Chapter 20

Castle and Beckett were first to Remy's, her raid on her own closets swiftly completed – without Castle's help, but with plenty of Castle's complaining that he wasn't allowed to help – and her evaluations booked for the earliest date possible. Beckett was still complaining that she couldn't take the evaluations until early September as they sat down, but Castle had stopped listening to the whining some time earlier and was speculating wildly, salaciously, and, most crucially for his continued existence, silently on the contents of her bag;,until everyone else turned up. Fortunately Lanie appeared before his speculations became spoken.

"Girl, where'd you get that tan? Usually you're whiter than a vampire."

"Lying on a sun lounger in the sun."

"Hope you don't have tan lines if that's what you've been doing." She essayed a tug at Beckett's t-shirt.

Beckett tapped Lanie's fingers firmly. "Paws off."

"Yeah, we know whose paws are the ones allowed on," Lanie smirked. "You got that look."

Beckett blushed furiously. Castle's ears turned pink, though since he had a very satisfied and smug smile that might merely have been the outside temperature.

"Shut up," she scowled.

"Anyway, when's your tan self coming back?"

Beckett scowled harder. "I can't even take evals till early September. So... mid-September?"

"Mid-September? How'd you get a vacation like that?"

"Got shot, Espo. Remember? Wanna swap?"

"I'm good, thanks." Esposito subsided, but Beckett didn't seem upset.

"Hey, Ryan." She surveyed him. "How can you still be wearing a sweater-vest in August?"

Ryan cringed. He did, now Beckett looked closely, appear to be very hot and uncomfortable. "Lost a bet," he admitted.

"Take it off," she ordered. "Espo, that was cruelty to dumb Ryans."

"Hey!" Ryan complained.

"How'd you know it was me?" Espo groused.

"Experience. I don't wanna know," she added, as Espo started on the tale. "Go get the beers in" –

"Are you allowed beer, girl?"

"Yes," Beckett said definitively. "You're not my doctor. Beer."

Lanie huffed insincerely, and failed to manage a disapproving gaze. Espo groused his way to the bar, and back again with beer. Castle tucked himself a little closer to Beckett, and then smirked and put his arm round her in a casually familiar fashion which produced no surprise at all from anyone. He pouted, disappointedly.

"We've been waiting for you to admit it for years. Not surprised."

"I'm surprised," Espo grinned. "I'm surprised these two dumbasses managed to get it together."

Everybody glared at him. "What? You were all thinking it." Under the laser effect of Beckett's glare, he shrivelled, and hid behind his beer bottle before he could commit suicide-by-Beckett.

Espo suitably quelled, conversation stayed light, bright, and covered a great deal of shop talk, in which Beckett participated enthusiastically. Around nine, she stretched carefully.

"Time to break up the party, guys."

Lanie looked at her. There had, Lanie thought, been a remarkable lack of any comment about Kate's father. The conversation had been quite carefully diverted from any discussion of the fact that Kate had started in their cabin, returned to New York, and then been whisked off to Castle's Hamptons mansion to live in luxury. Lanie considered her options, and opted for safety, saying nothing.

Unfortunately, Ryan was not as smart.

"How's your dad taking you shacking up with Castle? Hasn't he got his shotgun out yet?"

There was a horrible silence. Even without the recent events, that would not have been a tactful way to draw attention to the changed relationship.

Beckett had gone white. She opened her mouth, shut it again, delivered a searing expression aimed firmly at Ryan, and stalked out, alone.

"What the fuck did you say that for?" Lanie hissed, cutting off Castle's words. Castle, trapped by the placement of the other three, was frantically trying to get out of the bar and, short of throwing Ryan out of the way (which, from Castle's face, was an option), wasn't succeeding fast enough.

"What?" Ryan said blankly. "I didn't say anything."

"Get out of my way!" Castle snapped, and when they didn't move fast enough, simply shoved, without care that Lanie ended up sitting down and Ryan nearly hit the floor.

"Go get her, bro," Espo said to his departing back, entirely unheard, and then turned to add his two cents' worth to Lanie's vicious imprecations.

