Stand Guard

And though I can't guarantee there's nothing scary hiding under your bed,
I'm gonna stand guard like a postcard of a Golden Retriever.
-Paul Simon, "Father and Daughter"

Kate finds herself straightening an invisible crease in her pant leg and has to make a conscious effort to quell the movement. She settles back against the table top in the conference room and reaches up instead to brush the hair behind her ear.

"Exactly," she agrees, giving his daughter a half-smile. "I'm glad it worked out."

"And I want to - thank you," Alexis continues, the stutter in her sentence barely noticeable. "For helping. You and Dr. Parish both. You didn't have to."

"I'm pretty sure she told you to call her Lanie," Kate smiles. It's a subtle reminder that Alexis ought to be using first names. "And it wasn't a problem. Really."

When a woman gets a slightly panicked phone call from her fiance in which he confesses he's not sure he can do it, that he's lost his daughter forever if he can't come through, pulling a few strings and doing some extra casework on top of her already weighty load really does become rather minor.

"I appreciate it," Alexis finishes. She's got her chin up even though her cheeks are pink, and Kate realizes they both know that Kate knows everything that's happened between the girl and her father.

How mortifying, Kate thinks. And then she remembers that's the point of family - or practically family - and Lanie's advice to create their own history is happening right now. This is the moment.

Kate gestures to the bullpen just outside the door, can faintly sense Castle talking with Espo somewhere out there. "Alexis, you know you can come to me for this kind of thing, no matter what's going on with your dad. That doesn't affect my willingness to help you when you need it."

Alexis gives a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders. "Thanks for saying that. I just, you know, there have been others in and out of his life - including my own mother - and I never made it a habit of depending on them. That way I was never really affected by what happened between him and... whoever."

Kate presses her lips flat and counts a breath before answering. "Well," she says slowly. "I meant between you and your father. But. Fine. I'm saying that too. No matter what happens between Castle and I - yes. You can come to me."

Alexis doesn't look like she believes it. Others in and out of his life. Right, she reminds herself, this is where Alexis is coming from.

"I know other people might not have been able to make you that guarantee," Kate says. "But I can. I have the faith that no matter what happens, you can come to me. Because I believe that's what a marriage is - making those promises no matter what happens."

Alexis opens her mouth as if to say two previous marriages never made that promise. But she closes it, doesn't say it, even as it hangs between them.

Kate lets out a slow breath and chooses to address that as well. "I wouldn't have told your dad yes if I couldn't make that promise," she says certainly. "Not just to him, but to you and your grandmother. To everything it entails."

Alexis's eyes won't meet hers; her gaze drifts off somewhere past the windows.

"That's the silver lining to making him wait so long," Kate gives, her breath a little thin in her lungs.

Alexis's gaze snaps back to hers. "Making him wait."

"Doing the work of... it's work," Kate finishes lamely. "And at least we both know how to work at it now."

His daughter's mouth drops open.

She must have hit it exactly, whatever hangup Alexis still has about her, because the girl looks floored. And embarrassed, probably for whatever nasty thoughts were circling in her head about her father's relationship.

That's fine, Kate thinks. That's fine if Alexis doesn't trust it, so long as Castle does. So long as Castle trusts it, that's all that matters.

"I... thank you for that promise," Alexis says quietly. She does look embarrassed, with a faint shimmer of shame at the back of her eyes, and the girl brushes a hand across her cheek as if skimming away a hair.

Kate is the adult here, and so she stands and leans in, offering her arms. Alexis replies to the gesture automatically, but their embrace is warm, a squeeze of gratitude in it, and Kate lets out a breath of relief.

"And thank you for telling me," Alexis adds.

"Maybe this was something I should have said before," Kate admits. When she pulls away, the flush has dropped from his daughter's face. She lets go of Alexis's arms, skimming hands, and steps back.

"No, I'm... not sure I would have heard it," Alexis admits, a duck of her head.

Kate catches something at the corner of her eye and realizes Castle is haunting the window, watching, and it takes everything in her not to look directly at him. She can't. Not right this second.

"And Lanie too," Kate says, steering them into safer waters. "All of us are a little family, even if Espo and Lanie are - whatever it is they are, even when the boys are in a lovers' spat."

Alexis's grin cracks through and she laughs. "Yeah."

"Doesn't matter - we're here. Got it?"

"I got it." Alexis nods a little more enthusiastically and the air between them is easier. Kate shifts her gaze to Rick now, lifts her fingers at him in a wordless gesture of welcome. Castle opens the doors and slides right inside.

"Alexis, Kate," he says. If his voice is too warm, too happy, Kate doesn't think Alexis notices. "Did you talk with your professor?"

"I did," Alexis says. Her body shifts to include her father, and Kate finds herself easing back to the tabletop as if to step away, give them space. It's usually unconscious, but the reason she notices herself doing it today is because Alexis doesn't box her out.

She used to. That's the truth of it. When her father was in the room, Alexis oriented towards him and closed Kate out. But she's not doing that now.

So Kate stands up, takes that step back into the circle.

Alexis, still talking, pauses to turn her face to Kate and gives her a flicker of a smile. Castle's hand reaches out and takes hers, and for some reason, their fingers lace.

And then the conversation all goes on like nothing happened.

But something has.