Chapter 18

Beckett woke up nestled into Castle's broad form, which was both immensely comfortable and immensely disturbing. Comfortable was obvious. It took her a little longer to decide why on earth she was disturbed, and eventually she concluded that it was because she'd never been a snuggly type. Usually she shied away from snuggling in bed as if it were torture, but there she was snuggled into Castle like he was her comfort teddy bear from when she was tiny. She was, in fact, clinging to him. Beckett didn't cling.

Beckett didn't lean on anyone. She never had. No matter how tough the situation, no matter how much she hurt, no matter what. Beckett relied on herself, and nobody else.

Except O'Leary had said there was no shame in leaning on one's love; Castle had said – emphatically – let people help; it's being human.

There she was, snuggled. It seemed that her subconscious had made some decisions for her – probably the day she came here. Mostly, it had decided that Castle was the one she could rely on; lean on.

Her subconscious had had a damn good idea (for once). She stayed close, head on his chest, listening to a rhythmic heartbeat, her arm over him. Shortly, she drifted back into sleep, without having un-snuggled for a second.

When she woke up again, Castle was still there, watching her through hazy blue eyes.

"Staring is creepy," she teased, with no snark at all.

"Appreciation is flattering," he batted back. "Why shouldn't I appreciate you?" He gently rearranged her to be tucked in again – and then mischievously whipped the cover off. "There. Now I can appreciate the full beauty of the view."

Beckett started to grab the cover back and realised a fraction too late that it wasn't the best idea. "Ow," she emitted, and curled up again.

"Are you okay?" Castle flipped from teasing to concerned in an instant.

Beckett very cautiously unfurled and tested herself by extending her arms to the sides. "Yeah... I guess. I just went a little higher than I should've." She sat up, her sleep tee falling down one shoulder. "Good reason to stick to the physio schedule."

"Yeah, right. Like you're not doing more than it says," Castle said cynically.

Beckett blushed guiltily. "I want to be better. I don't get to go back to work till I can pass the physical tests. And then there's the psych review..."

"Uh?" Somehow the finer details of returning to work had passed Castle by.

"Physical and psychological review. They don't want you back if you can't do the whole of the job. Being" – she hitched – "shot can leave some pretty messy backlash."

"PTSD?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there," he promised. "If you need me..."

"So far, it's okay. I had a few moments up at the cabin, but nothing since." She smiled, open and honest. "No nightmares."

"Just...tell me, okay? If there are."

"Okay," she said simply, and the acceptance in her words sent his soul soaring.

All he said, however, was, "Breakfast?"

"Please."

Castle bounced off to prepare breakfast on another beautiful sunny morning, as happy as he could possibly be. She was letting him in.

"Let's go into town this morning," Castle suggested as they were finishing their coffee. "I have a craving for those cinnamon buns."

"Sweet tooth or what?" Beckett grinned.

"You ate half of mine the first time. This time you can have your own."

"Okay, then. Give me ten minutes."

Half an hour later they were parking in town. Beckett adjusted her sunglasses, and swung happily along the sidewalk to the Golden Pear cafe, where they bought enough cinnamon buns, raisin scones, and brownies to feed an army for a week. The necessities purchased, they perambulated around, window shopped, and generally amused themselves happily before returning to Castle's home for lunch, after which they disposed themselves by the pool and prepared for an afternoon much like the previous day.

Beckett was just settling into her book when her phone cheeped. Expecting it to be any of Lanie, O'Leary, Ryan or Espo, she automatically looked at it.

She drew in a strangled breath.

"What is it?" Castle said, pulling himself out of the pool in a hurry.

"Dad..." she said hopelessly. "I don't want to read it."

Castle rapidly dried himself off, wrapped the towel round his hips, and sat down on Beckett's lounger where he could put an arm around her and see the screen of her phone.

"Why not?"

"If it's like last time, it'll be pleading for me to bail him out," she said coldly. "And I won't."

"Want me to look?" Castle offered, after the silence had stretched out for some moments.

"No, I'll do it." She turned a little away from him, and tapped on the screen.

There was a stunned silence.

"What is it?"

