10. Ten: Tuesday

Ten

"But it's four o'clock in the afternoon," he whines. Sure, it's rather half-hearted because she's stripping off her clothes in front of him as she heads towards the bedroom. Still.

He puts his laptop back down on his desk and follows her.

"I need to run," she says in reply, her voice muffled by her shirt as she pulls it off over her head.

Oh, no bra. Lovely.

"But it's hot outside."

She turns around and he stumbles, staring, can't help himself, and she hums something and goes back to the closet. He watches her pull out a sports bra and then wrestle it on.

"I want to sweat," she says finally. "So four o'clock is great."

"I could-"

"Castle," she says evenly, and he drops it. This right here is probably why she resisted him so long. Not the wall. Wall? No way, his whining is probably a higher and denser barrier than her wall. How can she stand him sometimes?

But then she comes over to him in just her sports bra and panties and lifts on her toes to brush her mouth softly against his. He settles his hands to her hips and she stays there.

"What was that for?"

"Shutting up," she says with a grin. "I need to run. And sweat. And it's not running away and it's not that the way you make me sweat isn't also equally pleasurable-"

"Equally pleasurable to running? You are insane. It's far more pleasurable than running," he insists.

She laughs at that, sliding her hands down his chest and stepping back. "I stand corrected. Far superior to running."

"Thank you. I try."

"Still gonna run."

He sighs again, but he does like watching her shimmy into tiny black running shorts, a white flare of detail on the sides, her legs infinite and gorgeous. She tugs a running shirt over her head and scoops back her hair, pulling it into a pony tail with the rubber band from around her wrist. Her cheekbones are vivid slashes against the pale of her face, and yeah, he can see she needs to get out.

And get more sleep. Both his fault.

She's already snaked on socks, and then she's got her shoes laced, and she's standing up and facing him.

Ready to run.

"Oh!" He jerks to his feet, stunned and happy. "I - I have something for you."

She rolls her eyes. "Jeez, Castle, maybe when I get back. In the shower."

He laughs, even more delighted by her unwitting promise, and shakes his head. "No, for the run. Wait. Come with me." He reaches out and grabs her by the hand, tugs her after him towards his study.

He unplugs his phone from the power cord to the laptop, then unlocks his screen, searching the desk for his earbuds. He's got an armband in the bottom drawer that he fishes out as his phone's main screen lights up. It's been sluggish to wake lately.

"Castle, I don't-"

"No, you do. Believe me. This is awesome." He thumbs through his apps until he finds it, taps it on.

"I don't usually run with music," she says.

"This is not just music, Kate Beckett. This is zombies."

She stares at him a moment, a little bewildered. "Haven't we had enough of zombies?"

His face just absolutely lights up. "No. Never. Oh Kate, oh, you are going to love this." He starts messing with the app on his phone. "It's called Zombies, Run! and it gives you these missions you do as you run and it tells you what's up ahead-"

"Castle," she says, stepping back from him.

"No. Come on. I promise. It's so great. It's so great."

"Are you telling me you went running?" she says.

"Uh. I - I kinda did?" He glances up at her, but he's pushing the earphones into the jack, sliding his phone into the armband holder. He's going to make her do this. "I mean. It makes you actually want to run. Let me tell you the story, okay?"

She'll just humor him for now. She'll take his stupid phone and zombie app and she'll just, she'll play a few seconds of it to appease him, then take off on her own. Do her own thing.

"Kate?"

"Fine. Tell me the story."

"Okay, so I've done the first mission already, so you can start on the second one. You are a human survivor called Runner Five. But you're from outside the city's walls, and the city doesn't exactly trust you. You escaped zombie hordes to arrive at their town, and you came bearing supplies, so they took you in."

She sighs and glances down at the phone as he pushes it into her hands. She can't help listening to the story despite herself. It's just his unbridled enthusiasm. It's catching like a disease.

"So now they send you out to raid the countryside for supplies that the town needs. Earn your keep. But you have to stay ahead of the zombies."

She lifts her gaze to him, about to tell him, really, no, Castle, but his eyes are so bright with it and his body thrumming with energy and she's about to go out into the world without him, alone, and he hasn't even acted all protective and overbearing about it, and she wants to reward him for it. For treating her like an adult, like the capable person she is, and also-

Also, he likes to share with her. And now her heart is all tender towards him and so she smiles, lifts her hand to his cheek to guide her mouth to his, a soft kiss.

