Close Encounters 9

Castle didn't want to sleep, felt wired instead of tired, but when she'd told him he ought to anyway, he couldn't say no to her. Since he liked being on his back and she seemed to want to curl at his side, they were comfortable at least, even if they were both still awake.

"I thought you were tired," he whispered.

"I am."

"Let go, Kate, honey. Just sleep."

"Can't."

"Stop thinking about it," he insisted. The next few days were going to be brutal, yes, but no point dreading it.

"I really wish you'd rest while you can."

"I'll try. But you know how it goes for me."

"Are you having dreams?" she whispered.

"Of course," he muttered. "Never ending these days."

"You know, Castle, we have a lot of therapy hours logged between the two of us. Bet we could knock it out right here."

He huffed and drew his arm tighter around her. "Just - dreams about white light."

"What?" she said, a little laugh in her voice. "Sorry. Not funny. Go on."

"No, you're right. It is a little. But the concussion I got - I don't know. Pain behind my eyes and then these spots. White spots."

"Are they gone now?" she said quietly, her hand gripping the waistband of his pants.

"Yeah." Mostly. Yes. He'd had an episode right before he'd found her, but he thought that was stress. Fatigue. "Nothing to worry about. But the nightmares are more of that. Only this time it's like - I don't know - I'm flying a plane and I crash into a mountain. White light."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Sometimes you're with me, in the next seat, and sometimes I'm just trying to fly to get you-"

"That's weird. Flying a plane to come get me here?"

He closed his mouth, frowned.

She must have picked up on his unnatural silence because she stiffened. "Castle. You didn't."

"I might have... tried to steal a plane."

"In your dreams."

"Heh," he laughed, half-laughed, not really a laugh. "Um. Yeah, but no. In actual real life, when I woke - look, in my defense, my brain got scrambled pretty hard, Kate. You weren't there, Black was feeding me lies. It made sense at the time."

"It made sense to walk on the leg you almost lost with white spots in your vision and steal a plane?"

He grunted.

"Shit. Castle."

"I got your message. On my phone," he defended. "I got your note and you scared the shit out of me, Kate."

She went quiet for a moment and then her hand flattened out at his abs. "In my defense, my brain got scrambled pretty hard. And I was soaked in your blood, Castle. Soaked. It was coming out of you faster than I could stop it and I knew Black was going to tell you as little as he could get away with and I just - it was the only idea I had."

He sighed and turned onto his side so he could wrap both arms around her, bring her body up close to his. "The plane. It was the only idea I had. And I only made it as far as the tarmac."

"Shit. That you made it that far at all."

"Ditto, sweetheart."

And even after that, they were quiet for a very long time before Castle felt her fall asleep within his arms.

He listened to her breathe and counted the beats of her heart within each minute, reassuring himself.

She had to get going. Enough of this. Time to move.

Beckett handed him back the shake - she really couldn't, not anymore - and then she struggled to get to her feet. She'd had sleep and some nutrients, she was off the IV, and it was time.

"What are you doing?" he said.

"Help me up," she said back, on her knees now and leaning against his shoulders for balance.

Castle automatically reached up and gripped her by the wrists to stabilize her, but he didn't let her stand. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Gotta get moving, Castle."

"Kate."

"You said thirteen days since - and I walked here, obviously, but it's been five or six since I got here and I need to get a little more - conditioned."

The way his eyes shuttered told her he hadn't quite thought through all the details of the last thirteen days; she wished he still hadn't.

"Help me up, Rick," she said quietly.

"We can do muscle manipulations sitting down," he said back. "PT stuff. Build up your-"

"I have to walk out of here in about 24 hours. There's no time for endurance training. You know it and I know it. So help me up."

He did, which told her that he'd already worked it out for himself as well, how tight they were cutting this, how difficult it was going to be. He hadn't known what he'd find, and what had he expected? To carry her out of here and cross the border like that?

Right.

She nearly sank back down to her knees when he got her standing. Beckett locked onto his forearms even as he gripped her by the elbows, and she swayed there for too long a moment, just getting adjusted to being upright. Her thighs quivered, the muscles shaking as they hit a wall. She'd heard it was easier to come back from traumatic injuries if a body was already fit and in shape to begin with. She needed that to be true.

"Tell me a story," he said on a breath.

She groaned and leaned back from him, took a shuffling step away. "Walk me around," she said back.

"You gotta talk to me so I know you're not passing out."

"I will. Just - start." She knew he was thinking to get her out of breath, wheezing, that it would be a measurement to them both for how weak she was. That was fine, probably smart. Pushing it too far was a bad idea at this stage.

