Go Out Fighting Four: We Don't End

She woke suddenly in their bed, a jerk of her limbs and the sensation of falling, but she realized her phone was ringing. Kate reached for it blindly where it was charging on the bedside table, and she squinted at the display.

Castle-?

Oh.

Silly man.

His ID said, simply, Yes.

It'd been a week since she'd asked, and - well - they'd both forgotten he hadn't precisely answered.

She grinned and sat up, answered his answer. "Rick," she laughed into the phone. "Where are you?"

"Merry Christmas. Come find me."

"You're ridiculous," she murmured, but really, she had started it. "I need to put on clothes."

"You don't need to put on clothes. You just want them."

"If I know the Castle family, then your daughter and mother are probably out there right now. So yes, I need to put on clothes."

"That could be true. Wait, I know. Let me come find you instead."

"No, I'll come to you. I'm hanging up now," she laughed. Kate slid out of bed and went for the bathroom, checking the time as she did. Nearly six. She'd had a restless night and for once it wasn't because of anxiety or a case at work. It was just Christmas Eve and she was ready for it.

She was ready for all of it. Finally.

Even though the follow-up at the neurologist had given her the sense that Castle was supposed to be getting more rest, and even though the job had required some demanding physical exertion the last few weeks - enough to make the scar at her stomach tense and her back ache, even with the approaching Christmas holiday - ever since she'd proposed, they hadn't exactly been resting.

Lovely, intense, amazing not-resting.

But still. After today. After tonight, she'd insist on some real down time. Both of them. Maybe get away together, curl up in blankets while they swapped favorite episodes of campy sci-fi shows and shopped for rings online.

Kate washed her hands after going to the bathroom, found underwear and leggings in the closet and pulled them on. She opted for a clean white tshirt from her massive wooden wardrobe which - and this still surprised her - actually fit inside his closet; it was obscene how much space he had. They had.

She shrugged on another layer as she shivered in the cold seeping in from the windows, and then she headed out to find him.

Wasn't hard.

He was just in the kitchen, Alexis sitting on the bar stool and looking a little worse for wear. They'd all stayed up too late last night, telling stories and laughing and Alexis getting more and more excited about the engagement, getting ideas, and promising things, and painting a vision for them of the years to come. (Kids; she'd mentioned kids and wanting a little brother to boss around and playing dress-up with a baby sister and what would their names be, and Kate really - it had exhausted her to just sit there and listen.)

She brushed a hand down Alexis's arm and lifted an eyebrow; the young woman wriggled her fingers in a wave and went back to her pancakes. Shaped like. . .snowmen? Trees? Something with three parts to it.

Courtesy of the man at the stove right now.

"Merry Christmas, Castle," she murmured, sliding in next to him, absorbing the warmth of the stove, the heat of his body.

He grinned widely at her and leaned in to drop a kiss to her lips, quick and sloppy, and she reached up to smooth her fingers at his jaw.

"How's it feel?"

"Burns a little right. . .there."

She stopped her fingers at the spot, light and delicate, and she watched his reaction. Seemed okay. The nerve was healing, at least. That was a relief. She didn't like the way he constantly touched and messed with it, but so long as he was getting the feeling back, she could deal.

"Where's your mother?" she asked, sinking a hip against the counter next to the stove.

"Still upstairs. I think she and Alexis stayed up last night after we went to bed."

Kate nodded. "I woke at. . .three? And came out for water. They were asleep on the couch."

"Kate woke us," Alexis interjected. "Gram and I had talked for hours and hours."

"About what, pumpkin?" Castle turned at the stove and glanced at Alexis, but Kate thought she knew. She'd seen it in their eyes sitting at the dining room table for Christmas Eve dinner, and she'd seen it again when Kate had leaned over Alexis and woken her up.

"About our family," Alexis shrugged. She shot Kate a half-anxious look, but surely they were past that now? It'd been ages since-

Well, not really. Only since May, that day at Montgomery's funeral in the sun-soaked grass. Everything had happened so fast from that point: the hospital and being hunted and Castle saving her life and getting shot in the process (grazed, he insisted, it had just grazed his jaw). The recovery center and not eating and bribing him to at least suck down a milkshake and the hateful, grueling therapy - all of that in practically six months.