"Okay, Castle. Let me run away from your shuffling undead."

She doesn't start his app immediately. She takes her time threading her way through rush hour foot traffic to get to Central Park, feeling like the pedestrians are zombies enough for right now.

Once on a jogging path with the trees shading her, and the slight wind that picks up, she does go ahead and put the earbuds in, but she doesn't start it up. She sets a light pace, mindful of her battered body and her slow rehab ever since getting shot last year. She hasn't run in a few weeks, so it's going to hurt.

The pound of her feet against the pavement, the measured breaths as she counts them in and out, and the flare of sunlight on her shoulders as she runs through the trees all gives her a sweeping clarity. She is thirty-two years old and she's beginning to understand herself, figure things out, and it's really not too late.

It's not too late.

Her run takes her past the pond, Belvedere Castle just in sight through the brilliant green. How strange to see that tourist attraction in light of Nikki Heat rather than just herself, her own experiences.

She wonders what other places have been colored by him - which monuments or street corners, which bars or museums have included his voice. Maybe he roamed Central Park as a teenager - he probably has some great stories. And she's not a cop anymore; she can hear them all now, not have to arrest him. Though he'd like that.

They could always pretend. She did promise cuffs.

Kate hums to herself and narrows her eyes back to the path, goes ahead and starts the zombie mission to clear those kinds of thoughts out of her head.

Castle's app plays through the end of a song she doesn't recognize and then a radio operator's British voice cuts through, strangely loud and immediate. He warns her that there's a need for first aid kits and batteries in town, and if she doesn't come back with those supplies, then it's possible the General doesn't open the gates back up.

Shit, these people are ruthless.

Kate chuckles as she listens to the mission details, finds herself cutting her eyes ahead when the operator tells her there's a clump of trees just west of the perimeter fence. As if she could actually see those trees.

She's in Central Park, so, okay, right, there are trees, but this is ridiculous.

Kate tunes out a little, watches her steps and the path ahead, the people enjoying their afternoon. When she breaks free of the trees, the sun is intense, heating her legs, her chest, flaring along her cheeks. She wipes sweat from the back of her neck onto her shorts, then has to swipe at her forehead to keep it from dripping into her eyes.

This is what she needed. Just pour it all out. Everything. All of it gone.

She's got a fast pace now, suddenly hears the computer's voice tell her she's collected a pair of underwear and a baseball bat, laughs out loud this time. Then the radar picks up a group of slow-moving zombies, approaching from the east and she finds herself gathering speed.

Stupid, Beckett. Just a game.

She slows again, mentally rolling her eyes, and resumes her pace. She has to make sure she doesn't overdo it, not after the past week, the fight for her life on the rooftop, the fight for her life in his apartment as well. She likes that fight much better.

Suddenly there's a snarling, moaning, shuffling mess in her ears and her heart kicks up, her legs automatically sprinting ahead in a burst of adrenaline that has her sucking down air and her hands shaking, halfway to a panic attack.

Zombies.

Shit, zombies.

She presses her hand to her chest, the mad and crazy beat of her heart making her breathless, and she has to stop. She has to. She can barely hold it together; she's halfway between sobbing and laughing, and neither one is really a good idea when she has to keep breathing.

She sounds insane.

Kate stumbles off the path, leans over with her hands on her knees, tries to open up her lungs again, mentally picturing her bronchial tubes opening, her throat clear. In her ear, the radio operator for the town is telling her to put on a burst of speed before the zombies catch up. Just run.

And actually, that clear, distinctive voice is what she needs. It's good advice. This is what she came out here for, what she fended off Castle for, the chance to just run.

It's a stupid game, a story; it's not real and there is no threat, and yet-

This can be fun. If she lets it.

Kate sucks in another long breath and stands up, hands curling into fists.

There are three zombies right behind you. Can you hear them? They're coming. Run. Just run.

So she does.

Castle is in the living room with his laptop, the late afternoon light spilling around him as he writes, when the door pops open with a bang and Kate tumbles inside.

He stares at her.

