He was staring.
He was staring at Kate and he knew he should stop, knew he should look away– except he couldn't quite seem to figure out how, his mind feeling dazed in a way that had nothing to do with the painkillers Lanie given him and everything to do with the fact that he was actually here.
He was alive. He'd really done it, had really pulled off his incredibly foolhardy escape plan and made it back home to the 12th, back to the people he loved, the people who loved him as one of their own.
Back to her.
So yeah, he was staring.
Kate, thankfully, didn't seem to mind; or really, even to notice. Though she was sitting close by him– her chair angled so they were half-facing each other, her elbows on her knees and her hands wrapped tightly around one of his– her eyes stayed fixed on the bloody gash on his arm, her body tensing every time the needle pierced his skin.
As if his wounds, and his pain, were hers too.
Lanie seemed to understand it as well, her voice low and soothing as she talked through what she was doing, her reassurances clearly aimed at more than just him.
Which made yet another thing he would always be grateful to her for; between this and what she'd done for him after Kate's shooting, no thank-you gift would ever feel like enough.
Luckily, though, she'd been gracious enough to accept his attempts thus far.
"Okay, Castle, we're almost there," she said softly, the words followed by the now-familiar pinch of the forceps. "This is the last stitch."
His thanks were cut short by a new voice, its tone completely even and polite, yet he saw Kate flinch all the same.
"Good afternoon, Mr Castle."
Tearing his eyes from Kate's face, Castle looked up at the woman in the doorway, trying to keep the apprehension out of his voice. "Captain Gates."
"Captain," the other two echoed, and he didn't miss the hint of something– challenge? warning?– in Kate's tone as she said it. Glancing back at her, he saw the tension in her jaw, felt the subconscious tightening of her fingers around his.
Whatever it was that had happened between her and Gates today, it had been big.
He was still caught up in that realization– or, more accurately, in her– when he heard Gates speak again, not a hint of discord or reprimand reflected in her words.
"I'm glad to see you all together once more."
Glancing back at her in surprise, he watched as she took a moment to simply study the three of them, her usually stern expression now speculative, almost thoughtful. Then, without another word, she turned and took a step out of the room, her voice firm as she summoned one of the officers scattered around the bullpen. Castle couldn't hear what their brief conversation involved, and he could tell from the way Kate's eyes narrowed that she couldn't either.
Nor did Gates deign to elaborate when she returned to the room a moment later; instead, she simply came to stand in front of him, looking down on him with arms folded, as cool and unyielding as the iron she was named for.
If there was anyone who knew a thing or two about power and intimidation, it was Captain Gates– but with Kate on one side and Lanie on the other, he felt pretty invincible right about now.
He wouldn't have minded having a shirt on, though.
Looking at him over the rim of her glasses, Gates gave him an appraising look. "Mr Castle. I'm eager to hear about your experiences today."
Feeling Kate stiffen and start to turn, a protest clearly forming on her tongue, Castle simply gripped her hand a little tighter, and she immediately stilled, her eyes finally lifting, locking onto his face.
Keeping his eyes on Gates, he straightened his spine, his voice brisk.
"Well, in short: I got kidnapped and thrown into a van, then soon after got thrown back out of said van and shot, then saw the van get lit on fire with its unconscious getaway driver still in it, then got taken to a warehouse to await whomever it was that wanted to kill me, then managed to escape that funhouse of certain death and make my way back here. That's about it, but if you're wanting the full novel, it's going to have to wait until another time, because right now I don't have the energy for more than a synopsis."
Gates' lips pursed at that, the furrows in her brow deepening, and for a fleeting moment he regretted the slight edge to his tone. He and Gates weren't exactly chummy, but she was still part of the 12th, part of his team, and that meant something.
Before he could make up his mind about apologizing, though, she spoke again.
"How did you escape?"
Meeting her gaze squarely, he answered in a more reserved tone, feeling both Kate and Lanie listening intently. "They threw me in a room in the warehouse, trussed up with zipties. I tricked the guy watching me into going to get his superior, then broke out of the zipties the way I was taught"– Kate squeezed his hand slightly, both approval and encouragement– "then wriggled out a window, jumped a fence and ran like hell, stumbled onto the nearest subway and here I am."
Gates tilted her head just a fraction, eyes narrowing slightly like she was trying to weigh him up– or, more likely, simply trying to decide the fastest way to get him the hell out of her precinct.
Deliberately making his voice light, he said, "I hope you don't plan on charging me for fare evasion, but there were no cops around to ask for a ride, and thanks to my kidnappers I was a little short of a wallet or phone at the time."
