You Can Always Go Home

4.

Castle finds his son wide awake in the bassinet beside their bed; Kate's asleep at least, but he can tell it's a light and surface sleep, so he eases out from under the covers. He slides his hands under Dashiell, silently begging the baby to just keep quiet, and brings the skinny little thing to his chest.

He escapes the bedroom and pads barefoot down the hall, nudges up the thermostat a little more. Dashiell is squirming against him, little whimpery protests, but it's not the angry cries or the pitiful ones either. Alexis was such an easy baby; Castle had no idea how easy until now.

"But you're worth it," he whispers to his son, turning his body to shield the baby from the sunlight pouring through the living room windows. "I know, I know. Terrible way to wake up, isn't it? So bright."

Dashiell rubs his face against Castle's shirt and he palms the kid's skull, his hand practically dwarfing the boy's head. He's long, but he was three weeks early, and so now at four weeks old, he's still got that narrow face and the stick limbs of a newborn.

Kate's worried over it, but Castle remembers how thin Alexis was too. Added to that is the way Dashiell constantly moves, burning up energy, always fussing or crying or squirming, and it's no wonder the kid hasn't rounded out yet.

"Hey, wild man. Guess we should've known how feisty you'd be out here too, huh? Never letting mommy sleep."

Dashiell reminds him so much of Kate. All that nonstop energy, and the way his eyes absorb emotion, soaking it up and brimming with it. He remembers sitting across the conference room table with Beckett and reading her whole life just in her eyes, an easy mark despite the grim facade. Dashiell has that too, but it's unguarded and naked - there are no walls around his heart.

No walls at all.

The responsibility of his son's vulnerable heart thunders through him, and he stops in the middle of the kitchen with a clutching in his chest, breaths shallow.

His hands are tight on his son and he has to make an effort to loosen them, to keep from startling the baby. He brushes his mouth to the boy's temple and wonders how in the world he can possibly keep Dashiell innocent and unbroken and not wounded.

Like his mother.

Castle feels the burn of it in his throat and he turns around, still cuddling the boy at his chest, heading back for the bedroom. He shouldn't wake her, but he has to. He can't help it. He wishes it were easier, any of this, but this is what they have and he's tired of apologizing for it, tired of hemming in his love to something more appropriate and acceptable. For his son's sake, he won't do it anymore.

He sits on her side of the bed with Dashiell held against his chest and his little head bobbing as he tries to squirm, and Castle reaches out a hand to Kate's shoulder and tries to at least wake her gently.

She sucks in a breath when she rouses, jerking, but her eyes open on him and her hand raises to curl around Dashiell's little socked foot. Her face is still smooth and content with the last of her sleep; she even looks like she might be smiling at him.

"Hey, he need me?" she murmurs.

"No. I - I do."

"Castle?" Is that concern in her eyes?

"I want. . ." How does he explain? How much he wants to be the one standing beside her as her heart finally heals, how he wants to play a part in that for the sake of their son.

She starts to sit up, her hands reaching for Dashiell, and the wild and clutching need that possessed him starts to fade.

But not the truth it imparted.

"I want us to get married," he says finally. "He deserves that. You deserve that-"

She's got the boy now even as Dashiell wriggles and his little legs kick. "Castle," she says softly, and he feels her fingers wrapping around his wrist. "Oh, Castle. That's very sweet."

He's not expecting that answer, not really, and he's surprised too by the soft kiss she pushes into his mouth. Her tongue traces the seam of his lips in a move that has him opening for her in a heartbeat, the need reawakening in his guts.

She's stroking his waist and snaking her fingers under his tshirt, plucking at the waistband of his pajama pants like they can actually do anything here, and he might combust if she doesn't stop that wicked thing with her tongue.

Dashiell gives a whining noise and they break apart, both staring down at the baby and breathing hard, and Castle recovers first, scrapes a hand down his face.

"Was that still a no?" he mutters.

She laughs softly, a little breathless, and lifts Dashiell up to her chest, soothing the baby by stroking her fingers along the dark hair at his skull. The boy wriggles against her and lets out a plaintive cry, fists hitting her collarbone, and Castle waits.

Castle waits, but she doesn't say anything.

5.

"I have an idea," he says carefully.

Kate tilts her head and bounces with Dashiell down the hallway, watching Castle as he stands at the threshold to the bedroom. "What? I'm open to anything."

