1,220Okay, so I made a complete mess of this prompt on Twitter a few weeks ago by combining two separate episodes into one, which led to me writing two different versions. The other version is posted in the M-rated 'With a Twist' story; this is the original version of the prompt.
Picks up at the end of 4x21.
#23: What if… instead of trial preparation, Kate has to investigate the time traveler case (6x05) in Headhunters (4x21)?
Prompt by an anon on tumblr
"Hey, thanks very much for your help."
"No problem, Castle. It's what partners are supposed to do."
"Hey, it's your husband!"
Kate whirls around, startled – not for the first time in the past couple days – by Simon Doyle's sudden appearance. She's never going to be convinced that he's from the future, but he does seem to possess some serious stealth skills. "My… who?"
Doyle gestures to Castle, who is still doubled over in agony from Slaughter's assault but is regarding them both curiously. "Your husband."
"I'm not married, and he's certainly not…"
"Well sure, you're not yet," Doyle interrupts, the words spilling out in his usual rapid-fire cadence. "But you will be."
"I'm sorry, did you say husband?" Castle rights himself with a grimace, clearly torn between pain and intrigue. He turns to Kate. "Who is this guy?"
"I've been trying to help with her case, but she won't believe anything I say and…"
"Because he claims he's from the future," she interrupts.
"I'm not claiming to be from the future, I am from the future," Doyle clarifies.
"When?"
"2035."
"That is so cool."
"Castle, please don't encourage him."
Doyle gestures in Kate's direction. "Do you see what I've been putting up with? Here I am trying to save the world and your wife thinks it's all just some delusion."
"Save the world? From what?"
"Look, I don't have time to explain everything again," Doyle nods to Kate. "She can tell you all about it. I really have to get back."
"Uh, wait," Castle calls before Doyle can slip away. "How do you know we're…" He can't quite manage the word, instead gesturing between himself and his… partner? She did call herself his partner a minute ago so he supposes the term still applies.
"Castle."
"Oh, it's on the jacket of your new book," Doyle explains easily. "You know, 'Richard Castle lives in New York City with his wife, NYPD police captain Kate Beckett, and their three kids.' And by the way, making the jump from mystery novels to serious literature was a solid career move."
"Three kids?"
"Serious literature?"
Doyle gestures between them. "You know, now that I've met you both, I can see how you ended up together." He consults his watch. "Oh, wow, I don't have much time left. Well…" he shrugs, "see you in twenty three years."
Doyle departs and Kate heads back to her desk, leaving Castle standing in the hallway alone and confused. Wife? Even his writer's brain is having trouble connecting the dots on this one. Bits and pieces of it make sense. He loves her. Despite his anger, despite the pain she's caused, his stubborn heart still loves her. The marriage concept leaves him a little uneasy, but he supposes it's not out of the realm of possibility that he might eventually embrace the idea.
What he can't understand is Kate. It's been three years. If she doesn't love him by now, is that really liable to change in the near future? And does he stick around despite his broken heart, still clinging to the desperate hope that she'll one day realize she loves him too? As much as he loves her, he's not sure he can continue to show up day after day and suffer through the constant pain. He's written about unrequited love in his books, but he's never experienced it himself. At least, not as intensely as this.
Of course, it's entirely possible the guy is making the whole thing up. Castle knows absolutely nothing about this last case.
By the time he emerges from his thoughts, Kate is already back at her desk poised to begin the paperwork. He briefly debates joining her, but between his aching solar plexus and this bizarre revelation, he finds himself slightly nauseous and extremely confused. So he leaves without a word, but not before catching a glimpse of Kate at her desk, pen hanging limply in her right hand and forehead resting in her left hand, a curtain of hair shielding her face from view.
Kate huffs a sigh and throws back the covers, glaring angrily at her alarm clock. The bright red 2:47am glares back at her unforgivingly. She sits up and folds her legs, wraps her arms around them and drops her forehead to her knees. She went to bed four hours ago and she hasn't slept a wink. This is ridiculous. There's no way Doyle was from the future. Time travel isn't real. He was either trapped in his delusion or he was messing with her, with no way of realizing how painful it was for him to pretend that she and Castle will eventually be in a relationship.
She wants so badly for it to be true. Mostly. Marriage and kids is maybe a little much, but she so desperately wants the relationship part. It's why she's been going to therapy. It's why she's been putting in so much work to move beyond her past and knock down that wall. She thought he understood. When they talked about it on the swings, she thought she'd made it clear that she wanted them. That she just needed a little bit of time and then she was all in. Apparently he either misunderstood or he's no longer interested.
Kate reaches for her phone, hesitates. It's the middle of the night. And this seems like more of an in-person conversation anyway. Burke did encourage her to reach out to him. She wasn't intending to follow his advice – after all, Castle is the one who's been pulling away – but after spending half the night tossing and turning with visions of their future filling her brain…
She's not going to beg. If he's moved on then he's moved on and apparently, deep down, he never thought she was worth waiting for to begin with. But she is going to demand an explanation. At the very least, he owes her that.
After almost talking herself out of it a dozen times, Kate finally pulls open her front door and is taken completely by surprise when she finds herself face to face with… "Castle?"
His hand is raised as though he was about to knock, and he looks at it in apparent bewilderment before dropping his arm to his side.
"I, uh…" she begins.
"Was it real?"
"What?"
"The time travel guy," he demands. "Was it real?"
Kate sighs and steps back, silently inviting him in. "I honestly don't know."
She shuts the door and turns to find Castle lingering in the foyer. He looks uncomfortable, as though he's regretting his decision to come here. The dark circles around his eyes underscore his exhaustion, and he looks as frazzled as she feels.