She ignored the joke. "How did you know you'd be able to escape once the man left the room?"
"I didn't," he admitted, keeping his focus on Gates so he wouldn't have to see the pain in Kate's eyes at his next words. "But I saw a chance, and since they'd made it pretty clear what was going to happen to me once their employer arrived, I figured it was a chance worth taking."
Voice quiet, he added, "And I figured that even if it did get me killed, at least it would be on my own terms, not theirs."
He couldn't miss the way Kate's head lowered at that, her face suddenly hidden by her hair, her hands holding his even more tightly.
Gates, however, simply nodded, as if he'd said nothing particularly notable or surprising.
"Officers apprehended two men trying to flee the address you provided," she said, and Kate's head yanked up, her body jerking as if half-caught by the instinct to shoot to her feet. Without giving any indication that she'd even noticed, Gates went on, "Detectives Ryan and Esposito are bringing them into the station now. Do you believe you would be able to identify them?"
"Yeah," he said grimly. "Not likely to forget them."
"Good," Gates replied, just as a knock sounded at the door, the officer from earlier reappearing with a folded bundle of navy cloth in one hand and a large plastic evidence bag in the other.
"Thank you, Officer Leaman," Gates said, holding out her hand for the garment he held. When he handed it over, she instructed, "Please bag Mr Castle's shirt and jacket and take them down to CSU for processing."
As the officer complied, then made a silent exit, Gates turned back to face him, holding out the bundle with a wry expression. "After your ordeal today, I suppose this is the least I could do."
Recognizing the NYPD sweatshirt she held, Castle's brows rose sharply, making the cut in his eyebrow throb. Reaching for it with his free hand, he cleared his throat a little. "Thank you, Captain."
Her nod was so slight he almost missed it, but then the moment passed and she quickly changed the topic, as if uncomfortable with her small display of kindness. "You're welcome to stay in here for as long as you need. I'm sure Detectives Ryan and Esposito won't hesitate to come find you once the suspects are here and ready for identification."
Turning her back on the three of them, she crossed back to the doorway, then halted and looked back, her voice serious. "Mr Castle, after today's events I'm sure you can understand why it is so important to have only trained professionals in my department."
Well, so much for their moment of camaraderie; here was the curb-kicking he'd been fearing, panic once more spiking in his gut. "Captain, wait–"
"Which means that we will have to arrange further training for you," she interrupted, and he would have sworn he saw a brief glint of amusement in her eyes at the look of shock on his face. "Both of you, see me in my office first thing tomorrow morning to discuss an appropriate program."
"Ye– yes, Sir," he managed to stutter out, but she was already gone, leaving them all staring at the empty doorway.
Looking back to Kate, he struggled for words. "Did she just–?"
She looked equally stunned, her voice an uneven whisper. "I don't know."
"Well," Lanie said, sitting back and pulling off her gloves. "That was an unexpected twist. Castle, you're all done."
"What?" he said, still caught up in Kate, in the trembling of her body, in the sheen of tears she hadn't quite managed to blink away. Forcing his gaze to the white dressing now neatly covering the wound on his arm, he blinked, surprised. "Oh. Thank you, Lanie. This really means a lot."
Gathering together her things, she caught his eye, her gaze sympathetic. She knew exactly how much it meant, because she'd been right there to see just how far he'd fallen after that day in the cemetery, and just how much it had taken for him to claw his way back up. He still wasn't quite there, but he was close, and he'd never have even gotten half that far without her.
"You're welcome, Castle," she said gently, her hand resting lightly on his for a moment. "Anything for family, right?"
"Right," he murmured with a tiny, grateful smile, his hand turning over to curve around hers, giving it a small squeeze. She squeezed back, then cleared her throat and stood, slinging her kit bag over her shoulder.
"I'm going to go put all this away. I'll see you guys soon."
"Lanie," Kate said suddenly, halting her by the door. "Thank you."
Lanie gave her a nod, her eyes a little shiny, then slipped through the doorway, leaving them alone.
He heard Kate let out a heavy breath, her thumbs stroking over his skin for a moment before she reluctantly straightened, one hand releasing his as she stood. Reaching for the sweatshirt where it lay over his other knee, she tucked it under her arm, then tugged at his hand.
"C'mon," she said softly, her eyes finding his. "Let's get you suited up."
Swallowing, he slowly rose to his feet and looked down at her, abruptly all too aware of how close they were, of his bare chest and the warmth of her hand around his, of the look in her eyes as they flicked to his lips and back again.