Castle barrelled out of the bar door and stood, desperately looking around for Beckett's dark head. Finally he spotted it, moving slowly in the direction of the subway: clearly, she was going home. That wasn't necessarily bad, since his car was parked there. That she hadn't waited for him, however, was pretty unequivocally dreadful. Except...if she was going to break down, she'd do it at home, and she'd know he'd have to come back there... so maybe it wasn't quite so bad after all. He speeded up, and reached her as she started down the steps into the subway.

"Kate?"

She slowed, but didn't stop. His arm caught around her, and she stepped into him. "Don't talk," she forced. "Don't say anything." In her voice he heard overwhelming strain. He obeyed, only letting go of her, however, to go through the turnstiles, and immediately re-catching her, all the way to her apartment.

Inside, he simply held her, still not saying a word, until she crumpled: not crying, but chilled and lax.

"Can we just go?" she whispered. "I want to go home."

"Yes."

Two hours later, in which Beckett had either slept or done such a good imitation that she might as well have been sleeping, they arrived at Castle's home.

"We're here."

Nothing arose but a sleepy noise. Waking wasn't on Beckett's schedule, it seemed. Castle pulled the car right up to the door, got out, went round to the passenger side, and undid the seatbelt. Then he considered the general logistics, the state of his spine, and the dead weight of a slumbering Beckett. He bent down, slipped his hands under her to lift her bridal style – and found that without at least some co-operation and starting from her being at a higher elevation than a low-slung Ferrari, he could either seriously damage his back or he could think of another plan. Regrettably, the only plan he could think of was to wake her, which he hadn't wanted to do.

"Wake up, Beckett."

"No."

"Wake up long enough to sleep in a bed, not a car."

"Urgh."

An eyelid lifted, didn't like it, and shut. Then it lifted again, the other followed, and Beckett's minimal consciousness emitted a groan.

"Are we home?"

"Yes. C'mon. You can go to sleep in a real bed. You'll be really uncomfy if you sleep in the car."

She staggered out of the car and into the house, and then, without pausing, towards the bedrooms. Castle followed in case she fell over, but didn't touch her. She disappeared into her own room, which wasn't surprising, and a few moments later Castle heard the noises of her crossing the corridor into his. Relieved, he made himself a drink and considered Ryan's total idiocy. He didn't get very far, mainly because every time he thought of it he also thought of how satisfying it would be to flay Ryan from the feet up and then salt the wounds. It was really quite lucky that he liked him, otherwise he'd get truly creative.

After a while, he went to bed himself, finding Beckett curled foetally into herself, pale on the pillows. He slipped an arm over her, pressed a kiss to her neck, and fell asleep around her.

Beckett woke, far too early for her liking, but unable to return to sleep. Castle was breathing softly on the other side of the bed, a small smile on his lips. She wasn't going to disturb him. She left to dress in her own room, and then slipped outside to the same spot as the previous night. She would cheerfully still shoot Ryan for reopening the wound she'd barely stitched together – her fingers unconsciously went to the scar – two nights ago.

Somewhere in the background, a bird was cheeping; shortly joined by another, which chirped. It was just like early morning at the cabin, though likely it was different birds, she thought idly. Her mind drifted while the sun rose, rays gleaming on the sea. In the clear light of the early morning, she let her mind wander where it would. Far too frequently, it wandered back to Ryan's careless words. How's your dad taking it? She hadn't a clue. She should have a clue. Ought to...

No.

No.

No!

She went through this. It was not her issue. It was her dad's. She couldn't help it. Him. He had to do it for himself. In a week... maybe he'd call or text, maybe he wouldn't. But she couldn't control it.

And she had Castle. If her father didn't come out of his whiskey-soaked rabbit hole... Castle had her back – and she'd have his, if it ever came to that.

She – oh. She'd said to Castle: you have to let me do it myself. You'll want to do everything for me. Just like she had wanted to fix her dad, the first time round, just like she was thinking she ought to now... Same thing. Well, not quite. But close enough. She'd asked Castle to be strong enough to let her be. Now she had to be strong enough to let her father fix himself, without her.

She stood, stretched carefully, and there in the early morning sunshine breathed in, out, in, out: calming down, thinking it through, gradually internalising the rightness of her choice.

And then she went and made herself coffee, quietly, still barely after six, and drank it, and did her physio exercises under the summer sunshine: a little stronger, arms a little higher, a few more reps; and went down to walk on the sandy beach and watch the waves wash in, out, in, out: as slow and steady as her breathing. She walked for a long time: there, and back again.