Beckett handed him the phone to read.

"He must be going back to fix himself," she said. "I didn't think... I couldn't believe... and I just ran away because I thought it would all be like before and I should have trusted him..." She started to rise.

Castle tugged her back down. "Don't be dumb," he snapped, instantly angered by her descent into self-blame. "He's only fixing himself because you left. Just like the first time, huh? He didn't go to rehab then till you walked away."

She sniffled. "He shouldn't have to go to rehab at all."

"He didn't say he was. I guess he's going back to AA," Castle mused.

Beckett shuddered, and was tucked in more firmly.

"Either way, it's not your problem. You're staying here with me." He went for annoying. "I can't eat all that sweet stuff you made me buy on my own."

"I didn't make you buy it!"

"You did so. You stood at the counter and made little hungry noises until I succumbed to your desperation and bought things."

"You were drooling down the cabinet. I practically had to swim out of the cafe." Castle heard the snark with relief.

"No more than you were. I'm surprised I made it out without you tackling me for the baked goods."

"Carry on like that and I'll eat them all when you're not looking," she growled.

"There, that's better. Let's go get some of them, and then talk sensibly now you're not drowning in self-blame."

"Only in your drool," Beckett muttered. Castle ignored that quite happily as he ambled off, and shortly returned, more respectably clad in a t-shirt and shorts, with coffee and a selection of the pastries.

Somewhat to Castle's surprise, Beckett made a good effort at eating. He'd expected her to pick at something, leaving a pile of crumbs equivalent to the pastry on the plate; but instead she actually chewed and swallowed.

"See, you like it." He added a salacious waggle of his eyebrows and achieved a Beckett patent eye-roll in return. "I could do other things you like."

"Make more coffee?"

"I was thinking of something a little more...tactile – but just as hot," he smiled rakishly, slithered up next to her and simply kissed her. Kissing seemed a much better option than sensible conversation, which might yet be necessary but was, well, boring.

Kissing Beckett was not boring. Kissing Beckett was addictive.

He ran one hand up, into her hair, cradling her skull and re-angling her to be able to take full advantage of lush, already-opening lips and mouth, and wrapped the other hand around her waist, dropping to her hip, sneaking under her loose t-shirt to meet warm skin. She sighed gently and brought her arms around him, still limited in her range of movement, but her hands also found skin and the firm muscle of his back. He teased, explored, tantalised; careful – so careful – not to allow impulse to overrule him: he couldn't pull her in, press her against him, let them blaze and flare and then explode together. He had to be slow, be cautious, be gentle. Beckett emitting soft little noises and stroking through his mouth was not helping with any of that. She, in fact, was trying to go further, move faster, light them up.

He gave in, ceded control and surrendered to Beckett, trusting that she'd know her own limits. She responded instantly, deepening her kiss, passionate and demanding, insisting that he be hers, give her everything he could; staking her claim and searching for his agreement. Her hands stayed firmly below the level of his shoulders, but that left her an enormous number of options and right then she was taking advantage of several of them. Castle took advantage too, but was considerably constrained by the desire to avoid both her scars and Beckett having – er – got in first.

Just before matters really started getting out of hand – that would have been Castle's hands: Beckett had matters firmly in hand – she stopped, or at least slowed up enough that Castle wasn't right on the verge of forgetting every good intention he'd had and simply picking her up and taking her to bed. He compromised by kissing her a little more, and then she pulled away a fraction.

"We have to stop," she grumbled.

"Yeah... at least out here."

She looked questioningly at him.

"See how you feel later. These chairs aren't comfy." It was an evasion, and from the look on her face, she knew it, but she didn't comment, simply smiled a secretive, sly smile and nibbled on a convenient brownie. Castle was instantly suspicious of her intentions, and also a little aroused. He took out his suspicion on an innocent raisin scone.

"What am I going to do about Dad?"

"Why do you need to do anything, yet?" She halted, surprised. "You don't need to do anything until he proves he's fixed things. Just stay here, heal, eat brownies... sleep in the sunshine."

"But..."

"But what? It's up to him to come to you. It's up to you to get better and get back to normal."