Castle wrapped his arm low around her waist and came at her side, easing them forward. The blue light of the flashlight glowed like ghost fingers across the rocks, and she let her head rest against his shoulder as they started a slow circuit of the cave.

"Talk, Beckett."

"I wanna go to a baseball game when I get back."

He grunted.

"With my dad. And I want you to come," she said, swallowing down the wild thrashing of her heart in her throat. She'd taken two steps. Two steps and her heart was going to fling itself out of her body.

"Okay. I'm not really into sports - isn't baseball boring?"

"It's not boring," she exclaimed, but she was losing breath and leaning hard into him. His hands flexed around her.

"Sure, but it's... slow."

"It's a thinking man's game. You'd like it if you gave it a chance."

"Do we have to go to the Yankees?"

"No, no, we're Mets fans. The old Shea Stadium - I have the best memories of games with my father."

"Oh yeah? What about your mom?"

"Not her thing."

He grunted beside her and she felt the panicky sensation of looming unconsciousness crawling up her spine. Her palms were sweaty, her eyes dimming. So not good.

"Talk to me, Beckett."

"I... I think-"

"Okay, all right. Enough," he growled out, and he dropped them both to one knee immediately. She slumped into him and he scooped her up, carried her far too easily back towards the sleeping bag.

She was going to faint.

He propped her feet up on his shoulder and leaned into her, his thumb brushing along her forehead, wiping away sweat.

"You don't need to get dehydrated," he growled.

"I know. I'm not. I'm not," she promised, closing her eyes as the world slowly shifted back. "But you know I gotta do this."

He was silent for a long time before he spoke. "Fine. Sleep for a couple hours and then I'll get you up and we'll walk. Okay?"

She sighed out, relief pouring through her body. "Yes, yes. Okay."

They had to get moving. She had to get moving.

They walked.

"Full circuit," he said, studying her. She looked sick with fatigue but too determined to stop.

"Is that pride in your voice?" she mumbled against his shoulder. She was canting badly, and he was practically holding all her weight, but her legs were moving.

It counted.

"Yes," he answered. "Don't twist my ear for it."

"I like your ears. They're soft."

"Beckett, are you slap-happy?"

"With exhaustion maybe," she sighed out.

The cave was lit with blue, the light still strong. He wished he'd had access to LED but he'd been in a hurry and he'd packed the supplies he could get his hands on. They'd have to turn off the flashlight in a few minutes.

"Still like your ears though," she said.

He would laugh but he had a restlessness running through his blood. To get on the move. She was right - she was always the one to look at a thing head on and put it bluntly. They had to go. He wanted only to let her sleep and heal and regain her strength, but they didn't have the luxury. They never did.

"A few more feet," he said, nudging at her hip to get her moving. She shuffled forward, a line of tension radiating down her body. "Come on, Beckett. Sleeping bag awaits."

"I love that sleeping bag. Can we keep it?"

"Sure," he said easily. Whatever she wanted. Anything to have her look forward to getting home. "Want me to bring home some of those nutrition shakes?"

"Hell, no," she growled back.

He did laugh at that, a hand rising quickly to catch her shoulder before she could pitch too far forward. She grunted but took the last few steps, her breath whistling in her lungs, her body damp with sweat.

"Good job, you got it," he let out, the relief pouring from him as well. He sank them slowly to the sleeping bag, a tight grip on her as her muscles seemed to refuse to work, and then he was falling to one elbow with her, cradling her over him.

"Sorry, sorry," she murmured.

"It's okay. I got you."

He laid there for a long second, catching his breath as well, running his fingers up and down the knobs of her spine. She was so thin. Her skin shifted and rolled right over every ridge of bone, no fat to hold it in place. He could feel every caught breath, every expanse of her ribs, and he moved his feet slowly down to the foot of the sleeping bag, arranged them both into a more comfortable position.

"I'm okay now," she murmured at his neck. Her fingers were shaking against his chest, actual tremors that he could feel.

"You should drink one of the protein shakes," he said quietly. "Rebuilds muscle after a workout."

She grunted and he knew the idea wasn't attractive at all right now, that the last thing she wanted to do was put more food in her stomach, but instead of saying no she just rolled onto her back.

"Yeah. Okay."

He rose to one elbow and dug around in the pack, used the blue light to find the right one. The protein shakes - he'd intended to give them to her on the trip back out of here, but he had underestimated the need.

His fault. He'd been so hellbent on getting the fuck out of the hospital that he hadn't taken the time to think it all the way through. He'd gotten close, but he should've remembered-

"You should have one," she said suddenly.

"What?" he muttered, distracted as he squeezed the pack to mix the contents.