Childishness has spread across her face; she's still bouncing on her toes a little, as if she could dash off for another six miles, as if she's eager for it. She's got the earbuds in, her fingers curled around his phone, and her eyes have that half-absorbed, listening look.

The sweat glistens along her neck, paints her chest, makes her shirt cling to her body. He saves his work, shuts the laptop, and gets up to join her in the entryway.

She yanks the earbuds out of her ears and thumbs off the zombies. "Castle," she breathes out, delight in her eyes.

He reaches out and traces the line of her shoulder, across the ridge of her sports bra, down her arm. "You had fun?"

"Oh, I love it. This is awesome. I was chased by zombies three times, but I escaped and I picked up medical supplies and underwear - I mean, underwear, really? - and then, look, see here's the stuff I got. What do I do with it now?"

He leans in close to share the screen with her, looking at the log for her run. "Actually, it says you escaped only two zombie hordes. The last one got you."

"No," she gasps, crowding closer, the sweaty heat of her pressed at his side. "No, I escaped. Oh no. No, oh, I lost all this great stuff because of that damn zombie. I can't believe he got me."

He laughs and slides his hand to her neck, slick with sweat, buries his fingers in her hair.

"Ew, gross, Castle. Really?" she says, shrugging her shoulders and ducking away from him. "Tell me what I do now. I mean, do I have to take the supplies somewhere?"

"No. It's the end of the mission, you got zombied."

"I did not," she growls at him. "I didn't even hear it. Well, I heard zombies at the end, but I swear I was running. This stinks."

He grins at her. "Uh-huh."

She shakes him off and hands him back his phone with a scowl.

"You know you like it," he murmurs, darting in quickly to kiss the fierce line of her mouth. "I told you it was awesome."

She hums against him, a little acceptance and a little bit of antagonism both, then curls her hand at his neck.

"Oh," she says softly. "I thought of something."

"Me too. You mentioned a shower-"

"Before that," she laughs. "While I was running, I had an idea."

"I am not running with you. No way, Kate. I hate it. You'd hate me if I ran with you. I'd be pouting and whiny and I'm already bad enough-"

She laughs again, harder, her hand squeezing at his neck. "No, no. That's not my idea. Don't worry. Running is a solo sport, Castle."

He sighs in relief and she steps away, hooking her hand in his waistband to tug him with her. He lifts an eyebrow, smiling. "Where we going?"

"Walk and talk," she says with a grin. "I gotta shower. But here's my idea. As I was running, it struck me that you and I have very different versions of the same city."

"Of New York? We do?"

"Take Central Park," she says, walking backwards down the hall, then flipping around as she gets to his bedroom doorway, pulls him through. She lets go and tugs her shirt off. "Childhood memories of its playgrounds; hanging out with friends as a teen in all the cool, covert places. Then there's stuff from Vice where I worked drug busts and prostitution. Then, of course, I've got a bunch of murder cases-"

"Some of those with me," he murmurs, grinning at her. "Like the duel."

"Black silk boxers," she says with a laugh.

"Still haven't told me what you-"

"You should know by now, Castle," she says, sliding out of her shorts with a wriggle, letting him see the bikini briefs she's wearing. Black stripes.

"Different kind almost every day," he says huskily, reaching out to hook a finger in the material.

"I could go commando for a while, if it helps," she says, eyes hot on him.

He grins wolfishly at her. "Sounds like a plan."

"Oh, a plan," she says, twisting away from him. So not cool, Beckett. "My plan. Listen. I know you've got ideas about whisking me away, and that's okay with me. Later. But first I want to settle in here, Castle. I want to get my feet under me. Not just us, but - like this."

He stops, hands stilling at her hips, watches her for a sign, but she seems sure. She looks . . .content. Happy.

"So Castle, my idea? I want to show you New York. I want to show you my city. And then I want to see yours." She reaches out and laces her fingers with his, her eyes bright and full as she searches him out.

"That's - amazing," he murmurs.

"We'll take it back and forth. Like a walking tour of the city."

He cups her cheek and leans in, brushes his mouth so softly against her lips, can't help thinking how good she feels, how right it is, finally, to have her here, have her wanting to share her life with him, thread their lives together like this.

She pulls back, curls her fingers at his neck, an impish grin sliding across her face. "You show me yours; I'll show you mine."