"I did some research online. Sometimes the colic. . ."

She winces as a particularly terrible cry comes from their son, and she curls her arms up so that he's against her chest again. The shift in position puts his mouth against her neck, and it's just so sad, he's so terribly pitiful, and it makes her whole body ache for him. Her little boy, her poor baby.

Thanksgiving was a disaster, despite the fact that her father came over and they had this great conversation about her mother and how much her mom felt overwhelmed at the beginning too. It's not even that anymore; it's just how helpless she feels in the face of her son's misery.

"Sometimes what, Castle?" she prompts, her hand cupping the back of Dashiell's head to keep him from flipping out of her arms. It's like he's trying to get away from it, trying to squirm right out of his own body.

"Formula," Castle blurts out.

Formula for what? She lifts questioning eyes to him and he hurries into the room.

"Feed him formula and sometimes - it takes longer to digest, it's more complex a substance - sometimes it works," he finishes. "Sometimes switching to formula can ease the colic."

"But the doctor said that breastfeeding him was supposed to cut down on his chances of having colic."

"Well, it's not working, is it?"

"It's spectacularly not working."

"Kate, if you don't want to let. . .I understand. The bonding thing. I just wonder if we got the hypoallergenic formula. . ."

She hesitates and Dashiell rubs his face against her skin, giving a piercing cry that brings Alexis to the top of the stairs. Kate bites the inside of her lip and sways with Dash, but her arms are shaking because she's been holding him so long now, and he's got to be so very tired, and yes, okay, anything. She'll try anything. "Go get the formula. There's a pharmacy open all night, a couple blocks-"

"Yeah?" Castle breathes out. "Really? Okay, okay - I'll go right now."

She watches him jerk forward and move past her in the hallway and he stops for just a moment at them, leans down to brush his lips over the top of their son's head. Her hand comes up and makes a fist in his shirt and she can't even stop it; they need this to work.

"Hurry," she mutters, feels her eyes suspiciously bright, but she clamps down on it. Castle nods and then his mouth is on hers in a fierce kiss that makes her realize how grateful she is that she's not alone. She's not alone in this.

And then he's out the door.

"Kate?" Alexis calls.

She gives his daughter a smile, or tries to at least. "Sorry. Go back to bed if you can. I'll take him to the bedroom."

"No, don't do that," Alexis hurries out. "It's fine. I just wanted to see if you needed anything."

"We're okay," she says softly. Alexis seems unsure, but she finally turns around and goes back to bed. Dash is twisting in her arms now and Kate has to clutch at him, her heart pounding as she nearly drops him, and she resumes her pacing.

"Oh, Dashiell, baby, it's okay," she murmurs, pressing her lips to his head. "It's okay, sweetheart. Daddy's gonna go get something that might help you, my sweet boy."

And once she starts, she can't stop. She speaks the words in every language she knows, hoping somehow they'll pierce his agitation and the colic and let him feel how very much she loves him.

For one instant, Dashiell goes still, as if listening to her, and she hums it right into his ear, nonstop and breathless and devoted. "Volim te, volim te, volim te."

That's how Castle finds them when he comes back, Kate now propped up in the hall, her body curled around Dashiell's like she can shield him, the words pouring out of her, and their son finally, fitfully, asleep.

"I've got it," he says quietly. "What do you want to do?"

"He won't be out long," she breathes. "Go ahead and make a bottle." She eases slowly away from the wall and follows him to the kitchen, still swaying Dash since the drag of gravity seems to soothe him somehow.

"You don't mind?" Castle whispers. "And maybe it's formula just at night or naptimes?"

"I don't care what we have to do," she says, shaking her head. "If it works. I will do anything."

He nods and she sees that his hands are shaking as he measures out the formula. They've been on edge for five weeks; she feels like she's in the middle of a war zone when it comes to sleep. And yet, after all the misery at night, Dashiell is such a happy thing in the morning, so sweet and so active, constantly seeking and exploring and making sounds. She can already see his little personality, and she knows if they could all get some sleep, it would be so much better.

Castle shakes the bottle, his finger over the top to keep it from leaking out, and she watches the movement, almost mesmerized.

"Wait till he wakes?" he asks.