"Castle, I haven't seen you eat anything since you got here. Nearly two full days."

"I'm okay."

"Don't do this, Rick."

He paused, his hand tight around the protein shake.

"If you're not - I'm depending on you to do most of the work here," she said quietly, her voice scraping. "That turn we took around the cave just proved I'm not going to be able to keep our usual pace. You're gonna have to start using the shakes as well. Start now, give yourself a boost, and then go back on rations."

It made sense. Damn it, she always made sense.

"You know I'm right."

"I know," he said finally.

Castle sat up and used his knife to puncture the foil package, turned finally to hand it to her. She was watching him so closely.

"Here," he said. "I'll drink with you."

She let out a sigh and reached a shaky hand for the package. Their fingers brushed and that same spark of electric and gut-twisting energy curled between them. His whole body aligning and orienting and needing hers.

He had to get her out of here. He had to.

She wanted to go with him this time.

Kate could tell by his voice that he wasn't at all happy about the idea, but she was determined. While he'd slept, she'd gotten up and done more walking, another circuit of the cave all by herself - in the dark no less. And even though she'd had to stop and lean against the rock more times than she could count, even though she'd stubbed her toes on every single outcropping of stone imaginable - she'd made it.

She was going with him.

By the thrumming tension in his voice, she thought Castle's jaw was so tight he might grind right through his enamel. "No. Kate. No."

"I'm coming with you," she said again.

"Kate. It's not a walk. It's crawling through that tunnel and then over the rocks just to make a perimeter check."

"I know that. I have to do it tomorrow. Might as well do it today."

"How long have you been awake?" he muttered.

"Long enough to finish off another shake," she said, and she knew she'd surprised him.

"You did?"

"Yes."

The darkness without the flashlight was so deep, so immutable, that Castle - in her mind's eye - was as fixed as the rock walls.

"Rick, I have to do what I can now when I've got the chance to rest afterwards. We both need to know how bad it's going to be, how much work it's going to take."

"I already know. It'll take forever," he said roughly.

"Then leave me in the tunnel to do your perimeter check-"

"Woman, clearly you have lost your mind. Because leaving you in that tunnel will never happen. Never. Gonna. Happen."

She smiled into the dark, the unrelenting black, smiled because he loved her and he was fierce about her and he kept her safe from herself. But she could push him; she could always make him do the right thing.

"I'm coming with you," she said again.

The flashlight switched on and illuminated a pool of light around them. In the shadows, she could just make out the grim set to his face as he sat opposite her.

"Well, come on then," he said, lifting to his feet. He held out his hand for her and she smiled up at him, clasped her fingers around his wrist in a tight grip.

He hauled her up in one powerful movement and she brushed against his chest before she found her feet.

"Thank you," she whispered.

His mouth coasted at her ear for a breath. "Don't thank me yet."

Castle was ahead of her only because he had to move the rocks out of the way; she couldn't do it herself, not like she was, and he had to stop every few feet and wait for her to catch up.

It was agonizing. He had no idea how the hell they were going to make it out of Russia with her like this.

She managed to make it to the scree of rocks and she closed her fingers around his ankle in wordless confirmation. Castle silently began shifting the blind, creating a gap for them to slide through, passing rocks back to her so she could spread them out along the tunnel. Less room with both of them cramped inside and so he needed her help.

"Hold on," she murmured when he offered back another.

He paused, listening to her breathing in the blue darkness. The light was mostly hidden by his own bulk, a little unsteady in her hand, but enough shone through that he could see what he was doing.

"Kate."

"I got it," she breathed out. He felt her fingers now fumbling against his and then she had it, and he heard it drag against the rock floor of the tunnel as she pushed it past them.

He swallowed hard and kept working at the scree, pulling rocks from the closed up entrance and trying to ignore the sound of her labored breathing behind him.

"That's the last one," he said quietly. "Leave it there."

She let out a puff of air at that and Castle began crawling over the remnants, wondering how in the world she'd be able to do this, drag herself over these rocks. Tomorrow he'd clear the whole pile, leave it completely free so that she only had to crawl on her hands and knees over the smooth floor.

But could they waste her energy that way? Clearing a bunch of damn rocks.

No. Tomorrow he'd go ahead of her, make her wait in the cavern while he cleared the whole pile of them faster without her clogging the tunnel. That was it. Okay.

So yes, this had been a good idea. A dry run so they'd know what she was capable of, how to maneuver.

"Go, Castle," she panted.

He grunted and realized she'd made it over the rocks a good deal faster than he'd expected. "You okay?"

"Really tired of being trapped."

