Go Out Fighting 3: Never

She swayed on her feet, felt his arms go around her, steady, and she breathed in.

Markway. Her mother. Coonan.

Was this what it felt like to be done?

Empty. Drifting.

After lunch, they'd walked to the bungalow alone, together, while Ryan had hurried back to the city, to the case, to the rapidly mounting evidence. They'd slowly walked, Castle going at her pace. And now.

She had nothing left.

"I need to exercise my jaw," he murmured.

She made some non-committal noise and turned her cheek to rest against his shoulder. "You should."

His fingers stroked through her hair, palm cupping her ear. "I need your help for that, Beckett."

Her brow furrowed; she lifted her head to look at him. "What - why?"

He was waggling his eyebrows at her. That tight little grin.

"You wanna exercise with my face?" she asked, startled into awareness.

He chuckled. "I don't need your whole face. Your mouth will work nicely." And before she could adjust, he was dipping his head to meet her lips. But it was a gentle thing that made her sigh.

She opened to him, his warm and caring kiss. She snaked her arm up his chest, her fingers brushing his cheek, down his face. She could feel his jaw working, not quite effortless but definitely without the usual grimace.

He broke away, nudging his nose against hers, kissing the edge of her mouth, the slant of her cheekbone. She breathed against him, a little sigh that released so much.

"Castle."

"Better, huh?" He grinned at her as he shifted back, stroking a hand up her back to curl at her neck.

She gave him a smile back. "True. Much."

"But?" he asked, stroking his thumb along her collarbone.

She shivered. "But nothing." Her eyes closed, almost against her will, and then she knew what, knew the hesitation at the end of her own words. How had he known before her? "But what happens now?"

"I can think of a few things. Though you'd probably enjoy it more once you're healed up. So would I, come to think of it."

Kate twisted her lips to keep from laughing, but couldn't hold it back. He relaxed the moment she did, his own grin matching hers. She shook her head at him, traced her fingers over the pocket on his tshirt.

"So let's focus on that, Kate."

She lifted her eyes to him. "What?"

"They have evidence - they have enough to make a case. But you and I? We need to make sure we make it to that trial, that both of us get that far."

Even though he was talking again, even though his jaw was working better and his kiss had some endurance to it - delicious endurance - she could see on his face that he was probably as exhausted as she was. Just eating lunch wore him out.

"I want to go through those phone records," she said quietly.

His hands around her arms tightened, then let go. But he was nodding. "You know we don't have to. Ryan seemed convinced there was an overwhelming amount of evidence now."

"It's just - it's been taken completely out of my hands."

"He'll still have to face a judge and jury. He'll still have to pay for what he did. To your mother, to you, to everyone's lives he's ever destroyed."

"I wanted-" She shook her head and stepped away from him, rubbed a hand down her face as she headed for the couch. She could hear him following behind her. "I wanted to be the one. I need to be the one, Castle." For her.

She sank down, wincing as her muscles twinged, the cramp in her obliques, the tug of her abs, the pull at her chest. Castle dropped down next to her, reached over and slipped his hand under her thigh, pulled her leg up, then the other one after it.

Kate raised her eyebrow at him, but he smoothed his hands down her shins, leaned over and kissed her knee.

Bewildered, she stared at him. His thumbs rubbed over her kneecap, but she had no idea what he meant, what his intention was, why he was doing this.

His hand slid down to her ankle, pulled off her sandals, one by one. His thumb and knuckles dug into her arch, then the other, she winced and curled her toes.

"Scoot back, Kate." He was rubbing her feet, his fingers possessive, certain. It had nothing to do with their conversation. It was like he'd abandoned it entirely.

But she moved slowly, easing to the other end of the couch, every movement a flare of newly awakened pain. Damn. The ultrasound therapy didn't usually wear off so quickly.

"See?" he said softly, and though the word sounded an awful lot like her mother's laughing I told you so, his voice was strained.

She hid her eyes behind her hand, took a long breath in. "Yeah." She was still weak; it still hurt to move.

"If you want, we'll look at phone records until neither of us can sit up straight. We'll keep at it. Just in case they need more. But Kate-"

"I get it." She bit her lip and pressed her fingers into her eye, dropped her hand finally. "I know."

"You'll rest?"

"I - I'll do my best."

"All I ask," he murmured, digging his fingers into her calves now, making her eyes close. "The phone records are on the coffee table. Did you want . . .?"

She opened her eyes, turned her head to look at the stacks all over the table. A great hopelessness rose up in her, not because she thought she couldn't do it, but because it was no longer necessary. It was gone, all the urgency was missing but the drive and the need were still hungry in her, and now directionless, restless. But she could barely walk from the cafeteria to their little place without needing a nap. She couldn't even begin to think about picking up those phone records.

"No," she said finally. Her next breath was a shudder of a sigh, too near crying for her own liking. "No. Not - not right now. I can't - I'm so tired."

His hands stilled on her feet; his warmth suddenly disappeared. She opened her eyes and saw him getting to down, kneeling in the floor beside her, a hand lifted, and then he was stroking the side of her face, so gentle, his eyes just too tender, too-

loving.

She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to ignore the knowledge in his eyes. He knew. He understood her.

"I know you're tired," he said, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth, down her chin. Her frown lines.

She lifted her hand, bumped it against his jaw lightly, raised a finger to stroke the scar. He turned his mouth to press his lips against her fingertip. The way his mouth worked, she wondered if parts were still numb.

