Author's Note: Apologies for not being able to post last week but RL got in the way. I should be able to resume my usual posting schedule from now on though. And without further ado, Castle's reunion with Beckett.

The Best-Laid Plans

Chapter 33

Castle suppressed a yawn even as he felt his heart lift as he entered his building. Finally, he was almost home. He waved a tired hand of greeting at Jason, the doorman, and headed to the elevator. He had, to his own surprise, not to say shock, managed to get a few hours of sleep on the plane but he was still tired, just not quite as much of a zombie as he had expected to be. To be able to sleep when Alexis was sick and he was away from home at the time–it was something that he would never have imagined being able to do. But it was different now, everything was different now, with Beckett in his life.

Being able to trust Beckett, as he did, with Alexis. It was something he had never really had before, being able to trust someone else where Alexis was concerned, especially in a low-level crisis situation. On a day to day basis, he trusted his mother and always had but his mother had a much more laissez-faire approach to parenting than he did and at any rate, hadn't been around either. And well, he trusted Beckett more. He knew Beckett would do whatever was necessary for Alexis, with the same dedication she showed in her work, with everything she did. As indeed she had, taking time off from work in the middle of a case, going to pick up Alexis so promptly, calling Lanie. It had been… amazing, knowing he could rely on Beckett to do everything he would do for Alexis.

He could only shudder at the thought of what it would have been like if he'd received the call from Princeton about Alexis being sick and he hadn't been able to call Beckett. And he knew that if he and Beckett hadn't been together, hadn't grown so much closer in the last weeks, he wouldn't have felt comfortable calling Beckett. But without Beckett… He wouldn't have put any money on how much sanity he would have retained if he'd needed to leave Alexis sick and alone at Princeton until he could finally make it to Princeton to pick Alexis up himself.

Instead, knowing he could rely on Beckett had made the last day so much easier. Oh, he had still worried, that much was undeniable, but not excessively, had been able to sleep.

He would never have said that having Alexis was a burden–Alexis was and always had been the best thing that had ever happened to him–but he was starting to realize how much easier, how much better, it could be, having someone else he could trust where she was concerned, someone else to share the responsibility. Where Alexis was concerned, he had always known that ultimately, he was alone in the responsibility, the duty. Now, he didn't feel quite so alone.

He had always known, after Meredith had left (and even before, when she'd already proven herself to be a less-than-doting mother), that he would never want to have kids in the future unless it was with someone who would be a real parent, would never put another child of his through the hurt that Meredith's careless neglect inflicted on a regular basis. More, he wouldn't want to have more kids unless it was in the real, strong, committed relationship he had always wanted. And in more recent years, certainly after his divorce from Gina, he had almost resigned himself to never having more kids for that very reason.

Now, with Beckett, he hoped, could believe in the shadowy future where all his most precious dreams would come true. His carefully-hidden, mostly unacknowledged dreams not only of finally finding a real, lasting love, a lasting marriage, but of having more kids, of that stable, happy family life he had always wanted.

Beckett wasn't ready for that yet but someday… He hoped.

The elevator doors opened on his floor and he wheeled his suitcase out of the elevator, already fishing in his pocket for his keys with his free hand. It was still early, barely after 6 a.m. yet, so he was careful to be as quiet as he could in inserting his key into the lock and opening the door.

He almost crept inside, closing the door of his home behind him, and then released his grip on his suitcase, his eyes falling on the couch in the front room and freezing. Beckett was there, curled up under a throw blanket, sleeping. She wasn't in their bed as he'd been expecting but looked as if she'd simply dozed off on the couch, from where, he knew, it would be easier for her to hear any movement from upstairs, making it more likely she would know if Alexis needed anything. If he hadn't already been in love with her, he thought, he would have fallen in that moment. This was what he had always wanted, someone else who would love and care for Alexis as he would. His heart seemed to swell in his chest on a surge of love so powerful it almost hurt.

