Inherited Traits II

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

― Anaïs Nin

"Doesn't change anything," he whispered, holding her hand tightly even as panic crawled up her throat.

She took a deep breath and met his eyes. He was giving it back. She didn't want it back. She wanted him to hold her to it.

"Yes it does."

His hand clutched hers like a reflex. "Kate." He stared at her, the blood draining from his arm, as if trying to be sure she was real. "I'd never wonder."

Her chest eased; she gave him a flickering smile. Good.

The nurse came back from the front of the trailer, exclaimed over the bag. "Look at this. Your blood's really pumping. Let me change this out-"

Kate ducked her head and averted her eyes as the nurse changed the bag. She could practically feel Castle laughing at her.

When the nurse moved away again, she raised her head.

He was. Laughing at her. Silent but full of mirth.

"Shut up."

He laced his fingers through hers. "I just find it so funny that this bothers you."

"It doesn't bother me," she said. "I'd just rather not look at it."

The laughter fell away and she realized she was staring at him, that his eyes were searching hers for traces of resignation, regret. He wasn't going to find any.

The nurse came back and checked on Castle again, held the bags up, hot and red, and Kate looked down at their two hands, feeling her heart slow.

The movements around her fell away. The moment was now. This was the time. She might not be perfect, she might not be good enough. She knew she wasn't. But to remain as they were. . .that would do more damage. To them both.

She was damaged enough as it was.

His hand loosened, shook hers off, and she lifted her head with a protest on her lips. The nurse was easing him up, a band-aid in the crook of his arm, and he had to hold the cotton ball in place. She stood as well, slid her arm through his good one.

He pressed her arm against his ribs with his elbow and gave her a wink. "I'm fine. All good."

She expected him to pass out; she really did. But he walked to the back and sat down at the little table, his eyes lighting up at the package of M&Ms. Kate laughed and grabbed them for him, ripped it open.

He grinned and opened his mouth for her to feed him.

"Don't push your luck."

Kate handed them over, sitting beside him at the table. He crunched into a candy and kept grinning at her, like he couldn't stop.

Why had the knowledge of his secret pushed her to this? Because it was, after all, such a secret? Or was it because his commitment to his daughter, his daughter in everything but blood, was such an overwhelming statement about his character? About the man he was. About the man he would be with Kate.

He didn't reach for another M&M. He reached for her hand again instead and sat staring at her for a long moment.

"Can I tell you a story?"

She grinned. "You're the one who might faint from blood loss. Sure you're up for it?"

"Definitely. And I never faint."

"What about when Lanie-"

"I mean for normal things."

"Internal organs are normal-"

"Let me rephrase. For things that most people don't ever see." He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. "Now. My story?"

"Go ahead."

"I'm trying to be romantic and you're bringing up autopsies."

"Romantic?" she murmured, lifting her lips in a half-smile.

"Okay, not the best of places, but still. Cut me some slack. I'm suffering from blood loss."

She raked her eyes down his body, back up, and met his suddenly flushed gaze. "You're not suffering one bit."

"Jeez, Kate. Wait to do that until I can do something about it. Now I'm gonna have to sit here until I. . .uh, suffer a different kind of blood loss so that we can get out of here."

She laughed in surprise, not expecting the crudeness of his comment to hit her so viscerally. His hand tightened around hers.

"My story."

"Yeah," she said, her heart already pounding.

"You gonna keep interrupting me?"

"Tell your story, Castle."

He smiled at her, slow and sensual, and a string connecting her heart to her guts pulled taut as if strummed.

"I've been concocting this story in my head for awhile now. For ages. It's goes like this. One day, Kate, you turn to look at me and something different is in your face. Something open. Like it is right now."

She couldn't help it, couldn't control it, whatever it was he saw.

"I reach out and brush my hand over your jaw-"

His fingers were feathering her skin, light and gentle.

"-and you lean in and kiss me."

She didn't, but he didn't seem to mind. She didn't because she wanted to know the story he'd been telling himself all this time.

"Your lips are soft. I make you leave the marker on your desk, the whiteboard half-filled with the slowly accumulating facts of the case. You drive."

She always drove. He'd gotten the details right; he always did.

"You drive us to your apartment. I come upstairs with you, I brush my fingers across your neck-"

Her skin was alive, coming awake at the soft, soft touch of his hand.

"I kiss you-" a gentle touch of his lips against her cheek was all she got. "We make love."

She couldn't look away from him, couldn't move. Waves of desire rooted her to the chair, her knee between his, one of her hands curled around the seat's edge.

"You let me love you, Kate." He was using a finger to trail down her throat, the buttons of her shirt, then back up again. "My daughter goes off to college, but you let me love you. As much as I can. As often as I can. One night I take you to a spot beside the reflecting pool at the Botanic Gardens, just us in the whole place, the flowers in the moonlight, my hand at the back of your neck."

Her body was hot with it, arousal jolting through her like a lightning strike, immediate and intense.

"You sit on a bench and I drop to my knee. I ask you to marry me-"

She wouldn't live through this story. As ridiculous and romantic and completely out of character as it was, it was doing things to her she couldn't stop.

"The wedding is there, at the reflecting pool. You're always beautiful. But there. Then-" He shrugged and let his fingers drift down her arm. "You're amazing. You're looking only at me."

She couldn't look at him now. She would tremble, and that was unacceptable. That was weak, and she was strong. She'd have to keep being strong to survive this.

"When we have our first child-"

Oh God.

"The baby is perfect, all the little fingers, all the tiny toes. You picked out the name, you've got our child-"

Kate kissed him, hard, her mouth silencing his story, her body vibrating with need. To make it true, make it exist, all of it, despite the implausibility of her ever doing most of those things.

He unleashed all of it into his kiss back, the fantasy and the reality twisting together in the space between their bodies, his hand against her neck like it might've been in his story.

Kate broke away first, struggling to breathe, struggling to remember where she was. She jumped at a loud footfall, looking up, and the nurse was heading their way.

"If you're not feeling light-headed, Mr. Castle, you're free to go."

Castle looked at Kate, laced his fingers through hers. "I'm feeling light-headed. I think I'll stay right here."