COUP DE GRÂCE
PART FOUR


As much as she knows she'll miss him, she can't go back with him, not yet. Not until she's exorcised her demons, her fears of still being a target. But she doesn't want Castle to feel like he's stuck at the cabin, despite his insistence that he wouldn't be. She tries to spin it so she's doing him a favor.

But even after multiple heart-to-hearts over the next few days, talks that have left her more confident and less afraid, she's still paranoid. She still jumps when a branch breaks outside, and she's still weak physically, as well. She's in more pain than she lets on, and she doesn't want Castle to see her this way.

He's being strong for her. The least she can do is show him that she's healing, even if she pretends she's doing better than she really is.

She doesn't want to show him weakness.

"I want to give you everything," she'd whispered the night before, as they drifted to sleep, her face in the crook of his neck. "All of me. And I can't do that right now. I'm sorry."

His arm had tightened around her shoulders, and he'd pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You don't need to apologize, Kate," he'd muttered against her hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

She lingers by the door now as she watches him put his bag in the car. It's everything she can do to stay vertical, let alone walk the few steps to his car, but when he comes back to her she manages to push herself off the door. His arms wrap around her, and she returns the gesture, grips his shirt in her hands, nuzzles into his chest. "Thank you for coming," she murmurs.

He kisses her hairline, then forehead, then takes a step back and bends down to kiss her lips. "Thank you for letting me," he whispers against her mouth.

"Let me know when you get home?"

"Of course."

She ignores the complaint from her side and loops her arms around his neck, tugging him down for another kiss, one that leaves them both breathless. "I love you," she gasps when they part.

He smiles and cups her cheeks, strokes his thumbs along the slash of her cheeks. "I love you too. You'll call if you need anything? Even if it's the middle of the night and you just need to know I'm alive?"

She narrows her eyes at him. Early the previous morning she'd awakened with a gasp, her recurring nightmare of Rick being shot instead of her fresh on her mind. She'd ignored the ache from her side when she'd reached behind her for Rick. The other side of the bed had been empty, a slight indent of his body, the warmth fading. Her breath had quickened as she'd slid from beneath the sheets in search for him, and by the time she'd found him in the kitchen she'd been so worked up that she nearly collapsed in his arms, fingers clutching his t-shirt.

"I promise." They trade one more I love you before he steps away from her, and after one more kiss, he retreats to his car.

He calls her when he's halfway home, just to check in, he claims, but she can tell by the sound of his voice that he just wants to hear her talk. So she does, shares a few stories from her childhood, memories of her mom that she'd never expected to resurface. She curls on one end of the couch, wrapped in the sweatshirt he'd left behind (on purpose, she suspects). It smells like him, and when she lets out a contented sigh he teases her about it.

"It's been two hours," he jokes, the background noise fading as he presumably turns off the freeway. "I'm going to have to come back there so you don't just wallow in lonely misery, aren't I?"

"No," she mumbles. "Dad will be back tonight, so I won't be alone for very long."

"Uh-huh. You miss me."

"Yeah, I do." That shuts him up, and she curls up even more, nuzzles her nose in the collar of the shirt. "But I'll come home soon. Maybe in a few weeks."

"Can I visit again?" he asks. "Before you do?"

She grins into the fabric of the sweatshirt. This man. He sounds so tentative, so hopeful, and she feels her heart swell with love. "Absolutely. The weekend after next?"

She can imagine the way his grin lights up his face at her response.

"Perfect."


He barely registers the soft pad of her feet behind him early one morning during his next visit. He doesn't turn, but stiffens at the touch of her hand at the base of his spine. He's tired, up early after a night of restlessness, had finally slid out of bed shortly before sunrise so he wouldn't disturb Kate anymore than he already had.

"You didn't sleep," she murmurs, her lips warm against his bare shoulder, arms sliding around his waist.

He doesn't respond, his gaze steady on the wall in front of him, and her grip tightens, presumably when she registers the stiff set of his shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

Castle steps out of her arms and turns, cups his hands at her elbows. "I have to tell you something."

He doesn't want to, doesn't want to potentially ruin the good place they're in. They've been more open with their feelings this summer than ever before, but he's still keeping one thing from her, has been terrified that she'll hate him for it. But it's eating him up inside, and she needs to know.

"It's about your shooting."

