14. Fourteen: Saturday

Fourteen

The Avengers is her idea; she needs a break from the heavy emotional stuff, so she asks for a pause in their walking tour of New York. When he asks What're we gonna do now? with that salacious look on his face, she has to think fast.

Not that she doesn't want to do...salacious, she just wants to be able to walk without wincing for a day or so. Or a few hours at least.

"Hey, I didn't see the Hulk movie," she says as they walk hand in hand towards the theatre. "Is that going to matter?"

"Naw. Those were both terrible movies. As far as the comic-world goes. Edward Norton - yeah, interesting to see a really good actor as the geeky Banner scientist, but-"

She grins at his own geeky knowledge, squeezes his hand. "Thor was pretty terrible too."

He groans. "Seriously? Beckett. That movie was fantastic. I'm gonna have to disagree with you on that one. And I'll also say, categorically, you are entirely not correct."

"Categorically?" she muses, raising an eyebrow at him. "All right then."

"I would've thought you'd be all into that one. I mean, what about the hunky blonde with the huge biceps?"

"I have a hunky - oh, you're not really blonde, are you? Hmm. Still, biceps...mmm, yes you do."

He stumbles to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, shooting her a hot, and yeah, salacious, look that makes her step into him and brand his lips with her mouth.

He's panting when she pulls back; she has to tug on his hand to get him moving.

It comes out of nowhere, insidious as only it can be.

She's loving The Avengers - Joss Whedon's humor and story-telling always make for a great movie, and she's sucked right into it.

It's not even really a plot point or an action sequence that does her in.

It's just one moment in the destruction of New York City onscreen - the demolished buildings, the explosions, and the running people - like a modern day, terrible King Kong. And her heart is beating fast, her knees drawn up to her chest, feet in the seat, when one small thing - one tiny thing - makes her unravel.

A little family - mom, dad, two kids - running away even as terror rains down around them.

The mom and dad are shoving the two kids ahead of them, trying to push them to safety, but it's impossible. There's no place safe. And the camera has already cut away before she can even seen their demise, the transition back to the battle, but her mind can't let go of that little family.

She can't breathe.

It makes no sense; there's no logic to it.

Her hands are sweating; she sees nothing on the screen any longer. It's a confusing blur that makes her head swim, her stomach churn.

She rocks in the seat, pressing her forehead to her knees, trying to take deep breaths, close her eyes and her ears to the noise.

What happens to the kids? What happens when destruction rains down on them and it's all they can do to just stay ahead of it, and what if they fail? She can barely keep herself moving forward, let alone kids - and he - what can he - if there are kids in the picture, then he's got to look after them and she depends so much on him and she can't do that. She can't do that.

It can't always be her leaning on him. She can't go down that rabbit hole either.

Her throat is closing up; she can't suck in a breath past the thrashing of her heart. She lifts her head and presses the heels of her hands - hard - into her eye sockets.

She needs air. She needs away. She has to get away.

Beckett drops her feet to the floor, sees him swivel his head towards her at the noise.

She makes a fist, tightly, until her fingernails dig into her skin; the pinprick of pain sharpens her for just a moment, clears her throat.

A moment is all she needs.

"Bathroom," she mumbles, and jerks to her feet to shuffle down the row.

Damn long bathroom break.

Castle has seen this movie before, but he still hesitates to get up and leave. He wants to go look for her, but he's not sure she'd appreciate that if she really is just - he doesn't even know. Just what? Taking a long bathroom break? Wardrobe malfunction?

Yesterday he made her cry and today he just wants to make her smile. And tapping on the bathroom door, calling out her name, would definitely not make her smile.

He fidgets in his seat, rubbing his thumb over his knee, and debates pulling out his phone to text her. It's so rude though. Castle's the one who is usually making the snide remarks about people on their phones, and he's - he can't do that.

Jeez, the fight scenes are cool. So cool. The Hulk is like - insane. This is just-

A couple days ago, Kate said she thought she was being followed by zombies.

His heart pounds; he rubs his hand over his jaw and tries not to overreact. Zombies do not exist. He did have a moment once, where he really enjoyed getting caught up in the possibility of zombies, but no. No. She is not being followed by zombies.

She is a smart woman though. Tasty brains.

Castle jerks out of his seat, heads down the row, trying to duck a little, keep from ruining the movie for the other patrons. He takes the steps in long strides, then goes back up the ramp towards the doors.

He blinks in the sunlight spilling in from the windows opposite their theatre, then looks around him to get his bearings.

And there's Kate. Sitting on a padded bench, cross-legged, her hands palm up on her knees, her eyes closed.

Serene.

Release meditation. He's not seen her meditate before, but he knows what it looks like. She's letting go of something, releasing it to the universe.

What happened to her?

