42. Chapter 42

Ellery winds up crawling into Kate's arms for the last half of dinner. Clearly exhausted, she presses her face into her mother's chest and sighs. Kate abandons her food and rubs a hand up and down her daughter's back, her chin on top of Ella's head. The grilled fish was good enough, but she's not that hungry - she ate the rest of Ellery's ice cream this afternoon.

Dashiell has inhaled his chicken tenders; Castle is still getting through his meal rather slowly, talking with Austin and Graham about some video game. Dash keeps his eyes on them, following the conversation as best he can, interjecting his own opinions which his father seems to not only tolerate, but encourage. Vickie has turned most of her attention to Tate, leaving Kate alone with her daughter.

Ellery's eyes droop as she leans against her mother, her mouth open, and a little fist curls around the strap of Kate's tank top.

Castle glances over at them, as if to check where his family is, and then he goes back to talking about the game. Kate brushes a hand down the side of Ellery's face, pushes the hair back behind her ear, over and over, cradling the girl to her. Warm and sleepy on her lap, smelling like sunscreen and baby sweat and the applesauce from dinner.

Kate kisses Ellery's forehead, presses her lips to her baby's hair, breathes her in. After a few minutes, she lifts her head and reaches out to snag Rick's sleeve.

When he turns to look at her, she can see his eyes go from absorption with his conversation to a kind of soft regard, a shift that takes longer because he apparently is excited about this video game. Halo or Reach or something. Who knows.

"Kate?"

"We should go," she murmurs. "Soon."

He glances down to Dashiell still sitting between them, notes the boy's effort to keep his head up. "Yeah. You're right."

Kate drops out of the conversation again, leaning back in her chair, letting Castle handle everything. She's managed to apply her interrogation room techniques to his charity and social events, so she't not helpless when it comes to pleasantries, to keeping up appearances, but she's suddenly worn out. She doesn't want to have to deal with it. And Castle always can - Castle derives energy just from being around people.

He's closing out his conversation with Austin, and flagging down the waitress to get the check (she smiles into Ella's hair when Austin tries to fight him over it, but that's Castle's rule: he pays).

"No point in arguing with him," Kate says, lifting her head when it seems to go on. "I've learned he always gets his way. About the money at least."

Vickie laughs at that, reaching across the boys to snag her husband's hand, a way of stilling his next protest. Austin sighs and relinquishes the fight.

Castle is, of course, so very proud of himself for being able to take care of it. He likes that, Kate realizes suddenly. As if this is a new thing, a revelation. But it kind of is. Castle likes taking care of the people who mean something to him. When he first started tagging along with her, she assumed the espresso machine and all the little things were ways of getting into her bed.

(Well, they worked.) But they weren't throw away gifts; it wasn't flashing money to awe or impress her. It's his way of caring for her, of showing Vickie and Austin that this time has meant something to him. How has she never really understood that before?

Maybe some part of her has understood. When he presented her with two pairs of expensive sunglasses last summer, when he took her to Bloomingdale's a couple months ago, when he surprised her with a new dishwasher (it doesn't sound romantic, but oh, it was. She's the one who ends up doing the dishes, since he cooks most of the time, and the old one was a pain in the ass.) All these little things she's graciously accepted from him - all part of it. So maybe she does understand.

They both end up having to carry a sleepy child out of the restaurant, but Dashiell perks up when they get outside under the stars and away from the people. They say good-bye to Vickie and Austin, and they load the kids into the back. Ellery is already asleep and too heavy for Kate to feel comfortable lifting her up into the seat, so she waits until Castle has Dash strapped in and can help.

When she passes the little girl over to him, the brief contact of the three of their bodies, warm in the darkness, clenches at Kate's heart. She has a hard time letting go, and for an instant, a fierce clutch of need rises in her.

And then it subsumes, and Kate is left standing beside the car, staring at Rick's back as he carefully works the safety restraints around Ella's arms.

When he turns back around and shuts the car door, he gives her a look, questioning.

No. But. . . "Do you really want a third?" she murmurs, not sure if she should even bring it up. "A fourth? I mean, at this point, it's four, isn't it?"

"Counting Alexis-"

"She always counts."

He chuckles and drops his hands to her shoulders, pulls her in for a hug. "Do you?"

