Chapter 22

"Are you sure you want to come?" Beckett said, washing the coffee mugs in her apartment.

"Yes," Castle said firmly. "Anyway, I've been invited."

"You what? When?"

"Text. This morning." He showed her the message, to prove it.

"Okay..." Beckett sounded thoroughly dubious. "Why?"

"No idea."

"I don't want a fight."

"I wouldn't!" Castle said angrily.

"I didn't mean you."

"Oh." He subsided, and took cognisance of her drawn face and tired eyes. "I can look after myself," he reassured. "What your dad does isn't a reflection on you. I'll be right here with you." He hugged her. "We'd better go."

"I guess." But she didn't immediately move from her position, leaning on him for a moment.

The journey wasn't long, but with every yard both Castle and Beckett became more tense. Arrival was almost a relief: at least, there would be some form of resolution. Beckett tapped on the door, managing her usual brisk rap, pulling on a calm face. Castle stood a little behind her: not quite protective, certainly not indifferent or relaxed.

"Katie." Jim's face lit up to see her. "Rick." A note of constraint crept in. "Come in."

Fussing with cups and coffee masked everyone's discomfort for a few moments, but it didn't last for long enough. Eventually Jim broke the awkward silence.

"I..." he stopped, swallowed, and finally met Castle's eyes. "I owe you an apology, Rick. I was" – he hitched – "drunk, but I should never have said or thought what I did."

"It's okay," Castle replied, totally uncomfortable and hoping to shut the conversation down.

"No. It wasn't okay. You couldn't have stopped her, and none of it was ever your fault." Beckett winced. "It wasn't yours either. It was the gunman's fault. No-one else's."

Jim stared down at his hands. Castle had no idea what to say. Beckett had shrunk into herself: whatever Jim had just said, she'd heard it as attributing blame to her.

"Katie... Katie, look at me." She didn't, staring at her own hands just as her father had. "It wasn't you. It wasn't ever you."

"If I hadn't been shot and died. If I hadn't slipped... You were fine till that happened."

"You didn't shoot yourself, did you?" Jim snapped. "You're supposed to investigate crime. You never give up on the victims. It's why I'm so proud of what you do. I don't blame you. I blame the gunman for shooting you. The criminal. And me drinking – that's on me. Not you."

Katie sat there, motionless. Rick slipped an arm around her, and with one look dared Jim to comment. He didn't. The expression on Rick's face reminded him of that ghastly time in the hospital, somehow: the same determination that the world would bend to Rick's will and Katie would be okay.

"If you hadn't left, I wouldn't have stopped. If you had stayed, and tried to stop me – it would have been like the first time, all over again. I wouldn't have stopped. I'd have hidden it, and pretended, and lied. It was the right thing. You had to do it." He paused. "But I might not have believed it, if... if you hadn't left the watch."

Her shoulders tightened: it was clear she'd rather have been anywhere but there.

"You were right. I'm so sorry I drove you to it, Katie, but you had to."

"Had to run away."

"You had to leave me to it. That's not running away. That's exactly what you should have done."

Jim didn't understand why Katie was white and trying to pull away from Rick, who wasn't having it. "You didn't," Rick said, which made no sense at all. "We talked about this. Do I need to get O'Leary back to tell you?" Whoever that was. Anyway, Katie stopped making motions away from Rick, which was a relief, because Jim really didn't need the pair of them having a fight over his coffee table.

"You did the right thing, Katie. You know that. You put me back on track. I needed that."

Beckett really, really wanted to go. Now. The more her dad tried to tell her she'd done the right thing, the more she wondered if he really meant it. Finally he stood up, and she thought that it was finally over. She wanted out, where she could lean into Castle and then not think for quite some time. She stood up, too.

"Sit down," her father said. "I'll be back in a moment." He disappeared. Beckett looked miserably at Castle.

"You're wrong," Castle said flatly. "You don't do nothing but run away. Stop thinking like that."

"He doth protest too much," she riposted bitterly.

"Nope, he's trying to make you listen."

The noise of Jim's steps stopped the argument without either conceding any ground.

"Katie... would you... um... do you think you could take the watch back?"

Her jaw plummeted. She couldn't answer, couldn't form a single word or thought. She simply stared at him. Castle's arm tightened about her as the silence stretched on, and on.

"It's okay," Jim began.

"No." Jim paled, and crumpled. "I want it back. I want to wear it."

Jim extended the hand with the watch in, but it was Castle who took it and fastened it round Beckett's wrist. She regarded him strangely, but didn't comment. Yet again, Jim thought that he was missing some communication between them, but didn't ask.

"I think it's time we went," Beckett said, not long later.

"Okay," Jim agreed, a little disappointed.

"But... next week... maybe dinner?"

"Sure," he said, much happier. "Just name the day."