Castle waits a moment, standing still in the middle of the lobby, watching her breathe slowly in and out, her lashes settled on her cheeks, her mouth closed and her cheekbones sharp. She's pulled her hair back in a bun, a little severe but starkly gorgeous.

Her eyes open. "Castle," she says quietly and turns her head.

He walks towards her, watching her for a sign, but she's completely still, like a reflecting pool. He sits down beside her.

"What happened?" he says, keeping his voice low. He reaches out, his hand hovering over hers on her knee, and then he closes his fingers around hers.

She lets out a long breath. "I had a panic attack."

He waits, not sure how to respond to that, what's acceptable, what she's okay hearing from him.

"I called Dr Burke's office. I've got an appointment for Monday."

"Not today?" he asks, blurting it out before he can think it through. Damn it.

"I'm okay," she says, then gives a soft chuckle and leans in to kiss his cheek. "I'm very okay. Just a little off-balance, I think."

"You were meditating?"

She nods against his skin, then leans her head against his shoulder. He's so astonished by the move that he doesn't know what to do for a second - wrap his arms around her, brush the little tendril of hair off her face, kiss the top of her head?

He does all three then, because he's no good at making a decision about what not to do when it comes to her. She threads her arm through his and then laces their fingers together.

"What triggered the panic attack?" he asks.

"Something in the movie."

"The cops at the scene?"

She shakes her head. "The two kids. With their parents."

He searches his mind but he honestly doesn't have any clue what she's talking about. He doesn't remember any kids in the movie at all.

"They were onscreen for maybe three seconds. Running away from one of those things."

"Oh." Still nothing on his end. Why that random scene?

"I keep making promises to you, Castle, that I can't even - that I want to keep, but I find myself - out in the lobby trying to breathe instead."

He wants to look at her face, her eyes, but she's got her head against his shoulder. It seems to be easier on her to say what she needs to say like this.

"Don't make me promises then. Just-"

She raises their laced fingers to his mouth, silences him. "That's not fair to you. Or to me either. I'll see Dr Burke on Monday and hash it out, figure out what I'm doing wrong."

"Oh, Kate, you're not doing anything wrong." He reaches across his body to cup the side of her face, kiss her forehead, the angle of her cheek.

She smiles against his mouth, kisses him back softly, then says, "I don't mean this. I mean in my head. What I'm doing wrong in my head, Castle."

He sighs, relief and resignation both. He wishes it would all be better magically, that love could truly conquer all. But neither of them are that kind of person. He doesn't want her so dependent on him that she needs him for her own mental health. Not good. No relationship could survive that.

"Care to hash it out with me now?" he says suddenly, stroking his thumb under her cheek.

"Mm, not-" She pauses, knits her eyebrows together. "I guess I can do that. I probably should do that."

"Since you are missing the best part of the movie," he says, smiling down at her.

She shifts on the bench and straightens up. "It was the family. The two kids, the parents. Just the four of them out sight-seeing or on their way to school or something. Who knows why they were there? But there was no way to save those kids. Hopeless."

He watches her, confused by her train of thought. He expected bullets, gunshot wounds, an unconquerable enemy. Instead it's a family?

"How do you save your kids, Castle? How do you keep them ahead of the monster?"

Oh. Oh, shit. This is - slightly out of his depth. He maybe should've let Dr Burke deal with this? He's gonna say the wrong thing. He just opens his mouth and stuff comes out and he has no idea what to say to this.

"You've kept Alexis out of it. How did you do that? My - my kids'll have me, and I've just got all this darkness, and I don't see how-"

He squeezes her roughly, fights to clear his throat and speak before she continues that. "Not true. Not at all true. Stop thinking like that."

She's quiet, but he can sense that she disagrees with him. She's sitting up beside him, still not looking at him though.

And so he's going to open his mouth and say it, he is, he couldn't stop himself if he wanted to.

"Your kids-" Shit, he can't stop himself. "Our kids - they have me too; they have both of us, Kate, and when one of us stumbles, the other picks up and keeps going. Between the two of us, they'll never know darkness. The monsters will never get them."

She's rigid and sitting apart from him; he takes the risk of looking at her and finds that her face is transformed, her eyes filled with something he, unfortunately, now knows is the beginning of tears.

"Kate. Say something."

She turns her head and stares at him, but he doesn't exactly see fear there. Anxiety, sure, but not fear.

"Promise?" she says, her breath hitching on the word.

He wants to say Always but she needs more than that, needs so much more than that tired word that's slowly beginning to lose its meaning every time one of them says it off-handedly.

He reaches out and cradles her head in his hands, brings his forehead to hers, tries to seep the knowledge and certainty into her through osmosis, his skin to hers.

"I promise," he says, strength making his voice harsh. "I promise." Even if we never-

She wraps her arms around him, and it seems to be enough.