"I'm asking you."

"You brought it up-"

"No, Castle, you brought it up. Joking about it like it's bound to happen."

"I was only really trying to mess with Dash. If anything, I figured we'd get the kids a dog or something."

A little something silly cracks in her heart and Kate forces herself to laugh with him, but she's breathless, and he can tell. He can always tell.

"But, Kate. Say the word, and I'm there."

"Vickie says three is harder than two, and not just harder by one more. Everything is different."

"She also has a kid with autism, but yeah. I can see that being true."

"I don't want to feel outnumbered. And Alexis already helps us so much, but she'll have a family of her own-"

"Well, that's a surefire way of killing the mood. Thanks, babe. Now I'm not only inundated with horrifying images of my daughter having kids, but I'm also feeling way too old for this."

Kate laughs at him, recognizes exactly what he's done by joking at his own expense (saved her; he's saved her), and she lifts on her toes and presses her open mouth to his, trapping whatever else he might have wanted to say.

His fingers slide under her tanktop and settle on her waist, his body leaning over to meet hers. She can rock back on her heels and take her time, brush her hands over his chest and trail up to his neck, thumbs at the skin in front of his ears, fingers in his hair.

When he parts from her, it's not for long, just a fraction of space before he's nuzzling his mouth against her jaw, her cheek, sighing as he breathes her in. She stills, lets him have the moment, enjoying it herself, before she drops her hands from him and steps back.

"Speaking of Alexis-"

"Oh yeah. She got in touch with you."

"She did." Kate slides a hand into his back pocket, wriggling an eyebrow at him, and takes out his keys. She wants to get in the flirting while she can, before she brings up Alexis's new boyfriend. Whom she lives with. "I'm driving."

Castle takes a long look at her, reading entirely too much in her every move. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Well." Kate shrugs, tries not to grin to widely at him. "Let me tell you a story first. Then we'll see how it goes."

Castle slumps in his seat and waits for Kate to get herself situated. She adjusts the mirrors and seat and fiddles with the radio, leaving it on some soft Americana station that croons Josh Ritter. He glances back at the kids and they're both asleep; Dash has slumped so far over that he's bound to wake with a crick in his neck.

Kate pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main highway, then reaches across the SUV to fumble for his hand. Castle shakes his head but takes her hand, squeezing it. Waiting on her.

"So here's a story," she starts, her voice low. He'd be looking forward to this - it's not often Kate tells him stories (usually when she does, they're naughty and whispered in his ear) - but he has a feeling she's buttering him up for some news he won't like.

"Once upon a time," she murmurs.

He laughs, releases her hand when she tugs on it, watches her change lanes to get around a slower moving car. She puts her elbow on the armrest and dangles her hand in the space between them, her fingers wriggling for his.

Castle appeases her, slides his hand in hers so that they're joined over the center console, fingers lacing together.

"There was this boy - this man - who fell in love with a girl."

Okay, he seriously has no idea where she's going with this. Sometimes her dirty stories *do* start out like this.

"The girl didn't see it. She thought they were friends. Good friends. But just. . .friends."

Is this about them?

"The boy was patient. He teased her to hide how he felt, but he was always there. Waiting. The girl dated other boys, looking for something she couldn't seem to find."

It *is* about them.

"And then one day, she's restless with her boyfriend (who never pays enough attention to her), and she turns around and - and there he is."

Castle squeezes her hand, kisses it, watches her beautiful face in the moonlight, the headlights of the cars limning her cheekbones golden and glorious, her eyes sparks of stars in the nightsky of her irises.

"There he is. And she realizes her best friend is in love with her."

Huh. Had she known that? Even then? He thinks she didn't want to know it. So-

"Alexis is in love with her best friend."

"What?"

"Rafe. Rafe and Alexis are-"

"What?" He knows he's practically crushing her hand, but his surprise, his astonishment makes it impossible to ease up. "Alexis is - Rafe lives with her. What happened to Mike?"

"Rafe lives in the apartment with her, Castle." He can hear in her voice what she doesn't say: Calm down; she's 23 years old. "He's in love with her. Couldn't you see it the last time we went?"