For a moment, neither of them seemed to breathe, and he could have sworn they both swayed just a fraction closer– and then she blinked and stepped back, her fingers slipping from his as she busied herself with unzipping the sweatshirt. Eyes no longer quite meeting his, she held it up for him, and he carefully eased his arms into the sleeves, then watched her as she connected the zipper and drew it slowly upward, her fingers fiddling a little with the hood and drawstrings to get them sitting right.
Task done, she could have easily stepped away– but instead she lingered, her hands smoothing out the fabric over his shoulders, a smile in her voice.
"It suits you."
Holding himself utterly still, he drew a slow breath through his nose, forcing his hands to remain locked at his sides even as they ached to reach for her. After four years of constant practice, he was a master at resisting the urge to kiss her, but right now, he was closer to failing than he had ever been.
And then her eyes lifted to his, and he felt the wind knocked out of him, because everything in her gaze said he wasn't the only one fighting that particular battle.
Slowly, her hands drifted down to rest against his chest, her expression turning tentative, almost vulnerable. "Castle…"
A sudden explosion of cheers and applause from the bullpen made them both jump, and a split second later she'd taken a large, hasty step back, both of them turning towards the still-shuttered windows with wide eyes before glancing back at each other, confused.
Before they could move, there was a knock on the door, and Lanie cautiously poked her head through, the sounds of celebration flowing in around her.
"The boys are back," she said, a grim satisfaction entering her tone. "They've got them."
He heard Kate's sharply indrawn breath at that, saw her face harden into a familiar stony mask before she abruptly turned for the door, her stride sharp. Following her out into the bullpen, he took up a position close at her back– both in reassurance and in warning– then watched over her shoulder as Ryan and Esposito handed his two captors off to a pair of officers each, the officers flanking them closely as they ushered them into the interrogation rooms.
And then, the two detectives turned, their serious faces instantly breaking into wide, matching grins.
Letting out a whoop, Ryan half-ran across the space separating them, Esposito hot on his heels, and Castle knew his own grin was mirroring theirs, a weight lifting for the first time since he'd been thrown into that van. He felt Kate's shoulder brush against his chest as she turned to look up at him, her eyes swiftly moving over his face– then, clearly reassured by whatever she saw there, she smoothly stepped aside, leaving the way clear for the boys. But even then, she didn't go far, staying close enough that he could easily reach out and touch her.
Or maybe close enough that she could touch him.
A second later, Ryan's body all but collided with his, grabbing him in a tight, long hug as they both let out a breathless laugh. When they pulled back, there were tears on Ryan's cheeks, but his grin was no less bright than before. "It's good to have you back, Castle."
Throat tight, Castle clapped him on the shoulders, then held on, giving an extra little squeeze. "It's good to be back."
"Out of the way, bro," Esposito said, lightly bumping Ryan aside to claim his own hug, his fist thumping a few times against Castle's shoulderblade as he squeezed hard. Then, stepping back, he shook his head, his own eyes suddenly looking a little shiny.
"Hell of a morning you put us through, Castle."
"Hell of a morning," Ryan echoed, his smile wavering for a moment, something a little haunted passing behind his eyes.
"Sorry, guys. Won't happen again," Castle said, then made a face, adding, "Hopefully."
"It won't," Kate muttered from beside him, the utter steel in her voice making something tighten in his gut, his hand twitching with the need to reach for hers.
Fleeting as it was, he didn't miss the way Esposito glanced over at her, a flicker of sympathy crossing his features before he straightened his shoulders and turned his gaze back to Castle's, holding out a fist. "So. You ready to come watch us nail these guys?"
Bumping his own fist against Esposito's, he gave a hard nod. "Definitely."
As the guys turned and led the way to the observation room, Castle glanced at Kate, who fell in close by his side as they followed. Stepping into the dimly lit room after Ryan, he looked through first one window, and then the other, then nodded.
"That's definitely them. The dead-eyed one was the shot-caller, and the fiery one was the idiot that I tricked into leaving me on my own."
Moving to join his partner, Esposito put a hand on Ryan's shoulder, his voice determined. "We've got this, Castle. They're going down."
"Yeah," Ryan agreed firmly, his chin lifting. "They're not getting away with this, Castle."
Looking from one to the other, he gave them both a small smile. "I know. Thanks, guys. I mean it."
As he watched, the two of them glanced at each other in a second of silent communication, then they each looked to Kate, giving the slightest dip of their heads, before finally their gazes turned back to him. With brief, firm nod each, they split off in separate directions, disappearing out of opposite doors, leaving he and Kate alone.
