Close Encounters 23

When Kate was certain that Castle was asleep beside her, she stopped trying to hold it in.

The tears leaked out of her eyes and rolled back into her ears, her hair, on and on, and she cried. She just let it happen because she was so damn tired and her son missed her, because she wanted to get the hell out of here but she couldn't even sit up on her own for a video call.

Because she couldn't be sure that the Collective wouldn't find them at the airport, because she was sure that the Collective was closer than Castle had told her, because tomorrow was another chelation day and she was already dreading it, because Black was on the other side of the wall not in handcuffs any longer and she herself had sent Mitchell away.

Because she'd do it all over again for that healthy, kisses-giving boy. She'd do it again.

God, it hurt. It really hurt.

And she felt bad enough to let it swallow her up, let it drown her. And then maybe if it all just ran in rivers out of her eyes, maybe it would go away. Maybe she could fucking get it together and put on a brave face and do what needed to be done to get home again.

She pictured James again, let herself feel it, sucking in a shallow breath as tears clogged her lungs. James as a tiny little newborn, and his fingers that would curl around hers and that rose-pink mouth. James in the backyard with Sasha under his spell, the dog pressed against the baby's side on the blanket. James watching her from the crib when she went to pick him up, solemn and waiting. James sitting in her father's lap, chewing on his toy, completely delighted at seeing their faces on the laptop screen.

Worth it. Worth every bit of this hell.

Even if Castle didn't agree with her; even if he looked sick about it. Even if-

She was going to survive this. She was already surviving it. No question. A few tears, if that's how she had to make it through another night in a foreign city, then she'd cry a few fucking tears and be better tomorrow.

Kate scrubbed the backs of her hands against her eyes, swiped at the wetness slicking her cheeks, and then she rolled over into Castle.

He was warm, and large, and he was everything that was certain - and he should've gone home.

She should have sent him home. She should have kept Mitchell here in Cologne with her and Black until it was done so that Castle could escape home. He should be slipping out of Germany on a military flight right now, away from the Collective, away from this mess, safely to their son.

But she hadn't told him that. She hadn't even suggested it.

Because she couldn't survive this without him.

Castle found his moment alone with her the day Black finally left the apartment on his own. They had been in Cologne for five days, walking this high wire of letting Black feel he'd won and doing the real work of healing Kate. It'd been the last step in their plan, but really, it wasn't at all hard to let his father go. Castle was eager for Black to get out from underfoot.

Kate was sitting up in the red chair, but he was pretty sure she was feeling worse than she had in a while. It was at least an in-between day.

He sat down on the bed, patted the mattress next to him with an inviting look. She shook her head, and he wondered if it was because she didn't want to or if she just couldn't.

"Still haven't made contact with Hunt or the courier," he said, jumping right into it. "Mitchell is looking into it for us."

Kate sighed and rested her cheek against the slope of the chair back. "It's my fault. I told you to trust Hunt."

"I don't know that he's run off," Castle said, though he thought maybe he had. "But it's not about Hunt."

"The extraction," she sighed, closing her eyes. "It was supposed to have already been here."

"Yeah," he agreed. They'd run out of infusion three days ago.

Watching her, she was a pale slash against the lurid red of the chair. The morning light made her luminous, and he couldn't imagine she would fade. A week ago and he hadn't been sure of anything. Felt like his whole life had been ending. Now she was sitting up in a chair.

"It will come," she murmured. "I had a dream last night that James was asleep on my chest." She opened her eyes now and smiled at him.

"You thinking it's a sign?" he said, not sure even of that.

"No," she murmured. "No. Just - it was nice."

Castle got up off the bed and came for her, scooped her up in his arms. She stiffened but he was only trying to get close; he shifted to sit in the red chair with Kate in his arms. She sighed a little, but she wriggled to get into the small space left next to his hip.

"It was nice, huh?" he said. He nudged his nose into her neck and kissed her skin. "You smell like spicy lemon soap. You take a shower?"

"Mm, not yet. Just leftover I guess." She leaned her head into him and he lifted a hand to stroke her hair. First time they'd been able to touch without worrying about Black looming over their shoulders.

"Hey, this scar is fading," he said, stroking the place at her neck from Tunisia. "Shit, more than just fading - it's gone."

"Started to fade when I was pregnant," she told him. But she lifted her chin and pressed her own fingers to that place where the knife had cut into her. "What about behind my ear?"

He scraped his fingers through her hair and pulled it back, rubbed his thumb. "Gone. Totally gone. And look, feel this?" He caught her hand and pulled it to the spot at her ear where one of Black's mercenaries had clubbed her so hard it'd left a mark.

"I feel.. what?"