"I'm sorry," he says suddenly. "I shouldn't be here."
He's reaching for the door before she's even registered what's happening and all she can do is reach out and snag the sleeve of his jacket. "Castle, wait."
He yanks his arm away, wraps his hand firmly around the doorknob.
"I want it to be true," she confesses, a desperate attempt to halt his departure.
He snorts derisively but doesn't open the door. "Right. Look, I don't know what future he was from, but it clearly wasn't this one."
"Rick, please," she pleads.
"Please what?" he hisses. He rounds on her and his eyes are swimming with more agony than she's ever seen. "Please stick around and wait to see if it's true? I already know it's not, Beckett. You've made that immensely clear."
His words cut through her like a shard of glass but she embraces the pain, uses it to strengthen her resolve. Kate firmly places herself between him and the door. He could easily push her out of the way and they both know it, but he doesn't.
She crosses her arms defiantly. "I've made what clear?"
"That my feelings will never be reciprocated," he snaps. "It's been three years. How much longer do you expect me to show up every day hoping you'll eventually love me back? So please just…"
"Not reciprocated?" she chokes out. She gestures between them. "Castle, I want this so much it terrifies me."
She sees the moment her words break through his defenses, catching him completely off guard. "You…" he clears his throat, tries again, "you do?"
"Yes," she whispers. "We talked about this on the swings. I thought you knew."
"I did," he admits. "I thought."
She refolds her arms across her chest. "What changed?"
He shoves both hands into the pockets of his jacket. "You lied."
"No I didn't," she insists. "I meant what I said."
"That's not what I'm talking about." His tone makes it clear that whatever he's about to say is not up for debate. "You remember. Everything."
Kate swallows hard, drops her hands to her side. "Oh. That."
Silence falls for a long moment before Castle speaks. "So if it wasn't to spare my feelings, then why?"
Another moment passes before she's able to put together an answer. She knew they'd have to discuss this at some point, but in her panicked haste to get to him tonight she hadn't given any thought to what she would say.
"I lied to everyone," she finally admits. "I thought it would help me recover if I pretended not to remember any of it. That way I wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath."
"Did it?"
Kate shakes her head. "No." She sees the flash of disapproval in his eyes, feels a sudden need to eradicate it. "But therapy has."
His eyes widen. "You're seeing a therapist?"
She nods.
When he replies, his voice – his entire demeanor – is softer than it's been since… she can't remember when. "I didn't know that."
"No one does."
"But it's helping," he reiterates.
"Yes." There's no hesitation. If Kate is certain of anything, it's this. "He's been helping me knock down that wall I told you about."
Castle cocks his head in interest. "And it's coming down?"
She smiles for what feels like the first time in days. "I'm pretty sure it's gone."
Or if it's not, he's already inside it. In retrospect, she thinks he probably has been for a while. But right now, the details don't matter. All that matters is that, for the first time in weeks, he's looking at her with eyes full of love. God, she's missed that so much. Missed him.
She isn't sure who makes the first move, but his hands settle on her waist just as hers rise to cradle his jaw, and when their lips meet it's soft and tender and so perfect.
"I'm sorry," Kate murmurs as they separate, but she doesn't go far.
"So am I," he confesses against her lips. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."
She swipes the pad of her thumb across his cheekbone, watches his eyes dip closed at her touch and feels him lean into her. When his eyelids slide open again he looks calm and at peace. She feels the same. Kate slides both hands around and clasps them at the nape of his neck, leans back in his arms enough to smile up at him. Castle's eyes crinkle in the corners as he returns the gesture.
"Hi," he offers.
"Hey."
Castle cocks his head, eyes bright and twinkling. "So, uh, three kids?"
She furrows her brow. "What?"
"The time traveler," he clarifies. "He said we're married with three kids."
"Oh, right."
Castle clears his throat. "Do you, uh, want kids?"
She glances away and draws her lower lip between her teeth, contemplating. "I'm not sure. Maybe?" She catches his gaze once more, finds him regarding her curiously. "Do you want more kids?"
He shrugs. "I'm open to the possibility."
She hums in reply.
"I guess we'll just have to wait and see if he's right."
"Guess so." The thought of marriage and kids still leaves her wary. But three years ago the thought of having such intense feelings for Castle – or anyone, for that matter – made her wary as well. Clearly things change in ways she's never imagined.
Castle grins down at her, oblivious to her inner turmoil. "So what should we do in the meantime?"
Kate raises an eyebrow in challenge. "Well, there's a bed in my bedroom," she teases, "and we have about four hours until I have to get ready for work."
He pretends to consider her offer, pretends as though there's even a chance they aren't about to spend the rest of the night naked and wrapped around each other. She just barely manages to suppress a giant smile, but her attempts to suppress the flutter of anticipation building in her stomach or the rapidly accelerating beat of her heart are a complete and utter failure.
Castle slips both hands beneath the fabric of her shirt, spreading wide and warm against the skin of her lower back. His eyes are a deep clear blue, and on the surface she recognizes the same teasing glimmer she's seen so many times before, but just beneath lies anticipation and nervousness and lust and love to mirror her own.
Kate realizes in that moment that she believes Simon Doyle, and that Castle does too. And that means they both know what this is. The fake but real kiss they shared in an alley just over a year ago was her last first kiss. And this is about to be their last first time.
It's an overwhelming realization and almost instantly she feels the first tendrils of panic begin to take hold. But then Castle waggles his eyebrows, distracting her from her thoughts before they can swallow her whole. As though he knows where her mind has gone, knows it's exactly what she needs.
He probably does.
"I think we'll figure out a way to pass the time."
Thoughts?