A/N: If you've read any of my multi-chaps before, you won't be surprised to hear that I found one more chapter lurking before we get to the epilogue. :D
Oh, just go with it. I do.
Chapter 12: Family
Without any discussion or explanation beyond the mysterious connection they share, and maybe something akin to a gravitational pull, they end up back at the loft.
The journey from West Broadway to Broome Street is mostly conducted in silence, save for the traffic noise and the pedestrians they have to dodge around on the darkened, uneven sidewalks, still busy with people of all ages at this time of night.
Handholding comes to a natural end when Castle has to fish for his keys to unlock the building's front door. Kate hovers by his side, quiet as a ghost, yet vibrating with energy, until he ushers her inside ahead of him while he stands sentry, scanning the corner opposite for any unusual activity on the darkened construction lot.
His fingers lightly brush her back, exerting the barest, though undeniably attentive pressure, maintaining this caring touch until she is safely indoors and off the street. Since the shooting, Castle has taken great precautions with his own personal security and that of his family's. That they all remain targets until the sniper is caught and the plot behind the attempt on Kate's life revealed and dismantled is a thought that has hovered in and around the edges of his conscience on most days. Probably, he knows, because he had little else to occupy his mind these past months besides the jarring, painful memory of events at the cemetery and the exhausting and unsatisfactory casework that followed.
Missing Kate took up a huge chunk of his thinking time too, and he wonders now if he's ever even told her that – how much he missed her – though the sentiment was definitely implied through his anger of all things. His fear for her and his own family remained inextricably linked throughout her self-imposed exile, making tonight feel like a return to home sweet home after an extended trip away. Like the tumblers of the front door lock rotating and falling into place, he feels as if the riddle of his life, his future, is finally being cracked after a long period of confused and unforgiving stasis.
The doorman's station is unmanned, so they are able to cross the lobby and pass unobserved into the elevator. The car rises quickly and quietly, respecting the silent stillness of its two occupants.
"Is—" asks Kate, breaking the velvety hush with a question she seems unable to finish, if her frown is anything to go by.
"Mother's out for the evening. Alexis is probably in bed by now."
Kate smiles in relief and shakes her head. "How do you do that?" she asks quietly, as the elevator doors slide open on the top floor.
"Practice," says Castle without thinking, following Kate to the front door.
"Really? Not magic?" she teases, standing to one side to allow him to unlock the door.
"Assumed I'd be a little more rusty though," interjects Castle, stepping over Kate's teasing remark about his belief in matters ethereal, supernatural, unexplained and fantastical. "Given—"
Kate looks at the floor. "Yeah," she nods, acknowledging his meaning. "Well, seems it takes longer than three months apart for your mind-melding powers to fade."
"Or maybe we've just reconnected," he offers, with more kindness and optimism than she has come to expect, before ushering her ahead of him into the loft.
Now that they're here, their purpose is unclear. Walking the streets was one thing – no need to talk, the journey a sufficient objective in itself. But now, in the quiet, familiar, intimate space that is his family home, it's suddenly evident that they don't quite know what to do with themselves.
"Coffee?" asks Castle, leaning on the twin societal niceties of hospitality and their shared love of caffeine to break the awkward silence.
Kate is standing in the middle of the living room looking like a rudderless boat; she's drifting, eyeing up the sofa one second and then glancing at the kitchen counter the next, unclear where she should attempt to moor herself.
She opens her mouth to answer him, but before she can say anything there's movement on the upper landing.
"Dad?" Alexis voice echoes off the hard surfaces, bouncing down the glass and metal staircase to greet them.
"Make yourself at home," Castle tells Kate quietly. "This'll just take a moment."
He briefly touches her arm as he passes between the kitchen and the stairwell, leaving her to fend for herself while he attends to his daughter.
Kate watches as he climbs up to the second floor while Alexis looks down at her over the balustrade. The girl finally offers her a flicker of a smile and a half-mast wave just before her father reaches her. Her hair is slung over one shoulder in a thick braid that rests heavily against the floral jacket of her mauve pajamas making her look younger and much less influential than Kate knows her to be. Alexis turns away from staring at Kate to face her dad once he is right in front of her and can no longer be ignored.
