...Surprise?
Get him to the meeting room and get him cleaned up.
The task was simple, the logical next step; a clear-cut course of action to ground her, to give her focus.
She understood all that.
She just didn't know if she could let go.
She didn't know if she could do it, could will her fingers to release their grip on his jacket, force her feet to step back from his warmth; to lose the gentle pressure of his chest rising and falling against hers, her real and tangible proof that he was really here, whole and alive and okay.
Because if he was really okay… maybe she could be too.
So she didn't want to listen to sense, or duty; all she wanted was to press closer, to cling so tight that their lines would blur and she could just disappear into him, surround herself with him and let everything else— the grief, the fear, the pain— just fade away, erased by the gentle rhythm of his breathing and the steady hands at her back.
The need was intoxicating, almost overwhelming in its intensity, but she knew she had to fight it. Because right now, her needs were not the priority. Right now, Castle came first.
And for her, he always would.
Drawing in a deep breath, Beckett forced her gaze to focus, shifting from Lanie's swiftly disappearing form back to Castle's bloodstained arm, a sharp reminder of how easily a bullet could have found its target in his chest or head instead.
Swallowing back the fresh influx of anxiety, she focused all her force of will on her fingers, slowly releasing the tight hold they had on Castle's jacket, using her palms to gently ease herself back. After a moment, Castle's hold loosened— the action feeling as reluctant as her own— before he allowed her to step back, his eyes finding hers, waiting.
"Why don't you head into the meeting room?" she suggested softly, holding his gaze. "I'll grab you some water."
She saw something in his face then, the tiniest flicker behind his eyes, but he made no move to argue, simply swallowing slightly before giving her a small, slow nod. "Okay."
"Okay," she echoed, breaking his gaze and shifting past him before anything showed on her face. Without looking back, she crossed over to the break room, ignoring the growing tightness in her chest. She'd already placed their usual mugs on the counter before she realized what she was doing, her mind struggling to think clearly over the sudden thundering of her heart. Forcing herself to breathe slowly through her nose, she began to return the mugs to the cupboard, then changed her mind midway, taking them over to the sink instead.
Turning the faucet with weak fingers, Beckett closed her eyes, willing the lightheadedness to pass. She knew what this was; after all, she was no stranger to panic attacks. And she could handle it. She just… needed a minute.
Continuing the deep-breathing exercises that Burke had taught her, she opened her eyes, refusing to let the trembling in her fingers hinder her from filling both mugs. Placing them down on the countertop, she shut off the faucet, then leaned against the edge of the counter, pressing her cool, damp fingers to her forehead. Then, she gave herself a moment to simply breathe.
He's fine. I'm fine. Everything is going to be okay.
"Beckett?"
His voice was quiet; uncertainty edged with concern. Wiping the moisture from her skin, Beckett lifted her eyes to his, the tiniest hint of a smile curling at the corner of her mouth as she watched him hover in the doorway, like an unsure child trapped in the body of a grown man.
His gaze dropped to the mugs beside her, then lifted to meet hers once more, one side of his mouth lifting in an embarrassed smile.
"Would you think less of me if I said I was afraid to let you out of my sight?"
Beckett looked down, blinking away the sudden moisture behind her eyelids, then shook her head. Steeling herself, she lifted her eyes back to his, forcing a weak smile that mirrored his own.
"Trust me, the feeling is pretty mutual."
Holding his gaze for a moment longer, Beckett felt her heart rate finally begin to settle, her breathing already easier. Turning away for a second, she picked up their mugs, crossing the floor to hold his out to him.
"Just water," she murmured, seeing his questioning look.
This time his smile was easier, less anxious, as if their simple proximity was enough to reassure him. With a quiet word of thanks, he accepted the mug from her, his fingers warm and gentle as they lingered over hers. Their eyes met and held, the silence growing heavier until Beckett looked away, focusing on keeping the mug steady as she drank.
As her gaze shifted, she caught sight of several officers in the bullpen that were looking their way, curiosity evident in their expressions.
Turning back to Castle, she found his eyes still on her, his gaze unreadable. Swallowing slightly, she tilted her head just a fraction in question, her voice soft.
"Meeting room?"
Castle nodded, stepping back from the doorframe to allow her through, then fell in close beside her, his steps matching hers as they silently crossed the bullpen. She reached the shuttered meeting room door first, but paused and nodded him through, waiting until he had passed her before looking around, catching the eye of a junior officer.
"Porter," she beckoned, catching the fleeting hint of fear that flashed across the younger man's features before he adopted a neutral expression, his long legs carrying him swiftly across the room to stand at attention before her.
"Yes, Detective?"
Straightening her shoulders, she looked up to meet his eyes, her voice even. "Captain Gates has been informed?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he answered quickly, then added, "She was with Detectives Esposito and Ryan at the van site."
Beckett blinked at that; she hadn't known Gates had attended personally. But then again, by that point she wasn't really in a state to be aware of anything.
"When Captain Gates returns, she is going to want to speak to Castle," she told him smoothly. "Please tell her that I have requested she delays her questioning until he has received any and all of the medical treatment he needs."