Her face is a kaleidoscope of emotions as she narrows her eyes, confusion making way to suspicion. "What about my shooting?" she asks in a low voice.

"A couple days after you were shot, I got a call from a man who claimed he got a package from Montgomery. In it was evidence, identifying and proving who was behind your mother's murder. Blackmail," he continues at the furrow of her brow. "If anything were to happen to you, the file would be released. But the file was too late, so he made a new deal."

Kate takes a step back, her arms raising to cover her chest, a fist clenching between her breasts, above her scar. "What kind of deal?"

Rick takes a deep breath before continuing. "They'll leave you alone, if you don't pursue the case anymore."

"If I don't-" Kate scoffs. "Who is this guy that called you, what's his name?"

"I only know him as Smith."

"Where can I find him?"

"I have no idea. He called me from an unknown number. I don't even know his first name, or if Smith even if is real name."

"Okay, let me get this straight. You've spoken to someone who knows who had my mom killed, and who ordered me shot, and you don't even know who he is?" She turns on her heel, stalking out of the bedroom, and Castle follows after just a moment of hesitation.

"It's not-"

"How the hell do you know that he's telling the truth?" she interrupts, spinning on her heel and leveling him with a glare. "How do you know he's not behind it all, trying to draw you into a trap?"

"I don't. But Kate, if there was any chance he could be legitimate, I had to check it out."

Kate freezes. "I'm sorry, what? What do you mean, check it out?"

He hesitates, shift his weight from one foot to another. "I've been putting together a case file at home," he admits, and the way her face falls makes his heart sink. "Trying to find out who Smith is, find anything we might have missed. I don't have any answers, but I don't want to keep it from you anymore."

"Rick," Kate interrupts, crossing her arms. "What are you saying?"

"I failed, Kate," he says on a heavy sigh. "I wanted to solve it for you. You said on my first visit that you weren't ready to come back to the city, because it felt like you had a target on your back, so I thought if I could solve it, find the guy who shot you and the bastard behind it, that you could come home sooner. But I couldn't. I can't. I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Kate asks, her voice soft, and she presses a gentle hand to his jaw, scrapes the pad of her thumb along his stubble. "I could have helped you."

"That's exactly why," he explains. "I didn't want you to be a part of it again. You needed to focus on healing, not the case."

"So instead you decided to investigate, to put yourself in danger?"

"Yeah. Your mom's case is the most important thing in your life, and I wanted to do it for you."

Kate smiles softly, and brushes her lips against his. "I appreciate the motive, but I don't need it solved. Not anymore. Don't get me wrong," she continues when he furrows his brow, "I'd love to put him away and let him rot in prison."

He cups his hands around her hips, holds her close as he kisses her again. "I want that for you," he whispers against her mouth.

"I won't, though, and that's okay."

He takes a step back and looks at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You know I've been talking to a therapist this summer." When he nods, she continues. "If there's one thing I've learned, what almost losing my life taught me, it's that no case is worth my life." She pauses, and her eyes focus on a spot over his shoulder, but after several long moments she smiles and meets his gaze again. "Not mine. Not even my mom's."

"But Kate-"

"Mom fought for justice," she interrupts. "But she'd want different for me. She'd want me to live, and be happy. And being with you makes me happier than any case closure could."


Castle offers to meet her at her place when she returns home in August, but she finds out that he has a book signing in the East Village the day before she originally planned to come home.

So she decides to surprise him.

She waits in line for almost three hours, and as she gets closer to him she watches him interact with his fans. The crowd is predominantly women, and he smiles at all of them, but as the time passes she can see his smile thin, notices the fatigue start to show around his eyes. He keeps his attention on each fan, though, and judging by the wide grins and giggles she hears, he's just as good at making each one feel special as he was when she first met him all those years ago.

She can tell the moment he notices her, because his face lights up with a grin, wider than she's seen in a long time.

"You can make it out to Kate," she teases when she approaches his table and grabs a book, and he reaches out to take her hand.

His thumb sweeps across her knuckles. "You're here," he breathes, withdrawing his hand when Paula clears her throat behind him. "You're not supposed to be back until tomorrow."

She shrugs a shoulder. "I came back early." She glances at the line behind her, still a few dozen women left, and steps aside. "I'll be around, find me when you're done?"

"Of course. I'll even give you a private signing later," he adds with a wink.