Arrangements were swiftly made. Castle didn't commit: feeling that Beckett and her dad might need time on their own. That seemed to be okay with everyone: dinner was obviously pretty casual and from what wasn't being said about it, would probably involve takeout. Must have been a Beckett family tradition.

On the journey back, Beckett simply leaned against him. She didn't take his hand or snuggle in: disconnected and unspeaking. Castle thought that she was shell-shocked, and wondered what she'd expected, that an initially uncomfortable meeting which had ended well, had left her so lost in her own head.

He steered her out of the taxi and up into her apartment – he'd thought about the loft when they came back that morning, but Beckett had rather tentatively asked that they go to her apartment, and so they had – where he cuddled her in against his shoulder and stroked her back, walking her to her couch and plopping them both down.

He kept stroking over Beckett's bent head, and eventually she straightened up.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." She looked at her wrist, and managed a tired smile. "Better to have it back."

"Mmm," Castle hummed agreeably.

"It's a promise." She touched it gently. "I didn't expect..." she trailed off, but Castle heard the rest clearly. That he'd give it back.

"He believes in you."

"Huh?"

"I told you this, and so did your dad. If you hadn't left the watch, he wouldn't have fixed himself. He had to do it, but you showed him why. He trusts you to do what's best in the circumstances." He hugged her, and finally she nestled in.

"Why did you take it from him?"

Castle didn't answer.

"Castle?"

Truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure why. Interfering between Becketts...was a dangerous game, as he'd already discovered – and that time he'd been asked to interfere by one of them.

"Erm..." he said intelligently.

"Not an answer."

He knew that. "Um..." which wasn't any better... "Um... I... um..." He stared around for inspiration, and finally landed on Beckett's face. "Because... your dad needs to know that we stand together. He can't ask me to do things without you knowing up front. He shouldn't ever have asked me to stop you for him, and without talking to you himself. So... um... me taking the watch and putting it on your wrist was sort of saying that without saying it but I don't know if your dad would get it because obviously you didn't so maybe it was too subtle..."

"I... don't see."

Castle, having blurted out a very confused set of emotions without clarifying thoughts, couldn't help. "Oh," he said. "Um... I'll stand with you. No-one else. Like... um... well, you made your stand when your dad started drinking again and I'm standing with you so that when you need someone I'm there."

"Uh?"

"Even you occasionally need to lean on someone." Suddenly he grinned at her. "As long as I get to lean on you too. Metaphorically speaking, of course. If I leaned on you with all my weight you'd fall over."

"Try upping your gym time, then," she snarked, but there was a sparkle in her eyes, oddly sheened, and then the liquid puddled and she turned away, only for Castle to pull her back.

"Come here," he coaxed. "Just come here."

"He doesn't hate me. I really thought he'd hate me because it was the same thing all over again."

"He doesn't. But even if he had, you've got me now, and we'd have worked it out."

There was a slightly soggy silence, and a sniff.

"Can we go home now?" she said.

"Home?"

"Back to the Hamptons. Just till next week."

"Sure. Right now, or tomorrow morning?"

"Now?"

"Okay, but we won't get there till nearly midnight."

" 'S fine. I just..." she looked down. "I need the peace. Manhattan's so loud..."

He was taken straight back to the hospital, when she'd said exactly that – and left without him days later. But she'd said we a moment ago, and that made all the difference in the world. He'd become part of her peace. His heart swelled and overflowed.

"I just wanna be somewhere that's us. No complications."

"Okay. We'll go home." He didn't mention her calling his house home, because he hoped that it would be the shape of things to come. He didn't mention that she simply wanted to be them – an us – either, because after all she'd said she loved him. Instead, he held all the tiny proofs and clues close to his heart, and took her hand as they left.

A couple of hours later (speed limits being for other people) they were back in the Hamptons. Surprisingly, at least to Castle, Beckett hadn't slept on the way, though she hadn't made conversation either. The sound of her thinking had been louder than the engine.

"We're back," he said unnecessarily, to break the silence.

"Yeah." She stepped out of the car, and then went straight through the house to overlook the beach, under the stars and the moonlight, where Castle caught up with her. By then, she was sitting on the dry grass, so he sat down next to her. She reached for his fingers, and set the linked digits on her knee, her thumb stroking over the back of his hand.

"If I had come here first," she said quietly, "maybe none of it would ever have happened. If I'd had the guts."

Castle stopped to think before he spoke. "If you had come here first, you might not have broken your arm – no steps to fall down – but your dad might have relapsed just the same. It was the shooter who set it all in motion."

"But if I'd been braver..."

"You were brave. Remember what you told me. You needed to fix yourself so that you weren't simply a clinging vine; to be strong enough. You were that strong weeks ago, when O'Leary came." He paused. "You were strong enough, brave enough, to leave your dad to fix himself." He let his words sink in, and she eased, swapping hands and curling her other arm around him, for the first time, above the level of his shoulders.