Castle's matter-of-fact tone left Beckett silenced. She hadn't really thought that it could be that simple... just wait. Do nothing. She wasn't constitutionally good at doing nothing and waiting – which made her a shit-hot investigator, but was possibly unhelpful when it came to her father's... issues.

"I want to run," she said frustratedly. "Punch the bag. Do something that isn't just the physio or ambling around like a crippled snail."

"You could shoot things, if you can lift your arms high enough."

"What?"

"I go to the range in town. You could come. Shoot a few targets, work off your frustration..."

"Why didn't you tell me days ago?"

"You weren't in any state to hear it, and then O'Leary came, and now you're a bit better and I'm telling you. So what about it, Detective? We could add a little competition, if you like?"

"Competition?"

"Surely you remember I can shoot? Though you should have cuddled me too."

Beckett's eyes flashed. "Are you saying you can outshoot me?"

"If the cap fits..." Castle replied annoyingly.

"Bring it on."

"Sure. Now, or after dinner?"

Beckett held her arms out. They wobbled. "After dinner."

Castle knew he was being entirely unfair. Even at her best, Beckett wasn't much better than he was – he'd seen her practice, and it was a pretty close thing. But... she needed a distraction, and this was certainly a good distraction both for her irritation and his total frustration. The choice was a competition, or a cold shower, and cold showers were not Castle's favourite pursuit.

Dinner was eaten briskly and slightly earlier than usual, and they repaired to the range. Beckett waited while Castle made some arrangements, then collected a Glock and ear defenders, ready to begin.

"I haven't shot since May," she said. "And you obviously have, so I need to get my eye in first."

"Okay. Wouldn't want to take unfair advantage of you."

She went to a booth, and shortly Castle heard both shooting and considerable swearing, albeit quietly, in Beckett's clipped precinct tones.

"You okay?" he called.

"I will be."

He was just about to go and investigate that not entirely reassuring answer when Beckett continued.

"I am so out of practice," she growled. "This is crap. Espo would have my ass." She descended into an indistinguishable series of mutters and further growls, punctuated by more shots. After a full clip, the growls were a little less growly and the swearing had diminished somewhat.

"Okay," she said from behind him. Castle jumped. "I'm not betting on this outcome. But let's give it a go."

A pout appeared on Castle's lips. He'd wanted a little bet, returns not in cash but in kisses. Still, he could have kisses in any event. If Beckett had sneaked into his room the previous night, then surely she'd be happy to be invited that night? He'd really like to make it very clear that she should simply move into his room. He also had some thoughts on Beckett's thoroughly unsubtle signals as to what she wanted, mainly centred around providing it in a way that both of them could enjoy. He had a feeling that Beckett had been having some very similar thoughts.

"You're on," he said. "Ten shots each, best aggregate score wins?"

"Seems fair," she said. "Though you should have a handicap."

"Nuh-uh. We can do this again when you're back in practice."

It was Beckett's turn to pout. She turned away before Castle could stroke the protruded lip with a mischievous finger, and went back to the booth. Castle raised his gun and sighted, took his ten shots with care, and waited.

"I won," he said, when the scores were totted up. "Ninety six."

"Surprise, surprise," Beckett grumped. She hadn't bothered looking at the sheets.

"But only by three points."

"You what now? Three?"

"Yep, only three. You're closer than you think."

She smiled. "Three? That's well over requalification." A tension slipped away from her. "That's great. And I didn't spook or anything, so there won't be any problem with the psych eval either."

Astonishingly, she hugged him hard, unprompted. "That was a great idea, Castle. Thanks."

"We can come back a few times, if you like. We've got all summer."

Beckett stepped back and stared at him. "All summer?"

"Yeah..." Castle abruptly realised that he'd never actually told Beckett that he was inviting her for the whole of the summer, and clearly she'd never considered that he might have done. "Um... if you want to and can and if you don't have to go back to work yet and...um... I'd really like it if you stayed," he blurted.

"I only brought enough clothes for a week at most."

"There are shops, or we could go back down to the city for a day and collect them. And I do have a washing machine."