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, relishes the way his eyes darken. Two can play this game. "I'll count on it."


He wakes with a start, looks around the room, confusion muddling his mind as his eyes adjust to the dark. Slowly the shapes and shadows clear, and he recognizes the wardrobe, the door to the bathroom, the dark sheets he's beneath. As he wakes fully he remembers what woke him, and he untangles his legs from the sheets, swings them over the side of the bed. His movements are clumsy with sleep even as his mind races, trying to place where the loud bang had come from.

He retrieves his boxers from the floor by the foot of the bed, pushes to the back of his mind the clear memory of Kate sliding them down his legs, her hands and mouth doing wicked things to him just a few short hours before. He doesn't bother with his shirt - it's in the living room, most likely - but goes in search of his girlfriend.

She's in her spare bedroom, her arms crossed, staring at the makeshift murder board that contains the details of her mom's case. A box is on the desk next to her, a heavy-looking wood box, the lid open. When he steps past it he sees that it's empty.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he approaches, a warning before his hand touches her shoulder. She still startles sometimes, if he comes up behind her or if there's a loud noise she wasn't expecting. But she leans into his touch now, drops her head to his shoulder as he moves next to her.

She lets out a quiet hum when his palm squeezes her arm. "I'm good. Did I wake you?"

"I heard a noise, a loud bang."

"That was me, I dropped that box." She tilts her head to press a kiss to his bare shoulder. "Sorry."

"That's okay." He glances down at her hands; she's holding a picture of her mom, smiling, a photo he recognizes from the case file. "Everything okay?"

She hesitates before answering. "Yeah, I woke up from a dream and couldn't get back to sleep."

"A bad dream?"

"Not this time," Kate assures him with a brush of her lips against his jaw. "Dreamt about my mom."

She falls silent, but Rick doesn't speak, simply trails his fingers along her bicep. She has more to say, he can sense it, and she'll say it when she's ready.

"It's funny," she begins a few minutes later, "for a long time after she died, I'd have nightmares about her death. Mostly I was there, watching it happen, and I couldn't stop it." She leans into him even more. "Similar to the ones I had about you after I was shot."

Rick just nods, rests his cheek against the top of her head.

"But tonight-" She trails off then chuckles, a sound out of place in the still of the night. "It's weird. But we were all just having dinner. Mom, Dad, me." She tilts her head back and looks up at him, a small, almost sad smile on her face. "You."

He just squeezes her arm in encouragement to continue.

"In my dream, I kept looking at you. And every time I'd look away, Mom was grinning at me, this smile she'd get that always preceded 'I told you so.' And when I woke up, I realized that in my dream, I felt complete. Truly happy."

"Because she was there?"

"Yes, but it's more than that." She steps away and turns to face him, the picture clutched in her hand. "There was no death," she explains, her eyes alight with something that, until recently, he hadn't seen in some time.

Joy.

"I was happy because I was with family, Rick." She takes his hand and laces her fingers through his. "Mom wouldn't want me to live with her death hanging over me any more than it already does. So, will you help me take this down?"

Rick shifts his gaze to the wall behind her, the illuminated window. When he looks back at her she seems nervous, her bottom lip between her teeth, and he cups her jaw with his free hand so he can guide her mouth to meet his in a soft kiss. "Of course," he breathes against her lips when they part. "But only if you're sure."

Kate nudges his nose with hers before stepping back. "Putting this away feels like the start of a new chapter." She glances down at the floor and when she lifts her gaze back to him from beneath her eyelashes, she regards him with a shy smile. "I'd like if the rest of my story included you."

His breath catches in his throat at her words. They've talked a little about their future, but nothing about it long-term. They haven't even been on a real date, one where he can woo and spoil her, save for a romantic picnic during one of his trips to the cabin.

"Not your story," he responds, his voice gruff with emotion. He cups both of her cheeks, his thumbs tracing her cheeks. "Ours."

-FIN-


A/N: First and foremost, I want to thank everyone for their patience, and apologize for the long wait. When I began posting I had all four parts written and uploaded, but when it came time to post this final one, I couldn't bring myself to. I wasn't happy with it, and I didn't want to post something that I felt didn't finish telling the story I wanted to tell. Hopefully it was worth the wait. Thanks as always to Callie for the beta (although some of this last one went unchecked), as usual any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Thank you for reading!