"But you were there. All the way. And... if you hadn't said you wouldn't call if I didn't talk... I wouldn't have realised. I'd just have kept on in the same old pattern." She stopped.

"I wanted to call you. I thought about calling you" –

"Just like I did about Dad" –

"Yes. But... I had to be strong enough not to. Otherwise... it really would be me propping you up and we both agreed right back in the hospital that that would never work. No clinging. Not you to me and not me to you."

"Done," she said, and kissed him to seal the vow.

"Done," he agreed.

"You need to know, though..." she began, after a pause, "that even when you weren't there you were. Knowing what you said... even before I called you from the cabin, you were all the reasons – you were the only reason – I needed to get fixed."

He couldn't help pulling her in, kissing her frantically, each holding the other as close as they held to life. To hear that he was her every reason, all her reasons... she loved him, she'd said so, but he couldn't doubt it now.

"You were everything," she said, and kissed him as passionately as he had her, pushing him to his back on the grass and falling over him. His arms met around her, hers curled around his neck, and for a long time there were no more words, only actions.

"We should go in," Castle said, eventually.

"I guess..." Beckett said from her position pillowed on his chest, head tucked under his chin, but she didn't sound convinced.

"More comfortable."

"Mmm, I'm comfy here."

"You might be, but there's a rock sticking into my shoulder and the ground is hard."

Beckett wiggled. "The ground's hard?" she queried. "Guess I must be on the ground, then."

Castle snickered. "Yeah." He sat up, to Beckett's disgruntled muttering, but kept her on his lap where he could cuddle her affectionately. "C'mon. Let's go in. It's really late, and our bed is a lot more comfortable than the grass."

"I like it out here," she said, and then her brain caught up to her ears. "Our bed?"

"Yep," Castle said confidently. "Ours. The one we're sharing."

He stood up, and pulled her up after him, no longer needing to take as much care as in earlier weeks, finishing with her draped against his front where she could conveniently be kissed again and then towed inside. He could see the emotions in her eyes, and he wanted her to be in their bed, where he could love her and she could love him. He didn't want the day to end.

Inside, in his bedroom, Castle drew Beckett back to him, stroking down her back, returning with the edge of her silky top in his hands, exposing the skin and then lifting the fabric easily over her head; opening her pants to push them from still-too-slim hips. She delicately opened his shirt, flicked it from his torso, unfastened belt and zipper and let his pants fall too, entangling with hers on the floor. She stretched up a little, and kissed him gently, teasingly, encouraging him – not that he needed any encouragement – to open for her, to run a hand into her hair, to hold her close and let her feel his arousal, to gaze down at her and in that gaze to let her see his love.

In her gaze, she knew he could see the same: absolute love and total trust. He was – had been for so much longer than she'd admitted – her Castle, her rock. She would be his rock, too. Her kiss turned possessive, demanding, staking her claim and marking her conquest; he responded in kind, swept her up and laid her down, joined her and kissed her again, sure, searching, hard and deep.

Finally, she could bring her hands up to his face without a care, grip his shoulders, play or tug or roll without hindrance or hesitation. His body was there for her to take and explore, and she did: running a long path down his flank to his hip and then finding the familiar shape and size of him, fitted to her hand, the soft velvety skin and the iron beneath it. Just the same, he also found her open to him, removed her bra: palming her breast and then setting his mouth to it: one side, then the other, laving and sucking and teasing, driving her up as she drove him.

Boxers and panties were discarded, fingers moved intimately through damp heat and sensitive nerves; over full weight and distended veins, and finally she pulled him over and down to her and brought him in: two made one, flesh on flesh, bodies and mouths joined.

And then there was nothing but the movement and the magnificence and then quiet.

Cleaned up, they slept, twined together, and woke, together, to the clean, fresh light of a new morning.

"We've got another two weeks," Castle said, over breakfast.

"I need to go back and have dinner with Dad, and requalify, and pass all the tests," Beckett pointed out.

Castle made a face. "It's nicer here."

"You want to shadow me, don't you?"

"Yeah... if the new boss lets me." He stopped. "The Mayor'll get me back in, if she doesn't."

"I need to requalify before I'm allowed back, so I need to get back to the city."

"I guess." His face lightened. "I'll be shadowing you all over again."

"It might be a bit different."

"Yeah." He grinned. "At the end of the day I'll get to leave with you. All over again, every day."

"At the end of each day, I'll get to tell you I love you. All over again."

Fin.

Thank you to everyone who's come along for the ride, and to reviewers guest and named. Very much appreciated.

I will be back with some short stories in due course.

If you haven't already, check out my original novel, Death in Focus, by SR Garrae.