Even as he watched, she stirred, blinking her eyes open a little blearily, and she saw him. "Castle." She flew up off the couch and rushed into his arms. He closed his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of cherries with a hint of vanilla, feeling most of his tension drain from him. Now, finally, he was home. And oh god, how he'd missed her, missed this. He was long past feeling any sort of thrill at visiting new cities and meeting a whole bunch of fans and this time, the hotel rooms, no matter how luxurious, had all seemed incredibly bleak and lonely, the beds too cold without her. Being away from both Beckett and Alexis had felt like a form of refined torture. He could never be glad that Alexis wasn't feeling well but if it had to happen, he couldn't deny that he'd been entirely happy to have a valid reason to cut his tour short.

He held her to him, the length of her body pressed against his, her arms around him, and knew that she had missed him as much as he had missed her. It was in the way she had thrown herself at him, the way she was clutching him now, revealing more than she perhaps even realized of how glad she was to see him. And he recognized the emotion infusing her embrace because he felt the same way, as if a part of him that had been missing was finally back in place and he was whole again.

He drew back just enough to press a kiss to her forehead and then, when she lifted her face, kissed her lips too, allowing himself to sink into the kiss for just a few seconds because, god, it had been so long, so damn long since he'd been able to kiss her. But the thought of Alexis tugged at him and didn't allow the kiss to linger for long. "How is Alexis?"

"She was able to keep down the broth she had last night. She's slept through the night."

He nodded. Beckett had sent him a text last night telling him that she had given Alexis some broth to eat and would watch to see how Alexis's system reacted. "I'll go check on her."

He felt the nagging urge, the need, to see with his own eyes that his child was safe and hurried up the stairs, gently pushing open the door that had been ajar and stepping inside Alexis's room. He crept inside, bending over his daughter's still form, listened to the sound of her even breathing. And felt the little hollow ache in his chest of missing her that had settled there since the day he'd dropped Alexis off at Princeton fill and disappear. He lifted a hand to brush aside a lock of her hair but then hesitated and let his hand fall, not wanting to risk waking Alexis up. He would let her sleep for as long as she could. He only lingered, watching her sleep, treasured the sight the way a miser would that of his gold. Some lingering worry remained but he was home now and his baby girl was safe and whole. And for now, that was enough to allow him to relax more than he had been able to in the hours since he'd received the call from Princeton.

He stayed in Alexis's room for maybe five minutes or so, just watching her sleep, before he went back downstairs and joined Beckett on the couch.

"Alexis still sleeping?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, sliding his arm around her as she tucked herself against his side.

"Lanie said rest was the best thing for her."

"Right. We'll let her sleep." He wiped a hand down over his face, his bristly cheek and chin, and leaned his head against the back of the couch as he felt whatever adrenaline had been keeping him going for the last hours drain out of him. He might have managed a few hours of sleep on the plane but it wasn't nearly enough, especially because he hadn't been sleeping particularly well in the last week since leaving on his tour. He had decided, although he wasn't about to say as much to Beckett since he valued being whole and unmaimed, that Beckett had become his security blanket or something, so he could no longer sleep that soundly without her.

He felt her hand cup his cheek. "You look exhausted."

His lips quirked slightly. "Thank you. You're too kind."

For once, she didn't respond to his rather lame attempt at humor. "You could go to bed, try to get a couple more hours of sleep at least until Alexis wakes up."

He opened his eyes. "No, I'll manage. I got some sleep on the plane anyway. I'll sleep better tonight." He grimaced a little. "I think I'll just shower and shave. That will make me feel more human."

"Okay. I'll make some coffee while you shower."

He kissed her quickly. "My hero."

"Oh, and Castle?"

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering," she hesitated and he focused his eyes on her, since that wasn't really like her, "do you want to call Meredith, let her know that Alexis is sick?"

He stiffened, jerking upright.

"I just thought," she hurriedly went on before he could answer, "I know I always wanted my mom when I was sick, felt better when she was around. So I thought, wondered, if Alexis might feel the same way."

"You didn't ask Alexis this, did you?" He couldn't quite help the way his voice had sharpened a little.

"No," she hurriedly assured him. "I didn't want to bother her when she wasn't feeling well but it occurred to me and… I thought I'd ask."