"Yeah?" Castle encouraged, but Alexis had clammed up.

"Has it changed too fast?" Kate asked, leaning back fully against the counter now.

But Alexis gave a bright smile and laughed, her blue eyes squinting much like her father's. "No. Not fast enough. We were talking about grandkids and kids and. . .everything."

Grandkids?

"Who's getting grandkids?"

"You. Or Gram."

Kate snorted and saw Castle blanch at the thought. She snaked a hand to his hip and squeezed.

"Let's make it Gram," she said clearly, and then she turned to Alexis sitting at the bar. "For your father's sake."

Except Castle choked on his next breath and Alexis and Kate shared a gleaming, devilish smile.

"For my sake, let's focus on the kid I got right now and shelve this discussion," he growled, lifting the spatula and pointing it at both of them. "I'm still a wounded man."

"Not wounded enough," she warned, narrowing her eyes. "Don't you want another kid?"

He seemed to actually pale and she saw it for what it was - a facade, a mask, a way to make it funny without having to face the reality of it. Not in a bad way. But being melodramatic to get a laugh so that the conversation wasn't so serious.

"Can we get married first?"

"Not everyone gets married first," Alexis piped up. All ears. Kate glanced at Castle's face and shut her mouth, reminded herself that it was a family - their family - and not just she and Castle alone.

"You - young lady - better be getting married first," Castle growled at Alexis.

"Married first," Kate said softly and lifted on her toes to press her lips to that spot on his jaw. She felt his muscle twitch and smoothed her fingers down his forearm, took his hand.

Castle turned just enough to capture her lips, a kiss of relief and appreciation and understanding. When they broke apart, he moved to her cheek, gave a little grunt of contentment.

"Merry Christmas, Rick."

"Good gift," he sighed back, and she wasn't sure if it was the kiss or dropping the kid discussion or just. . .them.

Or all of the above.

Castle paused to survey the scene with relish.

Breakfast was an all-morning affair as Martha had come down around eight and joined them, and then Beckett's father had shown up and accepted a plate of pancakes as well. They were spread over the main rooms - Kate and her father at the dining room table, his mother on the couch, Alexis at the bar but checking her phone every few seconds, and Castle wandering between all of them.

"Castle, come sit down," Kate laughed. "Making me jumpy."

He shook her off. "Just came to see if you guys wanted more."

Her father shook his head with a gentle smile. "No, no. I'm good. I ate before I came too, so-"

"I told you not to," Kate chided, then she turned her face to Castle and gave him that soft, brilliant smile he'd seen so much of lately. "I told him you were making us Christmas breakfast."

"And in the shape of. . .stockings?" Jim added.

Castle sighed as Kate laughed. "They're supposed to be trees. It's a work in progress."

"Oh, right. Trees. Of course."

Kate laughed harder and he glared at her, poking her shoulder as he turned back for the kitchen. He could still hear her laughing as he reached the stove, started turning everything off. They would open the last of their family gifts in a few minutes, the extra surprises from Santa; they'd done the traditional Castle stuff last night - dinner and presents and tearing into it. He and Kate weren't supposed to be exchanging gifts, but he had something anyway.

She'd already given him a pretty huge gift last week, not just the index cards with his I love you framed, but the proposal - as ridiculous and silly as it had been. And amazing.

He was getting her a Christmas present, no matter what she said.

"Castle," she called out. "Come sit down."

He kissed his daughter's forehead as he went past, and Kate pushed out a chair with her toe, nodding to it. Castle acquiesced with a sigh, but Kate was reaching over to wrap her fingers around his forearm in that gesture of ownership that always burrowed deep into his heart.

"Tell Dad what it feels like," she said, nodding to her father. "I was trying to explain."

"Oh, my jaw?" And even though Kate was most likely trying to get him to rest (she was always saying he didn't give his body the chance to heal) while simultaneously working his jaw, he went along with the topic of conversation. "Yeah, it's a strange feeling."

"Only if you don't mind," Jim asked, leaning forward on his elbows on the table. "I'm curious."

"Well right now," he admitted. "I have this strip." Castle touched the underside of his chin, rubbed it thoughtfully. "It feels cold. Like ice is being applied directly beneath the skin. Not on top - I can't feel much there. But like a thin and cold metal plate is right below the surface, frozen straight through."