To his credit, the young officer's eyes scarcely flickered. "I'll pass the message along, Detective."
Nodding in both thanks and dismissal, she drew a slow breath before slipping through the doorway, closing the door silently behind her.
When she turned, she found Castle standing just a few feet away, regarding her with a raised eyebrow.
"Did something happen between you and Gates?" He murmured, a glimmer of the old curious light returning to his eyes, though shaded somewhat by concern.
Beckett gave him a half-smile, then took a sip of her water. "Kinda."
"Sorry I missed it," he answered, giving her a small smile over the top of his mug before he looked away, glancing around the room as he drank. A second later she saw him pause, his eyes falling on the broken mess of the chair in the corner before looking back at her with a questioning expression.
To her surprise, she actually felt her cheeks heat, contrasting with the chill that still wrapped around her body. "Don't ask."
His eyebrows rose higher, intrigue almost smoothing the tension in his features, but he obeyed, saying nothing. They knew each other well enough to know that he would find out anything he wanted to know eventually, without ever needing to push.
Clearing her throat, Beckett stepped over to the table and put her mug down, attempting to refocus on their task as she turned towards him. "We should take a look at you, so Lanie will know what she's dealing with."
"Right," Castle answered after a moment, but he didn't move, simply watched her as she drew closer, until only a matter of inches separated them. Reaching out, she gently removed the mug from his grip and set it on the table beside them, her eyes never leaving his face, her gaze shifting over each cut and bruise that marred his skin. Slowly, tentatively, she lifted a hand, her fingers ghosting over his cheek and jaw, her breath hitching when his hand carefully covered hers, holding it to his face as he leaned into her touch, eyes closing as he breathed her in.
Her heart squeezed, her other hand coming up to cradle his face, drawing him down to her until their foreheads rested against one another, their breaths mingling. For several moments they simply breathed together, the long-fought tears rolling silently down her cheeks, the deep well of grief within her finally finding its release.
"Castle," she breathed, and his hands pressed a little closer against her back, like he was barely resisting the urge to pull her in, to trap her against his chest and keep her there forever.
And God, she wanted him to, wanted to just disappear into him and forget this day had ever happened.
"I'm here, Kate," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "We're both still here."
Swallowing hard, she smothered the sob that was trying to build in her throat, her breath escaping in a shaky exhale.
For another long moment, neither of them moved, until finally he drew back just a fraction, his head tilting slightly as his eyes sought hers.
In them, she could see everything he wasn't saying, a silent echo of the truth he'd desperately revealed to her in the cemetery all those months ago.
He let her see it— let her believe it— for few more unsteady heartbeats, before his gaze shifted to the wet tracks that lingered on her cheeks, his hand shifting from her shoulder to carefully wipe them away, his gentle caresses making a shiver spread across her skin.
Looking down, she drew a slow, steadying breath, then reluctantly let her hands lower from his face to grip the lapels of his jacket, ignoring the trembling in her fingers.
"Lanie's going to need to see your injuries," she told him, her voice sounding as raw as she felt. "This needs to come off."
She felt more than saw his nod, her body already yearning for his the moment he took a half-step back, giving her the space to help him ease the jacket off his shoulders. She kept her eyes fixed on her task as she carefully removed the garment, her touch as gentle as she could make it. Still, his slight wince as she drew off his left sleeve— and the stark crimson that stained the white shirtsleeve underneath— was enough to pierce her heart, making her ache for him in an entirely different way than just moments ago.
Laying the jacket on the table, she grasped him gently by the elbow and lightly steered him back towards the closest chair, her hands never leaving him as he eased down into it, his movements stiff, clearly pained.
Swallowing slightly, she reached for one wrist and then the other, swiftly unbuttoning his cuffs before silently moving on to his collar, willing her hands to be steady as she carefully freed one button after another, hyperaware of the warm skin she was revealing— and of the intense way his eyes remained fixed on her face, his hands resting on his parted knees, just barely brushing the sides of her thighs where she stood between them.
Once the last button was undone, she began to move back, but was halted by his hand curling around the back of her thigh, her eyes finally losing their battle and meeting his, again seeing the truth he no longer made any effort to hide. For several seconds he held her gaze, then simply leaned forward, letting his forehead come to rest just below her breastbone. After only a second of hesitation, her hands came up to slide into his hair, stroking and soothing as she held him to her. She felt him let out a heavy breath, his hands slowly shifting, fingers tangling in the fabric of her shirt over her hips as he sank even further into her, the tension in his body slowly easing.
She didn't know how long they stayed there like that, wrapped in each other, until finally a knock at the door forced them to draw apart, their eyes meeting briefly before she reluctantly stepped away, drawing in a steadying breath and wiping the last remnants of tears from her cheeks as she crossed over to the door.
When she pulled it open a second later, Lanie met her eyes with a look full of understanding and sympathy, her free hand reaching out to squeeze Beckett's lightly before moving past her into the room, her eyes now only for her patient.
"Alright, Castle. Let's get you fixed up."