Kate accepts Castle's offer of the freedom to roam in his home. Leaving father and daughter to their private conversation, she heads over to the kitchen. Her fingers lightly trail across the lid of the black gift box containing her freshly signed copy of Heat Rises as she passes the central island en route to the coffee machine. She can hear the low murmuring of voices in the hallway above while she busies herself checking the filter, adding freshly ground beans, filling the glass jug with water and topping off the reservoir, before finally switching the machine on to brew.
She's sitting on one of the kitchen stools awaiting the automatic beep that will signal that their coffee is ready when Castle comes back downstairs looking more exhausted than when he went up.
"Problem?" asks Kate, swiveling on the stool to watch him as he heads straight to the cabinet to lift down two mugs.
He shakes his head tiredly, his back turned to her, obscuring his face from view. "Nothing I can't fix."
The words are intended to dismiss the issue, to sound confident and final, but they are delivered with a heavy heart. Just one more problem to add to his teetering pile or so it sounds.
Kate bites her lip, fingers silently drumming the countertop while she works up the nerve to speak. "Castle, would you sit for a second?"
He glances over his shoulder at her, then back towards the stairs. "Not here," he says, his voice lower than normal. "Let me pour the coffee and I'll join you in the study. Why don't you go wait for me in there?" he suggests, softening the serious lines on his face with a tilt of his head and the trace of a smile.
Kate pauses, deciding whether or not to argue with him, and then she taps the lid of the gift box twice, making up her mind to put no more strain on her partner than he already seems to be under.
"Sure. See you in there." She stands and half turns away before turning back again. "Is it okay if I just—?" Kate gestures towards the guest bathroom.
"Yes, of course. Go ahead. In fact, use my en suite if you want. I meant it when I said make yourself at home, Kate. You don't have to ask."
Kate offers a wan smile in return and then she heads towards the study and the interlinking door to Castle's bedroom where she knows his en suite to be.
She doesn't linger in the quiet coolness of his bedroom. As a trained cop, of course she takes in many details of her surroundings – the rich, dark, masculine décor, muted colors, luxury fabrics and finishes covering every surface. But she does this automatically. She doesn't want to pry. Something about Alexis is troubling him and she can wager a pretty good guess as to what the problem is. Or rather who the problem is. So she moves straight for the bathroom, leaving Castle's privacy intact.
Her face looks a little flushed when she checks her reflection in the mirror, healthy, and her eyes sparkle more than they have in a long time. He's good for her. Honesty, plain speaking, asking for what you really want in life: it's becoming apparent that these things are good for her too, if the glow she's currently exhibiting is any reflection of her inner self. Of course she could simply pass it off as the red wine they had with dinner or the exertion and fresh air on their brisk walk back, but then she would be lying again – to herself and to Castle – and she's through with lying for good, if she can avoid it.
The study is still empty when she emerges from the bathroom, passing back through the unlit bedroom to get there. She trails her fingers over Castle's desk, touching the various collectible toy figures he has ranged around the polished surface like a protection detail. She deliberately avoids the temptation of his sleeping laptop; the faint line of white light telling her that the computer's power is still on. Like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her Prince Charming, she knows she could awaken the laptop's screen and reveal its contents with just the merest touch. A little bump, a nudge or an accidental jolt is all it would take. But she chooses to take a seat on the sofa below the window instead and wait for him, amusing herself with the nighttime view of SoHo as the minutes tick quietly by.
She can see into an apartment building across the street, a young woman sitting on a sofa by herself just like Kate, the cold, blue glow of a television screen illuminating her face to reveal a sad, distant expression that immediately reads like loneliness to the initiated; the initiated like Kate Beckett. She is about to examine the scene more carefully, hoping to find clues that will blew her lonely and alone theory apart, when she hears footfalls getting closer across the wooden floor.
Castle apologizes immediately upon entering the room. "Hey. Sorry that took so long." He comes over to the desk bearing a tray with two mugs of coffee and a plate of cookies.