"Oh?" Kate murmured and her fingers on his forearm squeezed and released. He saw the tension cloud her face as she studied him.

He'd forgotten. He'd gotten lost in telling the story, in finding just the right words to explain that he'd forgotten that Kate didn't take it well, that she still held some imaginary burden of responsibility.

Castle flipped his hand and took hers, lacing their fingers, wanting to erase the lines of trouble. "It's just interesting. Doesn't hurt."

She sighed and he knew it was because that wasn't good either. It was supposed to hurt - it if it hurt, it meant he'd regain nerve function.

"Hey," he said. "Let's open the last of our presents. Stuff from Santa. All of our stockings are hanging up and taunting me with their fullness."

Jim caught on quick; he pushed back from the table and joined in on the effort to distract Kate. "Santa? Rick, you somehow convinced Katie to invest in a little Christmas magic?"

"Never," Kate said with relish and then bit her bottom lip and shot Castle a sideways look. "Well. It's a close thing."

"My family will always celebrate with Santa Claus," he cautioned her. "My children."

She narrowed her eyes at him for that, but he was only getting her back.

"Come on, Kate. Stockings."

She sat on the floor in front of the chair, leaned her head back against Castle's knee. She was cross-legged and her Christmas stocking still rested full in her lap, but she was enjoying the show. Her father was on the couch with Martha at the other end, both of them amused by their gifts from Santa while Alexis had to open every single item and immediately attempt it or use it or play with it - whatever it was.

She was smoothing peach lip gloss over her mouth and leaning in so her Gram could smell when Kate felt the sharp jar at her back. She turned and gave Castle a look.

"Open yours," he said, nodding down.

"I'm watching."

"Come on, start in on it."

"What about you?" she retorted. Alexis and Martha had filled most of his; Kate wasn't used to the stocking stuffer concept and she'd contributed only a few ideas. Better prepared next time, she hoped.

"Mine's not the important one."

She glanced down at the velvet stocking in her lap, embroidered with her name, the same style as everyone else in the family. She'd had no say in that either, and it was another thing she should've spoken up about. Next time. Next time they needed a new stocking hung up. . .

"Mine's important?" she asked. She looked at him over her shoulder with suspicion. What had he done? "Then come sit down here with me."

He slid right off the chair so easily she wondered if he'd been waiting for her to ask. She couldn't help the flicker of a smile at his eagerness and she reached up to caress the side of his face, realizing as she did that Castle had gotten her started on it too. Messing with the numb parts of his jaw so much that now she did it too.

He caught her fingers with his hand and kissed her knuckles. "Look in your stocking, Kate."

And then she knew exactly what he'd done.

He saw the realization wash over her and his breath caught.

He'd been - afraid. A little bit afraid. They'd said no gifts, no major gifts, and even fighting to fill Christmas stockings had felt like a battle, but he couldn't let this go. Not this.

But she looked as caught up in it as he did. She looked at him in wonder, and he felt like the king of the world for it. She hadn't even gotten to it yet and she looked like she wanted to take him into the bedroom and shut out everyone else.

He bumped her shoulder and she slid her arm through his, nestling down close.

"Come on," he murmured. "Look inside."

She danced her fingers over the stocking but paused. "You do it."

"Kate," he laughed. "There's other stuff in there too. You should open everything."

"That first," she breathed out.

"You really. . ." He trailed off and laughed again, then he gave in and leaned forward, stuck his hand down her stocking. He had to pull out a few things first to get to it - the apple, the iphone case, the tin of her favorite mints that she kept hidden in her drawer at work. But he knew the heft of the one he was looking for, the feel of the box in his fingers. He'd wrapped it in goofy Christmas paper - reindeers copulating - and when he brought it out and presented it to her with a flourish of his open palm, she giggled.

She giggled.

This wasn't the Beckett who had begged him to stay out of sight in that hospital bathroom while a killer hunted her down. This wasn't the Kate who had wheeled herself into his room and hovered at his side with those damn index cards scattered over the blanket and his jaw wired shut. This wasn't even the woman who had argued with him over eating honey at the recovery center.

Those moments were part of her, part of them together, and they had shaped what this was, but here was the real Kate, the heart of her, reaching out and closing her hand around the box.

"Hey, before you open it," he started.