He forced himself to relax and tightened his arm around her a little. He could understand Beckett's thinking and it was hardly her fault that it was a sensitive subject, one that never failed to upset him, all the more so after a day like the last one when worry had already rubbed his control raw. "No, we don't need to call Meredith." He paused and couldn't help the face he made, the hardness in his voice. "Anyway, I'm not sure how much she would really care. She'd probably come visit if Alexis were seriously sick, as in hospitalized–" he flinched a little at the thought of that ever happening, "but even then, I'd probably need to insist. Meredith isn't–she's not that kind of mom." He bit the words off and surged to his feet. "I need to shower."

He didn't look back at Beckett as he stalked into his bedroom, wondering tiredly if he would ever not get upset at the thought of Meredith and her absentee parenting. He doubted it. He should be used to it by now since it had really been going on for all 15 years of Alexis's life but no, he wasn't. And it bothered him all the more today, because he couldn't help but contrast it with what Beckett had done, how she had reacted to the news that Alexis was sick. The way Beckett had dropped everything and gone to take care of Alexis, without hesitating. It was the sort of devotion he had always wanted Alexis to have from her mother, the sort of devotion he had long since realized Meredith was absolutely incapable of showing or feeling.

It wasn't that Meredith didn't love Alexis; he knew she did, in her own way. It was just that Meredith was, in the end, too self-centered, loved herself most so what she felt for Alexis could only come a (distant) second to Meredith's own wants and needs. He supposed in that sense, Meredith had never grown up, not in any real sense. Becoming a mother had not changed her the way becoming a father had changed him. Oh, he would be the first to admit that he had also been quite as heedless in his own youth, his college days and immediately afterwards. It was having Alexis that had changed him, that instant bolt of absolute, unconditional, overwhelming love he had felt on seeing his baby girl for the first time, on holding his tiny baby girl and realizing to the full that this precious scrap of humanity was his, utterly helpless and dependent on him, his to protect and nurture and love. It was Alexis that had made him grow up (well, mostly). It was for Alexis he had realized he needed to plan ahead, think of the future–for Alexis that he had bought the loft, the secure family home he wanted to give his daughter, the sort of family home he had never had. For Alexis, that he had stopped simply spending his book advances and royalties and started to invest them for real, providing him an income that was no longer dependent on his books at all so that now, he knew quite well that he could continue to live and support Alexis in the style to which they had both grown accustomed even if he never wrote another word again.

It occurred to him with an odd sort of surprise that really, possibly the only big thing he had done in the last 15 years of Alexis's life that wasn't for her, was entirely for himself, was starting to work with Beckett. He wasn't stupid enough not to have realized that there was a very real risk involved with working with her, even if it hadn't been made very clear by that liability disclaimer he had needed to sign at the beginning (one which his lawyer still tended to give him sideways disgruntled glances over). But he had done it because of Beckett, because somehow, from the first, Beckett had exerted a sort of gravitational pull and he wasn't even talking about the tug of physical attraction, as powerful as that was. Well, he always had been rather inclined to recklessness, no matter how much having Alexis had tempered that tendency, and when he'd met Beckett, for the first time in years, something in him had told him he needed to get to know her better. Oh, he had couched it in terms of book research and it had been true enough but he could admit now that book research hadn't been all it was because, in all honesty, if it had been the books alone, just about Nikki Heat as a character, he could have been in and out of the precinct and Beckett's life in about a month, a few months at most. But he'd stayed. For her. He could not say, exactly, that he had been in love with her back then but the pull, the compulsion to stay in her life, had always been there and had grown only stronger as he'd gotten to know her better, when every facet of her character she revealed had him sliding slowly, inexorably, toward love.

And now, he really was lost, utterly, irrevocably–undyingly–in love with her. After all these years, all the women he had known, the women he had thought he'd loved–now, finally, he knew that Beckett was it for him, the love of his life. Even if–oh god–even if their relationship didn't work out the way he hoped, even believed, it would–worse, even if something happened to Beckett–he tried not to flinch at the mere thought–he was already sure of that.

He might–he would–go on living, for Alexis's sake, even his mother's sake–but he wouldn't fall in love again, would never really recover.

He grimaced and shook himself a little, turning off the water of the shower. His thoughts had wandered, become far too grim. He supposed part of it was just due to sheer tiredness, whatever mental defenses he had were worn down right now, after the last day of worry and fatigue. But he was home now and he had Alexis to focus on–and he was with Beckett.