"Hair growing in there too. The scar pushed in a little and now it's short, downy-"

"Recent," she murmured, lifting her head to look at him. "How recent?"

"Past few days."

"The extraction from James?" she said, lifting her eyebrows. "Do your scars fade like that?"

He rubbed the place behind her ear. "They... do."

"What about the one on your wrist-" She came to a dead stop, her fingers hooked around his wrist. "Holy shit, it's gone. When did that happen?"

"Year ago. After I got sick. They fade - but it takes time and multiple injections of the serum. When I met you, Kate, I'd been quitting the stuff - and this had just happened."

"No," she gasped, jerking back. "It had just happened? You acted like - when I asked you, pointblank, when that was, you said years ago."

"Not that many years. A few. Within the last decade."

She laughed, shaking her head a little at him. "Okay, Rick. Fine. A few years. So it takes a few years, but your scars fade. And now mine are too."

"The shallow ones," he said, stroking at her neck again. "I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"Sorry?" she said. "Why are you sorry?"

"Just - losing so much here. Losing memories, badge of honor. I mean you survived some pretty intense stuff, and it's just gone. I know the feeling. Like nothing can touch you. It's cool at first, but it's not later. When you realized nothing is allowed to touch you."

"Yeah, but the damn stretch marks are probably gone."

Castle laughed, stroked his hand down her side to skim up her shirt. "Oh yeah? Should I check for you?"

"Do that," she whispered, her smile flickering to life.

He canted in over her, pressed his mouth to her abdomen. She laughed, clutching his head, and he tickled his beard across her belly until she was gasping.

"Castle, Castle-!"

He kissed her, licked the skin where, yes, the stretch marks were absolutely gone. It was sad to him, all that work gone, like their life had never happened.

"Castle?"

"Stretch marks are gone," he said and lifted his head again. She cupped his neck in her hand and her eyes were soft.

"It's okay, Rick. I don't mind losing a few scars. That doesn't bother me. Especially when it's saving my life."

Castle flinched. "You're right. You're exactly right." He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her against him. "Lose the scars, Beckett. Smoother skin the better. How do you feel?"

"Grateful the chelation is over," she sighed. "So grateful."

"Threkeld wants you to stay on the extraction though. For a while. We - we really need to find that courier."

She nodded against him, but he could already feel how her fingers were loosening at his hip, her body leaning heavier into him. She fell asleep like this all the time now, like his warmth and safety were drugging.

He didn't mind. She could fall asleep on him any time.

They really needed that next round of extraction. Where the hell was Hunt?

No more chelation. Black had reluctantly agreed that she was on the mend, had even said that her body seemed able to take over the process of balance on its own.

No more chelation, thank God. She wanted to celebrate and Castle had gone out lurking through the city to try another rendezvous with Hunt - the sly bastard had better show up.

She wanted chocolate.

She settled for standing up from the red chair and walking on her own to the balcony windows, her hand on the latch. The sky beyond was sparkling with stars so bright she could almost taste them behind the glass.

Kate pushed her thumb to the latch and the doors rattled as she struggled to open them. She found herself breaking out into a sweat, worried that Black would hear from the bedroom and come out to stop her, but the fight went on.

And then the lock popped free and she let out a little hysterical laugh, put her shoulder to the door. Freedom.

Of a sort.

The doors opened outward onto the balcony, and the night came pouring in against her, swamping her senses with diamond-cut darkness. She swayed on the concrete floor, her hands caught on the knobs of the doors, and then she took a slow step out.

Kate released the doors, let herself be buffeted by the night air and the stars.

She stood up, alone under all of it, and she felt good.

A little weak. But good. The darkness of the night was astounding, and the stars were so bright overhead, despite being inside the city limits. Cologne was alive at this hour, but not here, not in this alley in the Old Town, where the homes here were close together and family-oriented. She saw a few lights on across the street, almost close enough to touch, but it was the starry sky that had her enthralled.

She sank to a wrought-iron chair and settled in, her elbows on the little cafe table. The iron rubbed hard against her bones, but she wouldn't move for the world.

She breathed freedom, and yes, she knew it had been her own idea to let Black out of his chains, make him think they were reluctantly trusting him. But the night was so alluring and she'd been sick so long.

"Beckett!"

She startled, realizing she had practically nodded off sitting at the table out here, and she stood slowly to go back inside, confront Castle. But when she stepped to the doors to through, she could see clearly that Castle hadn't yet returned.

"Beckett. Psst. Beckett."

It wasn't Castle; that was Hunt.

She stumbled back to the wrought-iron railing, gripped the bars as she leaned over. Down in the street, she could see only a shadow against the cobblestones and brick. "Hunt?"