She nods but already she can feel Dashiell stirring, his little fists curling and releasing at her chest. She realizes that she and Castle haven't said two words to each other outside of conversation over what to do about the baby, and she loosens a hand and holds it out to him.

He takes it like a lifeline, squeezing, and he comes in close, the bottle and the baby between them. She feels the ghost of a kiss on her neck and then it's like he has to rest there, breathing with her as they wait.

She releases his hand when Dashiell whimpers, pats the baby's back, watches Castle for a moment as he brings the bottle up. "Ready?" he says, a crooked smile on his lips.

"Yeah. Pray it works." She shifts Dashiell to the crook of her arm and he cries, squirming and immediately red-faced, his eyes squeezed tightly shut like he can't bear to open them. Kate takes the bottle of formula from Castle and teases the baby's lips with the nipple. Dash's mouth opens in a thin, exhausted wail, his gums showing, fists moving, and she can't seem to entice him.

But he's probably too angry, too tired to even realize. Castle takes the bottle out of her hands so she can hold on to Dash, keep him from twisting right out of her arms, but his attempts aren't successful either.

"Wait. He likes to be up against my shoulder," she offers. "See if he'll take the bottle like that?"

When she shifts him back up, propped a little high, she turns her back so Castle can get to him, feels his forearm resting on her shoulder as he tries the bottle again. Castle cups the back of Dashiell's head and she pats his back, makes soothing circles with her fingertips, and suddenly there's silence.

Eager sucking, and her son's body seems to melt against her. "Oh, Castle, you got it."

He moves around her now, the bottle propped in one hand at her side as Dashiell sinks down into her shoulder, his cheek pressed hard at her collarbone even as he feeds. Her hand comes up to cover Castle's over the baby's head, and their eyes meet.

"He's taking it."

"He hasn't been getting much when he feeds," she admits. "That's why he's up all the time. He's got to be so hungry, but then the colic. . ."

Castle nods and they stand in the kitchen, swaying together, still holding their breath, their bodies close and warm and vibrating with exhaustion. Castle's chin dips at the same moment she leans in, and their foreheads bump together, both of them giving out little puffs of laughter.

"Ow," he says softly. "You have a hard head."

"Hush," she smiles to herself. "I'm tired and you're a good pillow."

"I'm a terrible pillow," he reminds her. True. But it's so nice like this. She opens her eyes and Castle's are closed, so she goes ahead and sinks into it as well, listening to the sounds Dashiell makes as he sucks on the bottle.

Castle lifts up first, but it's only to switch hands, and then he's wrapping his now free arm around her and pulling both of them against his chest. She rests there, her fingers cupping Dashiell's head and soft ear, her own cheek against Castle's neck.

"He's halfway through," he murmurs. She breathes out and watches the baby, feels him squirm half-heartedly, feels his little fingers splayed out at her skin. "It's almost gone."

And then it is.

Dashiell pops off the bottle and Castle takes it away slowly; Kate holds her breath and keeps making circles on the baby's back. Dashiell twists his head and his face comes to her neck, a long feathery sigh, and then his arms draw into his sides, his body wriggling down.

"He's not crying," Castle whispers.

She wraps both arms around Dashiell, secure and close, and if it's possible, Dash makes himself even smaller, curling up against her chest like he likes the tight, close pressure of her.

And then his eyes slip shut.

"Oh my God, Castle." She stops, her heart clenching and stuttering, and she feels Castle's hand at her neck and the small of her back, holding her up, the baby so heavy and warm in her arms, and it's a miracle.

"He's asleep," Castle breathes out.

"He's asleep." She lifts her head and meets his eyes. "You are fantastic."

"We did it together," he grins. "Partners."

She stands there stunned for a moment as she realizes - yes. Yes. Together.

6.

Alexis curls up with him on the couch and lays her head against his shoulder. For a moment, he's reminded of how it used to be - just the two of them - how even when Meredith was still here, it was just the two of them exploring the world together.

"Remember when you and I used to go to the park?" he says, a smile stretching his lips. He turns off the Baby Einstein DVD that was playing for Dash before Kate took him back for a nap, and he looks at his daughter. "Remember how you used to beg-"

"Yeah," she chuckles. "The one with the bear statues. I loved that park."

"You always wanted to climb into the bear's arms, but you didn't want to get that high. So I'd hold you up."