Warmth settled in his chest at the thought, the memory of how Beckett had rushed into his arms when he'd arrived–something he could not have imagined the prickly, iron-willed Detective Beckett doing even a few months ago–but she had. And she was waiting for him in the kitchen at this very moment.

Galvanized by the thought, he finished the rest of his morning ablutions speedily, throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, before returning to the kitchen to the smell of coffee and more, of bacon and the sight of Beckett at the stove, making scrambled eggs. He was abruptly famished, although he hadn't even realized it until that moment.

"My hero," he declared again–and meant it, rounding the island to tug her into his arms and kiss her. She sank into the kiss for only a moment before she wiggled herself free.

"Burnt eggs aren't on the menu," she chided but her tone and her look were soft. "Coffee's all ready for you."

"So I see. Thanks," was all he said–but made no move towards picking up the mug full of coffee which, he knew, would have been prepared exactly as he liked it. He could only stare at her, a single thought abruptly darting into his mind and settling with the certainty of truth. She loved him. It should have been crazy, of all times to realize such a thing, become convinced of such a thing but there it was. It didn't take some big gesture–and to be honest, this was Beckett and big, dramatic gestures were not exactly her way–and maybe that was why it happened now, took such an otherwise little thing and he knew. The thought, the hope, had been building for a while, strengthened by the way Beckett had so immediately volunteered to pick Alexis up, as if doing otherwise was not even an option, by the way she had greeted him. But it was only then, with her having made his coffee just as he liked it, making breakfast too, that he knew she loved him too.

He didn't know what she saw on his expression but she gave him an odd look as she spooned the eggs onto a plate and turned off the stove before turning to face him. "Castle? What is it?"

I love you. The words rose in his mind, filled his throat, but he swallowed them back. No, not yet. He couldn't say the words quite yet. He didn't know if she was ready to hear them but aside from all else, this didn't feel like the time, not when Alexis was still sick, when he was so tired and had barely slept, and when she too had dark shadows under her eyes, testament to her own lack of sleep.

He cleared his throat a little. "I was just thinking, remembering, what I thought when I first met you."

She blinked, a faint frown forming between her brows at this apparent non sequitur. "You're thinking about that now?"

"I thought that you were a mystery I was never gonna solve," he told her. He felt his lips curve ever so slightly as he lifted a hand to touch her cheek. She tilted her head into the caress. And this was that same prickly, defensive Detective Beckett, now his Kate. "And even now, after spending all this time with you, I'm still amazed at the depths of your heart, your strength." How deeply she cared, the tenderness she was capable of, even if it was usually kept well-hidden beneath her usual Detective Beckett steel.

She blinked rapidly, her eyes abruptly almost too bright with the start of tears, as she lifted her own hand to cover his, pressing it against her cheek.

"Every day I spend with you, I'm still amazed. You keep finding ways to surprise me with all that you are, all that you do."

She made a soft sound that might have been the beginning of a strangled sob but then she managed a wobbly little curve of her lips. "Coffee means that much to you?"

Her riposte surprised a bark of a laugh from him. By now, he knew that she, too, used humor to deflect from emotions she couldn't put into words. She wasn't making light of what he'd said, if anything, it meant she was more touched by them. And he could do that for her too, allow her to deflect, as she needed. "That, and bacon," he returned.

"If it means that much, you'd better eat before it all gets cold," she managed.

And so he would. But first, he bent and kissed her, with all the tenderness he felt, loving the way she responded, immediately sank into him.

They settled on the stools at the island and he felt his chest warm even more at the way she leaned into him. It had surprised him to realize that Beckett was much more given to cuddling than he would ever have expected and he loved it but even so, this kind of closeness while eating wasn't really typical of her and he guessed it was yet more evidence that she really had missed him. Which suited him just fine since after the last week of being without her, he didn't think he wanted to let her out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time.

He was halfway through his eggs while Beckett was nibbling on a slice of bacon when a thought occurred to him. "Oh, do you need to be leaving for work soon?" He tried to keep the way his heart sank a little at the thought out of his tone but he knew how hard Beckett worked and couldn't imagine her willingly taking time off in the middle of a case. She had done so yesterday to pick up Alexis and he loved her for it but he knew that was as much as he could expect.