She lifted her chin to look at him and he saw the deep and rich brown of her eyes shot through with gold and green like some kind of spinning kaleidoscope. The mosaic pieced there made his whole body pulse hard with a longing that seemed unavoidable and yet also so very necessary.

"I love you, Kate," he murmured into that.

She smiled, that wide and deeply content press of her lips that made those eyes reform into a new pattern - all gorgeous and echoing love.

Her lips came close and pressed a soft brushing kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was the spot where the nerve damage had lately begun to heal and it sparked sharp and hot through his body, made him sway into her.

She caught him with a hand at his neck, a chuckle in her throat, and he smiled with it because they always seemed to do this with fireworks.

"Open it," he insisted.

She pulled back and Castle realized suddenly that everyone was watching them, watching her, because of course he'd asked her father first for his blessing, and then he'd used his mother and daughter to help him shop for it. So they all knew.

Kate was peeling off the tape with slow and cautious fingers and he turned his mouth to her ear and growled at her to hurry.

She giggled again, lifted dangerous eyes to him, but went back to her methodical work.

Kate traced the crude designs on the wrapping paper, and even though some part of her, some long forgotten sharp edge to her personality was affronted by the fact that he'd wrapped her engagement ring in reindeers having cartoon sex, most of her was amused by it.

Even a little bit romanced. Because that was Castle. He'd do a thing like that and be fighting a stupid, cheesy grin the whole time, and it made her heart flip funny when he did.

Which one of them was worse?

Kate got the paper apart and folded it carefully even as Castle groaned. She heard an answering huff somewhere from the couch and she lifted her startled gaze to her father. He was watching, Martha and Alexis were too, and they all looked on edge.

She grinned and went back to the box.

Blue velvet. Deep and rich as a twilight sky. Innocuous in its small and unintrusive presence. She pressed her thumbs to the seam of the box and glanced over at Castle.

"Come on," he groaned.

She chewed on her bottom lip to keep from laughing and flipped open the box.

He held his breath, and Kate was launching herself into him.

He wasn't even sure she'd seen it when she threw herself at him, her arm snaking around his neck and dragging him down and the ring box snapping shut against his chest, but now she was practically in his lap.

"Kate?" he laughed, slower to wrap his arms around her but definitely not letting go.

"Castle," she growled out.

She liked it. He could hear it in her voice. She really liked it.

"Yeah," he said inanely, and he had to bury his grin in her hair because everyone was still watching and laughing and talking now.

"Yeah," she sighed back, her face still against his neck and he thought she might be - no. Not Kate.

"Hey, you crying?" he laughed again, stroking his fingers through her hair and palming her cheek.

"No," she groaned out.

Oh, she was.

"It's beautiful," she muttered and her arm squeezed harder around his neck, her hand at the back of his head and stroking through his hair.

He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to the skin of her jaw, felt the corresponding awareness flicker in his own nerve-damaged face, and she pulled back then to look at him.

"It's - beautiful, Castle." She took in a deeper breath and then he felt the box being pressed into his palm. "Put it on me."

She meant to study the ring; she had meant to watch it slide on her finger and just know with that moment how everything would always go with them.

But instead she found her eyes drawn to his face, watching him as he did it, her breath half-caught and her heart flailing like a rabid thing, flinging itself at the cage of her ribs.

Castle took her left hand in his and his fingers rubbed at her knuckles, her skin slipping and sliding over the bone. He lifted his gaze to her for a moment, nervousness and self-deprecation there, and then he squeezed her hand and tugged the ring from the box.

His face was so open. The deep lines and the crinkle in his eyes and the crooked lift of his smile because of the nerve damage and the numbness so that his face was altered from the face she'd met four years ago, but it was still so. . .beautiful.

He was pushing the ring on her finger; he was almost laughing with it.

He was joyful, yes, but his eyes were a color she'd never seen, a color that spoke of a depth she'd never witnessed in him before, and she had the dumbstruck realization that she there was so much about him she just didn't know.

She'd never asked. He poked at her and dragged it out of her and begged for her backstory, but she'd taken him at face value and then when he'd proved to have depths undiscovered, she'd only gone down a few meters before coming back up for air.

There was so much more.

And she had forever to dive with him.

She hoped her feet never touched bottom.

the end.

happy birthday, shannon