"I know you're tired, Kate. I know. And now it's time to rest. Finally. Let's just do that for now."

She nodded at him. "For now," she said, her voice dry and cracking, but she could agree to that, to a temporary cessation.

His hand came back to her face, fingers stroking to her ear and sliding through her hair. He lifted her head, pressed his lips to hers.

She sighed into it, slid her arm around his neck and came with him as he leaned back. He chuckled, catching her against his chest, and then he got up, maneuvered them back onto the couch.

Kate laid against him, curled at his side as he settled. His fingers stroked through her hair, over and over, and when, maybe once, it would've driven her crazy, from him, such a needy thing, it was instead soothing.

She could do this for awhile. She really could.

Actually, she could do this forever.

Castle was surprised when she fell asleep against him, but he shouldn't have been. Her physical therapy sessions were always intense, and he had pushed her a lot in the pool the day before, so it might've been worse this morning.

He wished he could pick her up, lay her in bed to let her have a long nap, but for right now, he'd just watch her sleep, wishing he could do more.

The phone records taunted him from the coffee table. But he knew, without a doubt, that his going through them wouldn't do it, wouldn't help her. Because she needed to be the one to bring Markway down - she needed to be the one. It had to be her. And he could help, sure; she wanted him there when it happened, her partner, but she had to make the discovery.

But. Her mother's case was over.

For all intents and purposes, it was done.

They'd reached the end.

She was right. What happened now?

After this. After he made her rest and heal and come back stronger, after he himself felt like he could chew long enough to eat a real meal, what happened then?

She'd go back to the 12th - she'd be the homicide detective she always was: kind, compassionate, fierce, loyal. Maybe without that haunted look in her eyes. Maybe fewer sharp edges, maybe some more downtime, maybe a little ease in her laughter.

He'd be there, of course; he would always be there. But now that there wasn't this connecting them, now that it was over-

he hated that he was thinking it, but he still wondered - Where did he fit in?

Castle sighed, felt the truth of it seep into him.

"Castle?"

He jerked, let out a startled laugh. "I thought you were asleep," he murmured, looking down at her, brushing his fingers through her hair, pulling it away from her eyes.

"No, just - resting."

He pressed his cheek to the top of her head, heard the word resting for what it was from her, a symbol, a sign.

"Why are you sighing like that?" she asked, and her fingers smoothed the slope of his collarbone. Then she pushed against him, sitting up again.

He let her go, even helped her ease up, get her balance. He was angled towards her on the couch and she'd pulled her feet up, sat cross-legged as she regarded him.

"Castle."

He shook his head. "Just - resting too."

She raised an eyebrow, reached out and laid her hand on his knee. "More than that. Sighing like a pouting kid."

He felt his lips twitch and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Okay, so I was thinking some too."

"'Bout what?"

"The end. How this ends. What happens at the end."

She tilted her head at him, as if she didn't understand. Surely she did.

"The end is writing itself, with or without my help," he said, trying to explain. "I have the way I want it to end, and then there's reality. And sometimes with you, those two things don't align."

He smiled at her, hoping she would too, but she didn't.

"You and I-" She paused, regarded him for a moment. "You and I aren't often-"

He waited but she dropped her eyes to their hands, spreading her fingers.

"Hold on a minute," she murmured, and then slowly detached from him, getting to her feet. He moved to stand, but she shook her head, pressed two fingers into the hollow at his throat to keep him there. "Stay. I'll be right back."

At a loss, he watched her make her way, that tight pinch to her face overlaid with determination. She disappeared into her bedroom, came out in a moment with a frown, heading into his room next, apparently looking for something.

He sat up, watching her trek, and then she came out with a little pleased smile on her face, something behind her back. Castle kept his mouth shut because he could see she had a plan in mind, something she wanted to do.

She stood at the end of the couch for a moment, watching him, letting it build, and then she came closer and sank down next to him, that slow and torturous movement that had him itching to help.

Kate drew her knees up again, crossed her legs, back where she'd been only minutes ago. Only this time, if it was possible, a little closer.

"Castle."

He felt his lips smirk, couldn't help the little grin on his face. "Ye-es?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but she was smiling too. "You and I - you and I aren't always on the same page, are we?"

He sucked in a breath, squeezed his hand in a fist on his knee, wondered where she was going with this.

"We miss - miss every summer. I used to wonder . . ." She glanced down, her lip between her teeth. "I used to wonder if we could ever get over that nine month mark. I thought, the moment we did, the year that a summer came around that didn't break us apart-"

"Kate," he murmured, his chest tight as he reached out for her. Her hands were carefully at her side, hidden, so he rested his palm at her knee, tried to wait her out.

"Here's our summer, Castle." She sighed and tilted her head, gave him a wry smile. "It took both of us getting shot to do it, but here it is. We're finally on the same page." She reached out and flipped his hand over, pressed something into his palm.

Castle glanced down.

"Or, well, the same index card," she said softly, a laugh in her voice.

I love you.

He curled his fingers around it, around her hand as well, lifted his eyes to hers. His questions about what happened next - they seemed to become nonexistent at the look on her face.

"Castle," she said. "Whatever happens after this, after the end, we don't. We don't end."

He slid his thumb over her wrist, the card between their palms. His heart was pounding.

"I'm in love with you." And then softer, her eyes warm. "I love you. It won't end."

the end