"No, I wasn't sure what time you'd be getting home today so I asked and Captain Montgomery agreed that I could take today off too."

Oh, he really really loved her. He didn't try to hide his smile. "So you can spend all day with us?"

"That was the plan," she told him lightly. "I was thinking, after Alexis wakes up since she should still take it easy today, we could have a movie marathon or something. Does Alexis have sick-day comfort watches?"

"A few," he confirmed. "That sounds perfect."

She gave him a small, soft smile. "My sick day comfort watch is usually Temptation Lane but I'm sure Alexis's are probably better than that."

He choked on air and stared. "You watch that trashy soap opera?" It was quite possibly the last thing he would ever have expected her to say. He tried–and failed–to imagine the sensible, reasonable, pragmatic Detective Beckett he knew watching and enjoying that show with its ridiculous characters and its storylines that struck even him as being absurdly unrealistic and excessive.

She shot him a narrow-eyed look, although without much heat, but he still winced a little. That had not been his most tactful moment. "Don't give me that look, Castle. I've seen your DVR, remember?"

Point taken. He promptly rearranged his expression into preternatural neutrality. "Fair point, sorry. I was just surprised," he temporized. "Temptation Lane doesn't really strike me as your kind of show."

Her expression softened, became wistful and a little melancholy as her gaze became absent, focused unseeing on the refrigerator. She was remembering something and he wasn't sure if she would share it but waited, hardly daring to breathe, and forced himself not to ask or push because he was learning.

It was a long minute and he'd almost started to think she wouldn't continue but then she began, her voice quiet, "I was nine and I had to get my tonsils taken out. I was miserable… and my mom took time off work and stayed with me and cuddled up in front of the TV on the couch, and we watched episodes of Temptation Lane. So every time I see it now, it makes me feel like home… and safe." She paused and then went on, "I'm not sure how it started but it was one of my mom's guilty pleasures, maybe just to laugh at how ridiculous it was but still managed to suck you in."

Oh. He could picture it, the very young Katie and Johanna Beckett, curled up together, and watching that terrible show and laughing. His heart hurt at the thought of what had happened to Johanna, the knowledge of what kind of mom Kate had lost. The kind of mom he had always wanted for Alexis. The kind of mom he knew Kate Beckett would be–even, he dared to think, the kind of mom Kate was already becoming to Alexis, with what she had done in the last days.

He wanted kids with Kate Beckett. It wasn't a surprise but the sudden surge of longing was, at least in its intensity.

"I can understand that," he responded quietly.

There was a long moment of silence and then after a while, she started talking in something approaching her usual tones, telling him more about the two cases she and the boys had closed while he'd been gone, the bare outlines of which he had already heard, but now she filled in more details about the investigation. By now, he wasn't surprised at the change in subject, knew the way one of her vulnerable moments often made her retreat, reverting to her Detective Beckett persona. And he was, as always, perfectly happy just to listen to her talk, the familiar tones of her voice, watch the play of expression across her face. But as he listened, his imagination was busy supplying images of a little girl looking like a miniature Kate or a little boy who resembled some of his own early childhood pictures but with Beckett's changeable hazel eyes.

They talked until he heard the sound of water running upstairs and lifted his head. "Alexis is awake," he volunteered unnecessarily since he knew she'd heard the same thing.

"Yeah," she agreed, sliding off her stool and deposited their dirty dishes into the sink before moving to the fridge. "Lanie said she probably should avoid any solid food for another day but I can heat up some more broth for her and later, I was going to make chicken noodle soup."

"Thanks, that sounds great." Now that he was home, he could, of course, take over feeding and generally taking care of Alexis himself but for the first time in Alexis's life, he didn't have to do so and the novelty of it, the knowledge that there was someone else to care for Alexis, was amazing.

It was just a few minutes before he heard the sound of Alexis's footsteps on the stairs and he looked up, sliding off the stool until Alexis appeared. She paused the moment she saw him. "Dad! You're home!" Her expression lit in a way that reminded him sharply of the little girl she had once been and then she was rushing down the stairs and throwing herself at him. And he closed his arms around her, his eyes falling shut, wishing he would never need to let her go again. He'd been missing her for weeks now but after that phone call from Princeton yesterday that had immediately sent his overactive imagination into a tailspin of panic as his mind had promptly begun conjuring up every nightmare he had ever had of anything happening to Alexis, his joy on being reunited with her now was so sharp it was almost painful.