When she came back up the narrow path, Castle was sitting on the grass waiting for her, a slight concern on his face which dissolved as he saw her. She sat down beside him.

"He has to fix himself," she said quietly, and tucked herself into his side. "I can't – I won't. He'll be in touch when" – she didn't say if – "he's ready. Just like I was."

Castle hugged her, and didn't say a word. They sat together in the warming sun, silent, but at peace: her head on his shoulder, his arm around her, their hands linked, resting on his thigh.

"I just have to wait. I should... it must... how did you manage to wait for me? It's so hard not to get in touch. I want to... but I can't."

"You just... take it a day, or an hour, or a minute at a time. And when it's hard – harder – you remember why, and what you're waiting for, and... eyes on the prize." His arm squeezed a little tighter: she pressed a little closer. "You have to have a reason." He swallowed. "I did."

She turned in his clasp, and laid a delicate, fleeting kiss to his jaw. "And here I am, because..." – she swallowed in turn – "I won the prize."

"We both did," he murmured. "We both won, Kate." His free hand slid up to cup her face as he dipped to kiss her.

Some long while later, they parted lips, though arms remained around each other.

"It nearly killed me, you know."

"You seem pretty alive to me, for a nearly-dead man."

"Funny." He spent a moment proving that he was alive. "I mean not being able to contact you," he pointed out. "It... I knew I had to because you asked me to – it was the only thing you've ever asked me to do that really mattered but it was so hard. And that was only really a week I had to wait."

"But you did. You... you stood for me then, even if you didn't know, because you trusted me to get better. Be strong enough. You... you don't know how much that meant. How much I needed someone who thought I could be strong."

Her eyes were liquid. "I didn't know if I could be strong enough. You let me be. Made me be. When it mattered, you were standing for me."

"Just like you'd stand for me. Every time. That's... you make your stand, and we've found each other to stand with."

"Yes." She paused, and swallowed, gulped again. "I love you too," she whispered, and kissed him again. Another long silence fell, though close communication continued.

"Breakfast?" Castle said, eventually.

"Yeah."

"Pancakes?"

"Nothing to thank me for," Beckett said, and added mischievously, "yet."

Castle's eyes lit up. "Call it thanks in advance, and let's have blueberry pancakes." He stood, raised her with hands on her waist not by pulling her arms, couldn't resist the kiss and then stayed, forehead to hers, for that one further moment of contentment. His Beckett, her Castle, their togetherness.

Beckett proved adept at pancake mixing, if awkward, but Castle reserved the cooking to himself. She smiled and let him, watching him toss pancakes and catch them neatly. She couldn't have held the pan up for that long – for any length of time. Shortly there was a large stack of pancakes and a jug of maple syrup on the table, plates, cutlery, and coffee. The pancakes disappeared almost as quickly as Beckett's coffee.

"Let's spend the day by the pool," Beckett suggested.

"You just want to ogle my ruggedly handsome face and body," Castle teased.

"And you won't be leering down my bikini top?"

"Of course I will. That's the whole point of lazing by the pool." He put another pancake on her plate, cut it up, poured syrup over it, and then lifted a soused piece to her lips. Her tongue peeked out at him, and she ate it from his fork.

He wasn't going to do that again, this side of this evening. He wasn't going to stand up – on his feet, dammit – for a moment or two, either. Later, though, ah, later, he would concoct a dessert and feed it to her, and then... then they would see. She hadn't noticed, but he had, that her arms had raised a little higher: enough to curl around his shoulders, which was enough that she needn't stop to take care, should she wish to press go.

But for now, lazing in the sunshine and the pool sounded like an excellent way to spend a day.

Breakfast finished and cleared, Beckett disappeared to her own room, Castle to his, and both emerged clad in loose t-shirts and, in Castle's case, shorts. Beckett hadn't bothered. Her legs stretched endlessly from the t-shirt hem, lightly tanned from the time she'd been here.

"Shall I do your back?" he asked happily.

"Please."

They reached the pool and Beckett slipped her t-shirt off. Castle gleeped.

"That's not a bikini."

"It's a swimming costume, Captain Obvious."

"I know. You wore it in LA." And I dreamed about you exiting the pool dripping wet in that costume for months.

She smiled slyly. "You liked it. You really liked it."

