Peace
A/N: Hi all! This is my first foray into Castle fic writing. Not going to lie, I am lowkey obsessed! I just started the show last month. I'm on season five, and I never want it to end, even though I know it's going to. :( I've kept clear of spoilers so far, but I've been itching to write this ever since I watched Target and Hunt. It's short, but I hope you enjoy! (Cross posted on and AO3.)
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After breakfast, Castle told his mother first. She deserved to know - about his father's profession, about the plot to kidnap Alexis, how the man had kept up with them all these years - all of it. She'd been as stony-faced as Castle had ever seen her. Not blinking, not swallowing, not reacting in the way he knew his mother could. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen her so devoid of emotion before.
While he was gone, Alexis had filled Beckett in on what she'd missed, out in the living room. She talked until her voice was hoarse, until there was nothing left to say other than how glad she was to be home. Beckett reached out and took her hand, squeezing it, reminding herself (and Alexis) that it truly was all over. They were both safe now.
An hour passed, sitting on the edge of his mother's bed. And when she was finally up to speed on the life she'd missed out on, he finally saw something crack in her face. A frown. Eyes red-rimmed but still, Martha had eventually quietly asked Castle to leave her be. She needed to process, she'd said. So he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Kate was in the kitchen, hovering over the stove. Alexis was nowhere in sight. "Where's Alexis?" he croaked, causing Beckett to turn around and flash him a warm, but hesitant smile over her shoulder.
"Upstairs, in her room. She said she was tired." Beckett resumed her previous task, stirring something that smelled delicious on the stove.
Castle moved around the dining room furniture, craning his neck to see what she was making. Once he got close enough to put a warm hand on her hip, he saw she was cooking spaghetti sauce in a large pot.
"What's that?" he inquired. They'd only just had breakfast an hour ago.
"What's it look like?" she teased, and he could almost hear the smile on her lips. "It's my special marinara sauce. It takes a few hours to make, so I figured I'd get it started."
"A few hours?"
Beckett looked up at him where he stood behind her. "Yeah. You simmer it. It helps develop the spices or something. I don't know. My dad used to make it for me."
Castle moved around her, leaning his back against the counter top. "Oh yeah?"
Beckett smiled, her face tipped down to the stove. "Yeah. He wasn't much of a cook, but I guess this is something his mother made him, growing up."
"It smells really, really good," he commented dreamily, even going so far as to take a deep inhale through his nose. The blend of onion and basil, of sweet, tangy tomatoes and sharp garlic - it was better than what he could have done. How did he keep forgetting she was such a great cook?
Kate put the lid on the pot and turned the temperature down to low. "Whenever something bad happened, or when I needed cheering up, my dad would make me this," she whispered, and reached out to touch Castle's upper arm. She traced her hand down to his elbow, his forearm, and then intertwined her fingers through his. She'd been dying to touch him for days, and though this didn't feel remotely enough, it was a start.
Castle's lips pressed together in a thin line. They wobbled, and he blinked several times. It was a look she'd seen a lot the last few days. He was trying to hold it together. He was doing everything in his power to keep from fracturing.
Beckett's grip on his hand tightened. "Come with me," she murmured, and pulled him toward his bedroom. He lumbered behind her, hand tightly gripping onto hers. Once he was inside, she quietly shut the door and locked it.
Her arms snaked around his neck so quickly, a huff of breath was knocked from Castle's chest. It was almost enough to bring Beckett herself to tears. It had been physically painful for her to be unable to hold him, and now she could. No one could see. They could finally, for the first time, be themselves.
A stiff sob propelled itself out of Beckett's chest as she squeezed Castle into the tightest hug she could manage. She was up on her tiptoes, chin resting where his neck met his shoulder. His arms were around her back after only a brief delay, and she could feel his entire body melting beneath her.
"God, I was so worried," Kate murmured, and begged herself not to cry right now. He needed this, not her. If she cried, he'd spend the next hour trying to console her. That wasn't why they were back here.
"I'm sorry," he choked, and then the tidal wave came, just as she knew it would. His strong arms crushed her to him, and she could feel his body collapse in on itself with a loud, strangled moan.
The dam broke.
She stroked his hair, scratched her nails lightly across his scalp. "I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here." She wasn't one for pet names, or even nicknames for that matter, but the word slid easily off her tongue.
She wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say or not, because somehow Castle's grip grew even tighter, and she could feel his hot tears on her shirt from the way he angled his head into her shoulder. He was full-blown sobbing now, and it was shattering her heart into a million tiny pieces.
She never wanted to hear these sounds again. Of Castle, unable to suck down air. Of Castle, moaning so sadly against her. Of the keening wails that he was trying so hard to tamp down on.
She wanted him to let go. She wanted him to let it out. He'd kept this feeling inside for so long - and despite the happy ending, grief tends to creep up in mysterious ways. She didn't want him to hold this inside himself any longer.
She pulled back long enough to grip the sides of his face between two strong hands. (Because she needed to be strong for him right now. She couldn't let his anguish tear her apart, too.) She looked into his eyes, which were filled to the brim with misery.
"I'm here. It's okay. Everyone's okay," she whispered, and pressed a wet kiss to Castle's lips. It seemed to ground him, and he hiccuped before gripping her shoulders with all of his strength.
"I can't –" he shuddered, his whole body trembling, "Stop."
"I know, Rick, I know." Beckett pulled away, gently extricating herself from Castle's grasp. She urged him to the bed, pushing him down until he was seated. Then, she lifted his legs and laid him on his side. She carefully pulled off his shoes, and grabbed a spare blanket from the divan in the corner of the room. She draped it over him, as he shook and tried to gasp down breath.
When she stood back up, his hand reached out to grip her forearm. His face was red and blotchy, contorted in panic. "Don't go," he hiccuped, and it broke Kate in half. A few tears leaked from her eyes, against her will.
"I promise you, Castle. I am not going anywhere." She kicked off her own shoes and crawled into bed behind him. He breathed out a long sigh, but still he couldn't stop crying.
Beckett pressed herself into Castle's back. She tucked her knees into the crevices of his, and untucked his shirt from his pants. She slid her hand inside the front of his shirt, knowing the skin to skin contact would soothe him. Clutching him close, pressing against him in every possible way, she nuzzled her face against the back of his neck.
"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," she repeated again. It was what he needed to hear, because soon, his breathing began to even out. The tears were still coming, but the shaking eventually subsided. As Kate stroked the top of Castle's head with one hand and his chest with the other, she could feel his heart rate slow, and his hiccups became less and less pronounced.
She wasn't sure how long they laid there for. She couldn't see the clock from this angle, and she wasn't yet ready to move. He wasn't yet ready for her to move. The aftershocks of his trauma were still leaching from his body, and she'd be damned if she showed any weakness in the face of it.
It wasn't until he was completely still, and completely quiet, when she was certain by the limpness in his body that he was asleep, that she whispered against his shoulder. "I love you, Rick. I have for a long time. Please, please don't do that to me ever again."
Castle said nothing. And she was glad for it. Those weren't words she was ready for him to hear yet. Someday soon, but not yet.
Beckett waited twenty more minutes before getting up to check on the sauce. She paused in the doorway, if only to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. His face was still red, but he finally looked serene. He needed this respite. More than anyone she knew, he deserved peace.