But after a while, she drew back and he took the opportunity to study her more closely. "How are you feeling?" He lifted his hand, touched her forehead and then touched his fingertips lightly to her cheek. "You don't seem to have a fever but you're still a little pale," he noted.

His daughter gave him a small smile. "I'm feeling better, Dad, honestly." She glanced over at Kate and then back at him. "Kate made me some broth last night and I didn't feel that sick at all afterwards."

He wasn't entirely reassured since he knew all too well that Alexis tried not to worry him. But he had to admit she didn't look that ill to his admittedly-inexpert eyes. He would just have to keep an eye on her for the next day or two, which he would have done anyway. "Okay. Well, if you're at all hungry, Kate's about to heat up some more broth for you and then she suggested we have a sick-day movie marathon, watching whatever you feel like."

Alexis's smile brightened as she moved away to give Kate a quick half-hug before sitting down at the table. "I am a little hungry and a movie marathon sounds fun. Thanks, Kate."

"No need to thank me. I'm looking forward to the movie marathon myself. I haven't had one in years," Kate returned lightly.

"What do you feel like watching?" he asked, refilling his mug of coffee and then settling at the table with Alexis. "Star Wars?" he suggested.

Alexis wrinkled her nose a little as she thought. "Um, actually, I was thinking of 'The Great Mouse Detective.'"

He nodded approvingly. "Excellent choice. I have trained you well, young grasshopper." Yeah, she really was his daughter, wasn't she?

Alexis shot him a little smirk. "You say that now but after that, I want to watch 'The Sound of Music,' and you're not allowed to complain."

He affected a sigh. "You drive a hard bargain but you have a deal," he agreed with an exaggerated show of reluctance.

"I'm holding you to it," Alexis warned teasingly. "Kate, you're my witness. Dad's not allowed to complain or mock."

"I heard, Alexis," Kate agreed, approaching the table and placing a bowl of broth in front of Alexis. "I think between the two of us, we can make sure your dad behaves."

He huffed in mock offense but really, there was little he liked better than seeing his Kate and his daughter getting along so well, even if it did manifest itself in their ganging up on him.

"Do you want any tea or anything, Alexis?"

"Maybe later," Alexis responded. "Thanks. Come join us, Kate."

Kate did. "I don't think I've ever seen 'The Great Mouse Detective.' What is it?"

He and Alexis exchanged looks but Alexix then began to sip at her broth, leaving him to enlighten Beckett. "Oh, you're in for a treat! It's probably my favorite of Disney's animated movies, a sort-of adaptation of Sherlock Holmes in the form of a mouse named Basil and it is awesome," he enthused. "In some ways, I think it might be my favorite Sherlock Holmes adaptation ever, with all due respect to the late, great Jeremy Brett."

"It really is a lot of fun," Alexis chimed in. "And there's one song that's surprisingly catchy."

"Well, with that kind of endorsement, I'm really eager to watch it now," Kate declared.

He grinned at her, reaching out to grasp her hand on the table.

Alexis finished up her broth in due course and while Kate made a cup of tea for Alexis at her request, he moved to the TV, finding the DVD and getting it started before he settled on the couch. Alexis promptly curled up against his side and when Kate joined them, after placing a mug of tea on the coffee table in front of Alexis, she sat on his other side, leaning against him as he slid an arm around her.

And he decided that there really was nowhere else he would rather be than right here, sitting with the two people he loved most in the world.

As if sensing his thought, Kate lifted her head a little and turned to give him a small smile and he couldn't resist, leaned down to kiss her softly. But she turned her head after just a couple seconds and darted a look at Alexis, wordlessly reminding him of his daughter's presence. And yeah, his daughter was not feeling her best; he supposed he should refrain from any displays of affection towards Kate that he knew his daughter found discomfiting.

He met Kate's eyes with a rueful little grimace and she mouthed a single word, 'Tonight,' before she settled her head against his shoulder again.

Tonight. It was all the promise he needed.

He settled back on the couch to watch the movie and was, for the moment, perfectly happy.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to all readers and reviewers.