He slows his breathing, focuses on the way her hand feels in his, ignores the pulse of knee-jerk suspicion and malevolence now directed at Rafael Torres. Rafe, the chef who made them all dinner one night, fancy sure, but even the kids wanted to eat it. Rafe, the one who kept looking at Alexis like-

"Like I look at you," he grumbles, admitting the truth.

"Like you-?" She glances at him quickly, then puts her eyes back on the road. "He looks at her like that. Yes. Yes he does."

"Damn," he murmurs. "This is it, then."

"Well. It's not it. I mean, something could happen-"

"She loves him back?"

"I guess. She didn't exactly get into it. But Castle, she sounded happy on the phone. She hasn't sounded. . .carefree in a long time you know."

"What about her friend Alisha? I thought she was living with them?"

"No, no she never was," Kate says, then sighs. "I think. . .I think maybe we let you believe that. I'm sorry. I knew it had ended up this way. Just the two of them. But I'd seen his face, Rick. The way he looked at her. Like you said. And how could I be worried-?"

"You should've told me," he sighs. Same old Kate. Same old argument. When does it stop hurting so much? The fact that she plans things out behind his back, that she works so hard to protect him when all he needs is for her to include him on things, let him in?

She's silent beside him. He knows it's because he sounds weary, and he is. He's weary of these same stupid obstacles. Why does she keep doing it? If he'd been told that Alexis was moving in with Rafe, that plans with all the other girls had fallen apart, how could it have been so bad?

"You're. . .mad at me," she says slowly.

"Not even mad anymore," he sighs, tracing the edge of the window with his finger. "It's gone past being mad at you, Kate. It's just. . .resignation."

She's frowning into the windshield when he finally turns to look at her.

"It wasn't intentional this time. At some point, I realized that you still thought Alisha lived with her, and I knew I had to say something but there wasn't a good time and then - then I forgot. I - we had other things and I just. . .it slipped my mind."

"Yeah," he murmurs. And he does believe her. It's just. . .like it always is. That suddenly feels so damn depressing. Nothing changes. It's just-

Well, no. That's not at all true, is it? Things do change. They both have changed. Kate's not the same Detective Beckett he followed around like an immature (but charming) asshole. She's not the same woman who told him, when she came back from that first doctor's appointment, that she wasn't sure she could do this.

But she could do this, she does it every day. They do this together.

He sits up, clenches her hand tighter. "Yeah. Okay." She said it earlier - his daughter is old enough to have a family of her own. Soon. Not now, please God, but soon.

"Rick."

"I'm good. I'm. . .in shock. But I'm getting there."

She shoots him another inquisitive look, but he can smile at her now; he brings her hand to his lips and kisses it, thankful for her. For all of it.

"I'm not mad at you," he says. "I hate things going on without me. Without knowing. Everything getting planned and talked about and settled before I even have a chance."

"Nothing's settled or planned, Rick. It's just something that happened. You know what that's like."

"I. . .I do."

"You're going to be nice to him, aren't you?"

"Nice to him?" He senses another thread here. A story she hasn't told.

"Oh. Yes. He's coming down with her. Here. Rafe is flying-"

"He's butting in on our vacation?"

She darts a look his way, eyes narrowed. "Castle."

"Give me a minute," he growls back, shutting his eyes. Rafe is horning in on their vacation. No. No, give it a chance. Rafe is. . .escorting her home to her family. See? All in the word choice.

"You be nice, Richard Castle," Kate says suddenly. "Remember my story? Who did you think I was talking about?"

"Us. But you weren't. You were talking about-"

"Them. Think of him as your younger, handsomer self."

"Handsomer? You are just all about the mortal wounds tonight."

"You deserve it. Rafe is you. What you were. In love with a woman you thought would never see you."

"Shit, you're killing me, Kate."

"Good," she says with relish. "Because I saw you, Castle. And now, so has Alexis. Don't make it harder on them because it's already so difficult."

It is. He knows that too. Being so in love with someone who loves you like a friend but isn't sure how else, where else, what else, and then-

"I'm glad you saw me," he says finally. "And I'll do my best, Kate, but I can't promise-"

"Promise for us. For where we used to be. Do it for us."

He swallows hard, pushes his head against the seat, thinks of that beautiful, smart, unapproachable Beckett. And now his beautiful, smart, entirely approachable Kate.

"Okay," he says finally. "I will."