"Shhh," the form hissed. The shadow separated from the darker depths and moved into the faint light coming in behind her from the living room. "You need to come down."

"What?" she growled.

"I've got - what you need," he started. And then a clatter down the street had him darting back into the shadows and out of view. On instinct, Kate shrank back as well, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be there.

Or maybe she wasn't.

Kate snaked back into the living room and fell against the red chair on her way to her phone, captured it in her hand and pressed her thumb to the menu button. It recognized her print and opened - bypassing the lock screen entirely - and she checked her messages.

Nothing from Castle. She shot him a quick text, Hunt is here. Downstairs. Where are you?

And then she doused the lights and headed back out to the balcony. Hopefully Black would think she was going to sleep and not come searching.

Hunt had the extraction.

She might have to go down there.

But where was Castle?

No text, nothing from Castle, and the rain had started again, forcing her to a decision.

"I'm coming down," she told him. Hunt made a sign and slinked back into the darkness, and hopefully some shelter from the rain.

Fuck, Castle was going to murder someone when he found out she was doing this.

Kate took a steadying breath and reached a hand out to keep herself upright. She found a pair of jeans - she was fucking tired of sweatpants - and sank down onto the edge of the bed to put them on quietly. It was a struggle, it made her break out in a sweat, and it was forcing her to confront just how weak she was.

But that she could do it at all - that was heartening.

Kate tugged the hooded sweatshirt on over her arms, trying to be careful of the place where the port had been. It still ached, bruised in her joints, and she held her elbow carefully against her side.

Shoes.

She found a pair of ballet flats that would be ruined by the rain, but it was the best she could do in the dark without waking Black. She put the .38 in one pocket of the sweatshirt, the phone in the other, and then she headed for the door.

She didn't have keys. Shit. Black could lock her out if she-

Fine. Lock her out. Who the fuck cared? When Castle got back, he had keys, and it wasn't like she enjoyed sitting up in that room waiting for Black to renege on his deal.

Kate left the door propped open, pushing it to the frame but not letting it close, and then she took tentative steps down the hallway. Her heart was pounding - both exhilaration and strain - and she slid her hand along the wall to help guide her, keep her steady. The hallway was in complete darkness - Castle and Mitch had half-unscrewed the light bulbs and no one had gotten in touch with the landlord so they could be fixed.

To their benefit - to Castle's anyway - but not to hers. She was having to count her steps as she went, blind in the dark interior hall.

She hit the stairs before she thought they should be there, and she had to clutch wildly at the banister to keep from falling. Her pulse was jackrabbiting in her skull and she sank down to her ass on the second step, hanging from the railing.

Okay, breathe. Deep breaths. They needed those extractions from home; she needed them.

Kate swallowed down the moment of panic and stood again, felt with her feet for the next step. Her muscles were jittery with adrenaline, like when she'd woken up in the back of an ambulance to see Hunt's face staring down at her. That was emblazoned on her memory, and would be for the rest of her life, she had no doubt.

She tripped on a few steps, but she felt less panicky the further she got from the apartment. Which spoke volumes about where her head was at, but she didn't have time for a therapy session right now.

If she wanted to go home, she had to have those vials. Chelation, even though it was over, could be started at a whim if Black felt she hadn't progressed. And Castle, even though he was so sweet and trying, Castle kept listening to Black and Logan and giving in to the treatment.

No more chelation. She was done; it was over. Chelation therapy was supposed to be a six-week ordeal, off and on again, just like the time she'd gotten iron infusions after Castle had nearly died. But this chelation was killing her slowly - at least that was how it felt.

Kate was determined not to be on chelation a day longer. She needed those vials Hunt had brought.

She was just down to the final step when the phone vibrated angrily in her pocket, startling her so badly she fell against the wall and smashed her still-tender elbow.

Fuck.

Kate groaned and sat down on the bottom step, forehead to her knees, gulping down pain, and she fished the phone out of her pocket.

A message from Castle. I'm where he was supposed to be meeting me. Fucking asshole. I'm on my way.

Well, if she were Hunt, she wouldn't be meeting Castle alone in the dark either. Castle with Mitch as back-up.

No wonder Hunt had come to her instead.

Kate struggled to stand with the help of the railing, and then she took a slow step across the cool marble floor of the lobby, heading for the garden doors. The air was warmer, though the bulbs were out here too. She could see well enough from the garden lampposts and lantern lights that shimmered in the rain; they cast a moon-like path towards the door.

She opened it quietly, but it wasn't covert enough.

A hand wrapped around her mouth, an arm around her waist, and she was jerked out into the night.

The End of Close Encounters 23: Nobody Lives For Ever

Stay Tuned for Close Encounters 24: Moonraker