"You... you deliberately trailed it in front of me?"

"No. I deliberately trailed it in front of that suspect. You were just a happy bonus." She bit her lip, nervously. "I came back out, but you'd just closed your door."

"You were with Josh."

"Yeah..." Her sly smile reappeared. "But I'm not now."

"No. You're with me."

"You're with me."

"We're with each other," Castle said firmly. "Now, didn't you say something about sun lotion and your back?" He leered cheerfully down at her, making it obvious that he admired the view.

"Yep." She swayed over to a sun lounger, dropped her Kindle and t-shirt on the table by it, and lay down, her hair messily knotted high on her head. Castle was just about to perch on the side to rub lotion in when she sat up again. "You first," she said.

"Okay, but why?"

"Because." Which was not an answer at all, but the sly smile had turned sensuous and if Beckett wanted to put her hands all over him Castle was very cool with that. As long as he could reciprocate, of course. "Sit on the end of the lounger and I'll do your back." He happily complied, stripping off his t-shirt. Beckett wiggled up close to him and removed the sun lotion from his hand. The action involved her leaning forward and pressing against his back, which was very nice, and then a kiss on his neck, which was also very nice, but unfairly not returnable from his current alignment. Nor was the kiss between his shoulder blades returnable. Fortunately, before he turned round and did some kissing of his own, she stopped, and he heard the squelch of the lotion and then the cold of it hitting his back. He squeaked.

"Baby," she said affectionately. "It's just cold. It won't hurt you." Castle muttered darkly and plotted revenge. His plotting was halted in favour of luxuriating when Beckett began to smooth the lotion over the planes of his back, shortly joined by contented noises. She might not be able to use massage force, but her hands were wonderful. The forced lightness of her touch danced along his skin, the delicate strokes teased down nerves he hadn't known could spark, and the warmth within him didn't come from the sun. He purred, positively purred, like a large and lazy lion, and enjoyed her hands gliding up and down his back. Gradually, they encroached on the top of his swim shorts, and then flickered a little way beneath. He tensed. The naughty fingertips teased.

"Careful," he said.

"You're ticklish?"

"No. But I am sensitive..."

Beckett snickered happily. "You're safe with me." Her fingers stopped short of anything too provocative, and smoothed back up over his spine. "There. All done. My turn."

Castle took a moment to finish spreading lotion on his front, arms and legs. "Now it's your turn," he noted. "Where shall I start?"

"I only need you to do my back."

"But you want me to do all of you. Just like I did the other day..." His voice trailed off in an enticing fashion.

"You didn't give me that option."

Castle merely smiled. "I didn't want you to over-exert yourself. No relapses required."

"Mm... I guess I could be persuaded, then," she hummed. "Give it your best shot." She lay face down on the lounger.

"I will," he leered, and squirted cold lotion down her back to make her wriggle and squeak indignantly. Her indignation died instantly as his hands met her skin. As he gently massaged the lotion into her back, she relaxed completely, puddling under his touch, any faint remaining stresses melting away. He wasn't deliberately erotic, but heat rose under his fingertips and slithered along her synapses.

"Arms," he said, and took the weight on one palm so that she wouldn't have to exert herself; "and now legs."

Applying lotion to her legs was more arousing. Castle's hands gliding up and down over her calves was one thing, but as he rose over her knees and paid strict attention to the delicate skin of her inner thighs, she emitted a small, encouraging sound and curved into the touch. Castle restrained himself from leaning forward and placing a kiss on her leg – but only just. He also refrained from any overtly sexual actions, such as slipping a finger below the edge of the swimsuit. It cost him a lot of thinking about cold climates and snarling polar bears with huge fangs and claws.

Even thinking of fearsome, snarling animals didn't help when it came to her front. That swimsuit was made for sin, not swimming, and it was perfectly obvious from her sneaky peeks and smiles that Beckett had noticed his reactions. Of course, he had also noticed hers. His fingers lingered at the edges of the fabric, his palms grazed her skin, his thumbs only just missed the peaks of her nipples.

By the time he'd finished, both of them were breathing a little harder; Beckett was biting her lower lip, and Castle was...suffused. A cooling dip seemed indicated. He fell into the pool with some relief.

Thank you to all readers and reviewers, guest and named. Very much appreciated.