Kate waves his apology away with a dismissive waft of her hand and a shake of her head. "Turnabout is fair play," she says sardonically, offering up a wry smile. "About time I waited for you."
"Right," murmurs Castle, giving her a tight, distracted smile in return, either missing her self-deprecating joke or dismissing it out of hand.
"So…what's going on with Alexis?" she bravely asks, watching him divert attention by fussing over the plate of cookies and the placement of the coffee mugs on a low table beside the sofa to steal a few more seconds thinking time.
"Huh?" he mumbles, glancing up and down with equal haste, his head behaving like a rowboat bobbing on a choppy pond.
"Would you sit? Please?" asks Kate, patting the sofa cushion next to her.
Castle looks at her, chews on his lip and then stares down at the tray again. "Sorry. I'm— Of course I'll sit. Cookie?"
"Rick," sighs Kate, leveling him with a determined stare.
"Look, we just went for dinner," he shrugs, actually shrugging off her concern as if it's nothing and she wouldn't understand anyway; as if she is some blind date he just met.
Kate nods, silently taking in his avoidance, detesting his underlying motivation, knowing that she is the root cause of his lack of desire to share this problem, to be open. So she decides to take a different tack.
"Did you mean what you said in the inscription?" she asks, taking a sip of hot coffee, realizing when the question is halfway out of her mouth that her knee is bouncing nervously and her fingers are clenched around the blue and white mug just a little too tightly while she awaits his answer.
"Of course," he replies immediately, without any evasion or prevarication this time.
"Then we didn't just go to dinner, Castle. So, talk to me."
But he isn't backing down, not even with this pointed reminder: you love me and I love you, so share.
"I said I'll fix it. Don't worry," he murmurs, burying his face in his own cup of coffee.
Kate can see the tension in the muscles of Castle's face, even as the steam from his mug rises up to curl around his features, blurring them softly. "Would you stop brushing me off? Please?" she asks, determined to be given the chance to help him with a problem for once, especially given her part in the creation of said problem.
Castle levels her with a look – disbelief and incredulity both. An after-image of humor is blended into the mix for good measure, though if you knew this man less profoundly than Kate Beckett, it would be easy to miss.
"You're seriously telling me not to brush you off?"
Kate knows exactly what he's getting at, but she chooses not to take the bait. She just nods.
"Kate, you are the master at brushing people off. So, if I am, maybe it's because I learned the technique from you."
"Fair point. But we've moved on. At least I hope we're in the process of moving on, and I'd like to help."
"You really want to help? With my daughter?"
"Of course. I've helped you in the past when you've needed advice. Why are you shutting me out this time?"
"You know why." His tone is grim and determined.
"Because her problem is with me."
Castle makes no gesture or facial expression to show that Kate is bang on the money, he just moves straight on to obstinate reassurance. "She'll come round in time."
"And what if she doesn't?"
Kate's fear is real. Alexis is old enough to know how her dad feels about her. She was there when he tried to save her from the sniper, and she was also there to witness every miserable day that Kate ignored her partner, leaving him to pine and wallow in misery for weeks on end, unable to write and God only knows what else. She doubts forgiveness will come swiftly from Castle's daughter, and she's not even sure how long it will take before she has done enough atoning to deserve it.
"Not an option."
Kate shakes her head at Castle's stubborn, head-in-the-sand response. "I don't want to come between you. The relationship you two have...it's special and it's rare. Believe me, I know."
"You won't. I'll make sure of that. Look, she has her own life. She has to see that I need to have mine too."
His support makes her feel stronger, but no less guilty.
"Sounds like your mind is made up. Sure you don't want me to talk to her…try to explain?"
Castle shakes his head. "I've invested a lot in this relationship over the years. Enough to know that what we could have is worth working for. Alexis will understand eventually."
Kate releases a long, slow breath, steadily blowing a lungful of air out between her lips. She feels a new contentment, an ease seep into her skin as she does so, relaxing her muscles and coursing through her bloodstream. The entire sensation is accentuated by a sudden, deep swelling of optimism.