Within seconds Ryan was entering the closer of the two rooms, his tone deliberately needling as he greeted the agitated, pacing younger man and immediately began peppering him with questions and comments. A moment later the door to the other room opened, and a hard-faced Esposito entered, pulled out his chair, and took a seat, all without a word.
Looking from one to the other– steely silence versus weaponized chatter– Castle said quietly, "Whoever they work for is still out there."
"I know," she murmured, shifting a little closer so her shoulder brushed his. "And we're going to find them and put them away too. Or put them in the ground, if that's what it takes. They're never touching you again, Castle."
This time, he let himself give in to the urge, one hand slowly reaching out and curling around hers. Eyes still locked on the interrogation windows, she gripped back hard, holding on like she'd never let go.
...For all of about a minute.
Then, she suddenly pulled away, and he swallowed back a sigh as she swiftly stepped away, putting her back to him as she moved closer to the windows.
Putting space between them again, like always. He should have known better, should have expected that she–
She hit the intercom button, abruptly silencing the two interrogations, and that, he certainly hadn't expected.
He saw her draw a deep breath, her hands curling into fists at her sides, and then she slowly turned to face him, her eyes fixing on his.
When she spoke, her voice was raw, carrying the depth of emotion he'd only ever heard when she spoke about her mother.
"You terrify me, Castle."
Taken aback, he opened his mouth, but she cut him off, the words coming out stronger, more intense.
"What I feel for you terrifies me. It always has. But that fear is nothing compared to what I felt today."
"Kate–"
"I love you," she said suddenly, the words blunt, abrupt, like they'd been forcing their way up for so long that she couldn't hold them back anymore. "I love you, Castle, and I should have said it the moment you walked into my hospital room a year ago, but I was too much of a coward to face it then. And because of that, you could have died today thinking I didn't feel the same."
She took a step closer, and he saw a tear roll swiftly down her cheek, her voice on the edge of breaking. "I couldn't have lived with that, Castle. I couldn't– I couldn't have lived without you."
"Kate," he said again, half-whisper, half-moan. Then, before he could waste any more of the precious seconds with her that he'd thought he'd never get to have, he took a swift step forward, one hand finding her waist as the other cupped her cheek, and he bent his head, his nose brushing her cheek as his lips sought hers-
Only to feel her fingers suddenly close around his wrist, her other hand lifting to press firmly against his chest, right over his fragile heart.
"Wait," she said breathlessly, the words piercing him far more painfully than the bullet had. Sounding almost as panicked as he felt, she blurted, "We can't. I don't want to hurt you."
The choked "What?" that tumbled from his lips tasted like the sudden violent death of every hope that had sprung into life only moments before, the fall from cloud nine down into the ninth circle of hell happening more swiftly than he could have ever possibly imagined. Stunned, he let his hand start to drop from her face, but she only gripped tighter, holding him in place.
"No, I– your lip, Castle," she rushed out, the hand at his chest lifting, one fingertip scarcely brushing the skin just under a point on his lower lip. "Your lip is split, and– and you're bruised and already in pain and I don't–"
He stared. "Wait. You don't want to kiss me because you don't want to make the cut on my lip sting?"
"Yes," she said softly, then gave her head a small shake, the softness of her cheek shifting beneath his palm. "And no."
Before he could ask what the hell that meant, her eyes dropped to his lips, and she blew out a shaky breath, her voice the low, hesitant whisper of a confessional booth. "I always want to kiss you, Castle. There's just... always reasons why I can't."
As she said it, the fingers that had been hovering near the corner of his mouth drifted down to the underside of his jaw, tracing over the old shaving scar he'd shown her only hours ago, then moved to curl around the back of his neck, like she couldn't keep herself from touching him, from holding him, keeping him bound to her.
"Okay," he said slowly, deliberately forcing down the hope that was trying to burst out of his skin, his heart racing like the final milliseconds on a countdown clock, his body bracing for the detonation. "And in a day or two, when this particular reason no longer applies... will there be a new reason?"
For a moment, she didn't reply, her thumb stroking softly over the skin below his ear before she tentatively lifted her eyes back to his, his own fear and hope and love reflected back at him so clearly that he couldn't believe he'd never seen it before. Then, she shook her head slightly. "No."
"In that case," he said, lowering his head again to brush his nose gently against hers, a slow, careful caress. "May I make a suggestion?"
"Castle," she breathed, a plea or warning or both, but her eyes fluttered shut, her head tilting up just a little– and god, she really did want this. Want him.
He may have managed not to die today, but damn if he hadn't reached heaven anyway.
Gently shifting his hand from her face to cradle the back of her head, he let his lips ghost over her cheek, feeling her fingertips flex against the back of his neck in response.