"I couldn't impose" –

"You aren't. I invited you. I want you to stay for as long as you want to stay."

Beckett was still staring at him. Castle played back the last sentences, and worked out that he'd sounded appallingly... what? Needy? Desperate? Hopeful?

"That sounded more like an instruction than an invitation."

Oh. He'd sounded appallingly dictatorial.

"Are you sure?"

Or not.

"Yes." He only just doesn't add of course I'm sure, just watch me propose.

"Oh." There was an instant's hesitation, and then undemonstrative, blocked-off Beckett hugged him again, and didn't let go. Naturally, he hugged her back. It took a moment to notice that her shoulders were shaking and her face was buried in his shirt.

"Hey, hey. None of that. I'll be thrown out. Or shot, if someone thinks it was my fault." Neither seemed to have an effect. She was sobbing very quietly, with some half-audible words mixed in. Sadly, they made no sense at all, because all he could really hear was snuffling.

"Home time," he said after a moment, and steered her out of the range, still tucked into the crook of his arm. She sniffed and complied.

"What was that about?" he asked as they drove home. Answer came there none. Sniffs came in profusion. They'd almost reached home when she managed words.

"Dad couldn't cope with me."

Castle exited the car before he answered that. He waited for her to get out, and then hauled her far too firmly against him. "I am not your father. I can cope with you here just fine. Stop insulting me," he added, with a grin. It entirely failed to lighten the mood.

"Sorry," Beckett mumbled, and tried to pull away. Castle didn't like that.

"And stop running away. I want you to stay. I can cope just fine," he repeated. "I've seen your scars, I saw you get shot and then I saw you flatline and die, Beckett, and nothing at all could ever be worse than that. If I can cope with that I can cope with your little foibles and failings." He paused. "Unless you don't want to stay? Though I have to say that you'd have to go some to convince me of that since you've been sneaking into my bed, sneakily kissing me, and actually hugging me in public, so I don't think you want to leave at all. You're just being silly and getting scared."

"Not silly."

"Are so being silly. Stop it."

Since pulling away wasn't happening for Beckett, which had been Castle's whole point, she went the other way and tried to bury her face in his collarbone.

"That's better. Stop worrying about your dad and start leaning on me for a bit. I'm very comforting to lean on. It's what – partners – do."

"Can I get a coffee?"

Castle recognised the deflection instantly, but at after nine p.m. he wasn't going to make a fight out of it. He'd rather Beckett was snuggled into him for the rest of the evening and night. Fighting, if required, could wait until tomorrow.

"Sure."

Coffee was, again, taken by the pool, stargazing. At least, Castle was stargazing, arm around Beckett. Beckett was staring into the dark water, and hadn't raised her eyes from it since she'd located her coffee mug.

"Dad fishes," she said inconsequentially, "at night, sometimes. He says the fish bite better then."

"Mmm?"

"I never believed him. Mom didn't either."

"Mmm?"

"I really hate fish. If he hadn't been going fishing, he wouldn't have been able to hide his drinking. I'd have noticed sooner."

"Likely that's why he went. He knew you'd find out, and he didn't want you to know."

"He shouldn't have needed to." Castle correctly heard drink at the end of that sentence.

"Nope. But he did. You can't help that."

"Can't control, can't cure."

"Didn't cause," Castle added very forcefully. "How many times have I heard you say that murder is on the murderer, not the victim?"

Beckett gasped. Possibly pointing out that the shooter had been intending to kill her hadn't been totally tactful. Still... on balance, necessary.

"This isn't on you. He isn't on you. Let him fix himself. You know you can't, you said you can't, so just stay here with me and forget about him for now." He took a few breaths, exhaling his irritation, and completely changed the subject.

"Um... are you done with your coffee?"

"Yeah." She drained the last drops.

"It's late. Let's take these in, and go to bed." He hesitated slightly, and went for it. "D'you want to sleep in my bed tonight?" There was a silence. "I mean, rather than sneaking in or me taking you there I thought you might like an invitation?" More silence. "Beckett?"

She suddenly pressed herself close. "Yes. Yes, I do."

Thank you to all readers and reviewers, guest and named.