"It's good to hear you say that."
"Doesn't mean I've forgotten what you did, Kate."
Castle adds this caveat immediately, lest she think he is a pushover or that what she did to him doesn't matter anymore. His eyes flash with determination and a warning maybe, but the snapped remark takes him far more effort than it would anyone else, given what she did to him. And she can see how much he hates to reprimand, how much he detests showing his disappointment in anyone, let alone in her.
She emits another sigh, this time less restful. "I know," she murmurs, her voice kept low in the stillness of the study, her tone contrite.
There is an awkward pause where the silence in the loft seems to rise up like a black beast, squeezing into the study to fill the small space between them on the sofa.
"I know I have to earn your trust and…and prove to you that I'm ready to deepen the relationship we already have."
She watches and she waits, her dark eyes focused on his face, pupils dilated like black holes, sparks of golden light ringing each iris as if the big bang occurred right there; the beginning of time all over again.
"I missed you so much, Kate. You have no idea," Castle confesses, dragging his eyes up from the floor to stare at her, his expression heartbreakingly open, slightly panicked, a picture of complete honesty and tragic self-defeat.
"I won't be this stupid again. I promise," she tells him, setting her mug aside to move closer to him on the sofa.
Castle drops his head to Kate's shoulder, allowing himself this moment of weakness, allowing her to see how badly hurt he still feels, despite everything. Kate wraps her arms around him, lifting her feet from the floor and tipping her knees onto his lap until she comes to rest, giving and receiving comfort in what might be the most balanced moment of their relationship yet.
It takes courage to make yourself vulnerable, to admit when you're wrong and say sorry, to ask for a second chance. Kate Beckett, brave though she may be in certain areas of her life, is only now finding the courage to risk her heart and ask for that second chance.
A few quiet moments pass in which the drift of time is marked out by the twin beat of their hearts. When Kate begins to feel Castle's breathing even and slow and his warm body list more heavily against hers, she knows that it is time for her to leave.
Pressing her lips to Castle's hair, she eases herself back until he begins to stir. "Rick, it's late," she whispers, so as not to startle him. "I should go."
Castle immediately comes to. He clears his throat and rubs his face before he stands, and though there is a flicker of resistance in his eyes, he makes no verbal protest. "See you at the precinct tomorrow?"
Kate stands too, the weight of her partner a glorious, sensual memory, the fragrant heat of his body still leaching through her clothing to warm her skin.
"I'd love that. Of course I'd love that. But what about Paula and your writing? Shouldn't you—"
Castle reaches out to caress Kate's cheek, letting his sleepy gaze trace the same path as his fingers. His gesture is completely natural, uncalculated and performed without permission, though neither of them seems to mind. In fact, if the warm bloom of color on Kate's cheeks is anything to go by, his touch is a more than welcome addition to their gentle, tentative, careful behavior towards one another this evening.
"My inspiration is back," he shrugs, handing her the gift box containing his novel. "Would be a shame not to capitalize on that…keep topping it up," he adds more brightly, arching his eyebrows for effect.
Kate grins, delighted, before shyly dipping her head. "Okay then. Precinct it is," she says, glancing up to beam at him, her excitement plain to see.
They walk to the door together. Castle helps Kate on with her leather jacket, watching jealously as she flicks her hair out from beneath the collar without his aid, soft curls bouncing and sliding back into place, their coppery sheen reflecting the light.
Her face is bright, her eyes lit by a hopeful radiance when she stretches up on tiptoe to place a soft, lingering kiss right by the side of his mouth.
Castle's hand flies up of its own accord to cover the site where her lips have just branded his skin. He presses four splayed fingers flat across the juncture between his lips and cheek, as if doing so will trap the sensation there for all eternity. It's not much as kisses go, but it comes from a place of new possibility, a place where their future waits for them: a gift wrapped up in ribbon, sent care of the universe, set aside on a high shelf until they were wise enough to recognize and appreciate its value.
"Until tomorrow?" asks Kate, already halfway out the door.
"You bet. Text when you get home."
She calls instead.
TBC...