"You can trust me, Kate," he murmured against her skin, as softly and reverently as a prayer. "And we can go as slow as you want. I'm not going anywhere."
She made a half-swallowed sound that could have been a whimper, her hand sliding down his wrist to curl around the back of his elbow, anchoring him to her, as if there was ever any danger of him letting her go now.
Or ever again.
Letting his hand drift from her hip to her back, he drew her just a fraction closer, his lips slowly tracing along the line of her jaw before detouring a little, pressing a tiny, feather-light kiss to the corner of her mouth.
Her sudden sharp intake of breath through her nose and tight grip at his elbow was at odds with the small, timid movement of her head, her face turning just a fraction of an inch towards his, and he didn't need words to understand what she was asking of him.
The first brush of his lips over hers was so light that he hardly got more than a tantalizing sense of silken warmth before they parted again, and he paused for a half-moment to gauge her response– which primarily consisted of threading her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull before leaning back in and letting her lips find his again, even that barely-there touch sending lightning through his skin.
Feeling bold, he gently drew her bottom lip between his, and she sighed into him before kissing him back with such soft tenderness that he was actually almost thankful for the fist he'd taken to the face earlier, because without it, their first real official kiss would have been wildly different, no doubt fast and messy and full of the explosive kind of heat that four years of starving for each other would bring.
Not that that would have been a bad thing, exactly– and damn if he wasn't looking forward to exploring every aspect of that particular kind of kiss in just a day or two– but this... this was worth every single second of those four years. This was worth every moment of doubt, of heartache, of longing and pain.
She was worth it all.
Tilting his head, he changed up the angle a little, but kept the kiss just as gentle, keeping his silent promise to her. Still, he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of her, the lingering touches, the tiny almost-moans that escaped her as she returned his kiss, her body trembling beneath his hands.
But because he knew her, he knew when to carefully draw back, swallowing back a tiny, reluctant sigh as he lowered his forehead to rest against hers.
"See?" he asked, his voice emerging far huskier than he'd intended. "Not so scary, right?"
"I don't know," she said shakily, her hand shifting from his upper arm to join the other that was cupping his neck. "That might have been the most terrifying thing you've ever done."
"Well, I hear exposure therapy is very effective for facing your fears," he said, his tone caught between teasing and tenderness as he let his hands clasp together behind her lower back, keeping her safely ensconced in the circle of his arms.
Her soft huff of laughter felt like victory, as did the look in her eyes when she finally lifted them to meet his, the silent promise she didn't even try to hide.
So he didn't, either.
Voice low and warm, he murmured, "I love you, Kate."
Her answering smile was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, her voice the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.
"I love you too, Castle."
Forcibly resisting the urge to forget all about his stupid split lip and simply kiss her senseless, Castle raised his brows, reluctantly shifting the topic.
"Enough to come home with me tonight and help me explain what happened today to my mother and daughter?"
Seeing the pained look that crossed her face, he cursed himself, and was fumbling for the words to fix it when she beat him to it.
"Yes."
He blinked. "Yes?"
"On two conditions."
There was a tiny spark in her eye that was utterly intriguing and also hot as hell, and he swallowed, nodding. "Go on."
"One, you go find Lanie right now, and get some glue for that lip," she said, eyes dropping to his mouth in a way that had his heart pounding wildly against his ribs. "And two, we spend at least two hours at my place before we go to yours."
"Deal," he blurted, dropping his arms so quickly from around her waist that she laughed, stroking her hands down over his collarbones to his chest before giving him a gentle push backward.
"Then get going."
He was in such a hurry to get out the door that he nearly collided with Ryan, who had clearly just finished his interrogation– not that they'd heard more than a few words of it.
"Whoa, where are you off to so fast?" Ryan asked, his brow creasing in confusion and concern.
Ducking past him with a hasty apology, Castle didn't stop, even as he heard Beckett answer for him, her voice smug.
"He's got a date."
The words sent a little thrill through him, and he quickened his pace, spotting Lanie in the break room and immediately heading her way– never even noticing all the eyes that followed his hasty path through the bullpen, his mind too busy with one single, incredible thought.
He had a date– but not just any date.
It was his first date with Katherine Beckett, love of his life... and the last first date either of them would ever have.
God, he was so glad he hadn't died today.
Not when they had an entire lifetime to share first.
Sorry it took me (*checks notes*) almost a decade, guys. I hope you liked the ending, and I would love to hear if you did.
Hope your other post-Castle fandom obsessions have been as amazing as the awesome experience of being in the Castle fandom x