"I wanted to hug them," Alexis says, lifting her head from his shoulder. "I loved those bears. Something about them seemed. . .like a fairy tale. Like Goldilocks and all the others were alive somewhere and I could see them in that statue."

"Yeah?" he smiles, his heart full at the thought that he did something good for her just by taking her to the park. And the thought that he'll get to do the same for Dashiell, that he and his son will go see those same bear statues and make up stories together and play on the swings and he'll be shaping his son's life.

"Yeah," Alexis sighs. "Like I was Alice. And those statues were a looking glass."

"You know it makes me so proud when you allude to literature," he murmurs, hugging her around the shoulders.

She laughs and lifts her head to kiss his cheek, squeezing his bicep. "I have class in an hour, but you want to meet me for coffee in between Chem and Comp?"

"Comp is. . ."

"Composition. I have an A, of course."

"Good job, pumpkin," he murmurs. "Proud of you. And coffee. Sure. That's at one?"

"Yeah," she nods, already getting up off the couch. "I guess you guys can't bring Dashiell?"

"Not yet. Too many people. Supposed to keep them at home for a few more weeks."

"Germs," she says knowingly, her face hesitant as she looks down at him.

"What?" he says.

"Kate will be okay?"

"I'll be fine," he hears from the doorway. Alexis blushes and they both turn their heads to see Kate coming into the living room. She settles on the couch beside him, one knee pulled up and pressing into his thigh. "Seriously. You go, Castle. Get out of the house. Drink caffeine away from me."

He chuckles. "True. But you've only got a few more days. And then he's totally on formula and you're free."

"Thank God," she grins back. "But in the meantime, drink one for me. Alexis, you too. I probably need a double."

Alexis gives a stuttering step forward and leans down, snakes her arms around Kate's neck and hugs her. "Thanks, Kate."

He sees the stunned look on his partner's face, watches her quickly hide it as Alexis pulls back. He reaches his hand out and wraps his fingers around Kate's, squeezing in gratitude.

"Okay, I'm heading out to class," Alexis says, still blushing but moving for the entryway, fumbling past them. She picks up her bag from the floor and slings it on over her shoulder. "Bye guys. Dad, see you in a couple hours."

When the door closes behind her, Kate loosens her hand in his grip but reaches up and strokes her palm over his shoulder, grips his bicep. "Castle, don't worry about leaving - you go if you need to go. Anywhere. Black Pawn or a book thing or. . .or whatever it is you do when you're not at the 12th with me." She narrows her eyes at him, a calculating look. "What do you usually do?"

Oh, she's teasing him. Not nice. "I do. . .plenty of things. People to see; places to go. All that."

"Uh-huh," she murmurs, lifting an eyebrow.

"Is he asleep?" he asks then, can't help wondering.

She grins wider. "I gave him a bottle and got him to nap. Still a little fussy, but so much better."

"Ohhh, look at you. Super Mom."

She laughs a little, sounding pleased and surprised, and then she leans in and kisses his cheek. "You have fun with Alexis. And maybe in a few weeks, we can go meet her for coffee. All three of us."

"Sounds like a date." He's breathless as he speaks, and she can probably see how much it's affecting him, how his body aches and his chest feels too tight. He can't help himself. The words are practically automatic now. "You know. We could. . .we could get married."

She leans in and kisses his lips, tasting rich and dark, her hand at his chest as she samples him. He can't help curling his fingers at her hip and stroking up her back, his mouth pleasantly buzzing. And then she releases him and stands up from the couch. "Since Dashiell is napping, I'm going to too."

"Kate?" Sometimes now he thinks that she says no just because he asks, that by saying no she's actually saying yes to everything else, like having no contractual obligation to stay with him somehow means more. He thinks that's crazy.

Kate doesn't answer, just stands in front of him and brushes her hand over his head like he's seen her do with Dashiell, her fingers in his hair, that nudge of her thumb to the side of his face as she turns.

And then she leaves him there.

It was worth a shot.

7.

"What about this?" he says quietly, in deference to the baby asleep in her lap.

Kate shrugs, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch. "I don't know. Do you normally do Christmas this. . .big?" she asks. And yet, her hesitance is already trembling before the clear vision of Christmas Future, the baby a year old, two, three - and how excited Dashiell will be, how he'll catch them all up in it again with bright talk about Santa and reindeer and little red cheeks in the cold.

