Sleepless

When he comes out of the writing haze, it's dark. He hits the save button on the document multiple times, just in case, and lets the laptop snap shut. A deep breath helps but doesn't quite clear out the lingering darkness from the few chapters he just managed to churn out. He needs to get out, away from Nikki and Rook and their case.

The lights are off in the living room – Alexis and Martha must have gone to bed hours ago – so he nearly stubs his toe on the couch as he goes for the front closet. Shrugging into the black peacoat, he checks to make sure that his keys and phone are in his pocket before he locks the door behind him.

New York is freezing. Snow hadn't fallen yet and he wishes winder worked like summer. A good storm breaks a heat wave. A good Nor'easter should bring the temperature up a few degrees from Arctic. If only…

He huddles into the jacket. Coffee. He needs coffee. There are coffee shops at every corner, normally crammed with artists and 9-to-5'ers. Not too many of those people out at nearly one in the morning. In fact, most of his normal places, the ones he stops at in the morning before going to the Twelfth, are closed.

Castle pauses in the middle of the sidewalk, glancing from drab grey building to grey building. There's that twenty-four hour shop a few blocks away. Nice leather chairs and not too many students studying into the night but just enough to provide some sort of company.

It's a brisk walk to the little shop tucked in between a brownstone and an art gallery. A little bell rings, echoing off the dark walls.

"Morning," chirps the young woman behind the counter, books spread in front of her.

He hums a response back at her. But his gaze is on the scattering of people at the tables. A couple cuddling in a single armchair, murmuring to one another. One guy near the window, the glow of his laptop lighting the angles of his face. The keys clack. Castle doesn't really want to hear that sound after writing for hours.

He gravitates toward the back corner, hidden from the view of the window and bathed in darkness. There's only one other person in the back, curled up into a chair, winter boots on the ground so that her stocking feet are tucked under her legs. Her hood is pulled up, hiding most of her face but he can see the peek of brown hair, curling at her shoulders.

"Beckett?" He ducks his head down, trying to see under the hood. Definitely her.

She blinks, slowly at first. Then faster when she realizes who is in front of her. "Castle?" She yawns, body tensing as she tries to stretch in the confined space. "What're you doin' here?"

"Good question. I'm not the one napping in a coffee shop."

Kate slides her feet from under her, searching for her boots on the ground. "Doesn't matter," she says, pushing her hood off her head. "Got the day off tomorrow anyway."

He sits in the neighboring armchair, arms braced on his knees as he leans toward her. "You were sleeping. In a coffee shop. At one in the morning. Don't you have an apartment?"

"Lost track of time." Her voice is rough, still scratchy with sleep.

"So you don't have an apartment?"

She narrows her eyes at him and he's almost certain they're going to slide shut completely. "I have an apartment."

"Then why…?" He watches her face nearly shut down; she hates it when he pushes like this but he needs to know. If she needed a place to stay, damn, all she had to do was call him. Except that equaled admitting defeat in her mind and she'd never do that, not if she could help it.

"I'm alone, Castle. At home, I'm alone."

The sadness in her voice nearly breaks his heart. He shifts forward, reaching a hand out, nearly resting it on her wrist but second-guessing. It withdraws, settling on his knee. "Beckett…"

"No," she says, regaining some of her strength as she leans over to lace up her boots. "I do not need your sympathy or quips right now."

This time he doesn't hesitate as he catches her hand, jerking her back down into her chair. "Just tell me. Please."

Her head falls into her hands, fingers tangling in her hair. "Can we not do this here?" she whispers, glancing up at him from through her palms. "I just… Not here."

He follows her out of the coffee shop, letting her lead the way. She's shivering; he can see the subtle trembling of her shoulders under the fabric of her jacket. Don't touch her, he reminds himself. Let her dictate this thing. She goes to the park, sitting on one of the benches.

"You gonna sit?" she asks dryly, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to trap heat against her body.

Castle buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket before settling next to her.

"I don't sleep well," she starts. When he turns, she's looking at the little fountain, water illuminated by underwater lights. "It started after Mom died. I'd just wander around, sitting in places like this or in coffee shops. Sometimes I'd make it back home, find Dad sprawled out on the couch. Other times I'd just fall asleep wherever."

Her fingers tighten on her sleeves, her lips turning down in a hint of a frown.

"Kept doing it through college. There were a few days when I'd wake up with no idea where I was or whose bed I was in. Lots of those started with a night of questionable decisions anyway so I suppose it made sense."

"Wild child phase?"

His comment draws a short laugh from her and he feels his chest loosen a little with the sound.

"More like wild child phase part two." She finally looks at him, quirking her mouth up into a smile. "I don't sleep well alone."

"I could sleep with you." When she levels a look at him, he holds his hands up between them. "Like, on your couch or something. You don't need to sleep in coffee shops with strangers, Beckett."

She sighs, relaxing back against the bench. "Thanks, but…"

"No." He makes his voice as hard as possible, finding her eyes in the darkness of the park. "Next time, you call me. I'll pick you up and you can come sleep in the guest room or I'll take your couch or something. Okay?"

"Castle, I'm not gonna…"

He takes her hand, holding it against her reflex to pull it back against her body. "Yes, you are. Promise me, okay? Promise you'll call?"

He watches her debate, fingers flexing in his grasp. Her mouth opens twice, closing each time without a word. Finally, she nods jerkily. "Fine. I'll call you."

"Thank you." Castle releases her hand, diving into the pocket of his coat to dial up the car service.

After he hangs up, he doesn't say anything else to the woman next to him. She's wringing her hands in her lap, probably an attempt to keep warm, and completely avoiding his gaze. Cars honk, people curse, music plays far too loudly over their heads.

A plain white car stops behind them and one of the regular drivers from the car service jumps out, waving to them. The driver holds the door open for them and Castle lets her slide in before him.

"Can we stop at my place?" she asks quietly, glancing up at him as the driver turns the heat up another notch. The warmed air makes her hair feather over her cheeks. "I just need to get some things."

He stays in the car as she goes up to her apartment. When she returns, he sets the weekender bag she has in her hands on the ground between them. None of the sounds of the city seep into the car as they drive back to his building. She spends the ride looking out the window and he's almost certain she's asleep until the car stops and she reaches for the bag.

"I got it," he says, fingertips brushing hers as he picks the leather bag up. "Thanks, Dan," he tells the driver as he slips the man a tip.

Kate is already out of the car, at the front door of the building. The night doorman catches a glimpse of Castle and opens the door to the both of them.

"Night, Mr. Castle, Detective."

He edges ahead of her, unlocking the door to the apartment. She stands in the front hallway, glancing around in the relative darkness of the living room, the low light from over the stovetop.

"Here." He holds out her bag, exchanging it for her jacket. He's in the closet, hanging the matching peacoats up when she speaks softly behind him.

"Don't mention this to anyone at work?"

"Wise ass, Beckett, not jackass. They won't hear a word of it from me."

Her shoulders slump with relief. As if a weight was lifted up and off them, one that had settled there for far too long. She looks like she wants to step closer to him but instead, she turns to go for the stairs. He's already halfway to the bedroom when he hears her again.

"Thank you, Castle."

He pivots and finds her on the landing before the second half of the stairs. "Not a problem."

And he hopes that she sleeps well that night.