Well, Castle, obviously, doesn't need a little one to be caught up. He's already there.

"It's normally. . .big," he answers. "Bigger." A wince as he meets her eyes.

She just shakes her head at him. "Then go for it."

He throws her a look and removes even more stuff from the storage bin. Stockings and ornaments she can handle; it's everything else that leaves her feeling a little overwhelmed. Garland and wreaths and candles and lifesized toy soldiers and nutcrackers and the Night Before Christmas and caroling and traditions and-

Oh, my.

"What is that?" she laughs. Because really, if she doesn't laugh, she'll cry.

"Ah, window lights. They're on this collapsible frame, so they fold out. And you plug it in. This one is a star. And I have a tree and Santa's face."

"Might keep him up," she says cautiously, her hand on the baby's belly.

"Yeah," he nods, glances down to his decorations. "Yeah, you're right."

He moves to put them away again, and she sighs. "No, Castle. Just - maybe we can put them on timers?"

"Yeah," he says, hopefulness creeping in. "I usually do. We can set it for just a few hours at night."

"O-okay," she answers. This is their first Christmas together. This is Dashiell's first Christmas, and Kate is lucky that Dash has a father who wants to make it special for their son. Even if he's only seven weeks old.

"Hey, he's awake," Castle says quietly.

She glances down to her lap where she's had Dashiell turned out to face the room, his head at her stomach, and she sees his eyes are open and intent, taking in the clutter around him, the tinsel and lights, and he hasn't made a sound.

She strokes her fingers over the top of his head, down his forehead, and he shifts, arms and legs moving in that happy bounce he has. She laughs and his eyes startle up to hers.

"Hey, baby. Watching Daddy go crazy for Christmas?"

But Castle's already abandoned his decorations and come to them on the floor; he puts his hand over hers on Dashiell's belly and leans in to rub noses with his son, his grin wide and deep as he hovers over them.

"Daddy does go a little crazy," he speaks softly. His eyes are on Dashiell, but she knows his words are for her. "But it's going to be so much fun now that we have you. You'll see. My favorite holiday - well, other than your birthday, of course."

And he's still talking in that quiet, happy voice to his son, still hovering over the baby and tickling him, hanging on to his fist, and Kate can't help reaching out and cupping the back of Castle's neck, bringing him up to her for a kiss. And his lips are so soft. So tender.

She misses him. His body and his touch and the flare of heat between them when he's looking only at her. She misses him pressing her against the door or coming up behind her at the bathroom sink, misses hard and fast and intense.

Castle kisses her, the slow slide of his tongue inside her mouth, and she's immediately breathless, wanting, but he backs off, retreats with a brush of his fingers over her cheek.

"Oh yeah," he rasps. "Christmas is going to be awesome."

It really might.

"Come here, Dash," he says, lifting the baby out of her lap and bringing the boy against his chest. "Let me tell you all about it."

Castle stands from the floor and heads into the Christmas maelstrom, his mouth close to Dashiell's ear, their eyes both looking at the tree half-decorated in the living room.

Kate watches him with their son, the way he looks back to her with a little smile to share the moment, and she clasps her arms around her knees, doesn't move. He's digging through the stockings and reading out the names to Dashiell.

"What do you think, Mommy?" he asks, holding up a stocking with her name in cursive thread at the top. Her name. Kate.

"I have a stocking?"

"Of course," he laughs.

She can't even say anything, just nods and rests her chin on her knees.

She's been telling herself she can always go home again, but that's ridiculous. Clearly ridiculous.

She's already home.

He's made it her home, time and again, since. . .forever. Since he met her, since her apartment blew up, since the moment she said she loved him.

She's got to start making it home for him too. All this time, she just assumed being in his family would be like putting on a hand-me-down sweater - the sleeves too long and tripping her fingers, and the collar horribly constricting around her throat, all of it too wide to be flattering - but it's not that at all.

It's something they create themselves, all of them, weaving together a new garment. Castle's been doing the work of reshaping his whole family into their family, while she's just been existing in it, reaping the benefits.

They're partners in this too.

She knows, now, that when he asks again, she's saying yes.

If he ever asks again.

"Hey, Kate," he calls out. "Come help me hang up all our stockings."

She bites her lip but stands up and goes to him.

end.

(for the answer to that question, read Everlasting Light)