"Yeah," he grunted out, scuttling forward quickly and pausing only a heartbeat at the entrance before spilling out into the wider cave.

He turned around and stooped down, reached back in and gripped Beckett by the arms, half carried her out. She got to her feet and swayed, her eyes closed as she hung on to him, and he took a moment to let her get it together.

"You got this," he murmured at her ear.

"Not sure," she whispered.

"You got it, Kate. You can do it." He wrapped his arm around her waist for support and she slumped into his embrace, knocking him off balance, not ready for it. She grunted but he had her, he had her, and he kept her propped up.

"Sorry," she breathed out.

"Long as you need it."

"My dumb idea."

"Good one though," he murmured back, brushing a kiss to her temple. He was surprised she hadn't asked to get cleaned up, to wash her hair out, and he was taking it as a huge sign that she wasn't ready. She didn't feel good enough. Not to wash her hair, and not to walk out of here either.

What the hell were they going to do?

It seemed impossible.

Home was further away from her now than it had been in the last thirteen days.

She closed her eyes and felt her knees buckling, but Castle leaned back against the sloping rock wall of the cave, shifting his knee between hers to hold her up.

She sighed out against his chest and buried her nose into the skin and sweat smell of him, tried to push out everything else until she could get a grip on herself. Get a handle on this, get used to how wasted her body was after so long curled up on the floor of that cavern.

Shit. She'd choked down charred wolf meat and alternated between shakily vomiting and passing out for the last... five days? No idea. How much of that meat had actually made it into her system, she couldn't even guess.

"How're you doing?" he rumbled at her ear.

She gripped his biceps and swallowed down the discouragement. He was counting on her; she knew he'd never leave her to go get reinforcements, resupply, none of that. He'd kill himself trying to get her out of here - so she had to be better than this.

The responsibility of that alone made her want to cry.

"Go outside," she said then. "Can we?"

"Of course," he said, his fingers tightening at the back of her skull.

She lifted her head and turned towards the front of the cave, inhaling the smell of rock and cold, the faint taste of water in the air. He kept an arm slung around her waist and half carried her towards the front, but she was determined to move her feet, to make the effort even if he was doing most of the work.

When the light began to filter through to them, she remembered the flashlight and thumbed it off, her hands trembling. She pushed it towards Castle and he snagged it from her right before she could drop it; he slipped it into a pocket of his pants.

Kate reached out a hand for the rock wall, trailing her fingers along its dry and scratching edges, watching the light grow.

God, the sunlight.

"What time's it?" she said, clearing her throat when the words tangled.

"Around six in the morning," he answered. "Maybe closer to seven now."

She nodded and tried to keep from stumbling over the rougher parts of the cavern floor where it looked like the very earth itself had grit its teeth and then opened a mouth to the sky.

She let out a long, shaky breath and swayed at the entrance, her eyes riveted on the flash of shimmering pearl, the way the earth lent color to the sky. The wash of light flooded over her as she took a step forward but Castle was pushing past her.

"Wait a moment," he breathed.

She slowly slid her eyes to him, watched the way the light touched him as he slipped out of the cave. His hair was a halo, his ears pink in the morning sun, and the violent blue of the sky made her whole being ache.

She sank to her knees even as he scouted the entrance; her hands were pressed against the sun-warmed rock and the vista before her wheeled and spun out, making her dizzy.

"Russians on our two o'clock. Have to be-" Castle turned. "Kate."

She blinked and shifted her gaze to him, the light licking along his body. She rocked forward and felt the sun on her face, the burn of its touch along her cheeks, her forehead, and even though it couldn't be all that warm and the air was still chilled, she closed her eyes and soaked it in.

"Kate," he murmured, and she felt his fingers caress her neck.

"Sit with me," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"A few minutes," he gave in, and she felt his arm come around her.

She listed into the broad warmth of his body and let the sunlight work magic over her.

Castle sighed when she fell asleep against him, his chest tight with the sight of her curled up in the sun. He'd not seen her in full light, just the forgiving beam of the flashlight, and now-

Oh, God, it was bad.

She'd always been on the border of too-thin, her body hard and taut as a wire, whipcord strength. But the muscle tone had gone as well as whatever thin layer of fat she might have had. As she breathed slowly against him, he could see the harsh angle of her collarbones, feel the jut of her ribs. The knobs of her wrists were wider than her ulna and radius, her fingers were skeletal.

Shit. Shit. It just - it was bad. She looked scary malnourished, and he was struggling to keep from dragging her back into that cave and force-feeding her for the foreseeable future.

Her face was so narrow, so angular that he worried about her vision, about renal failure. Because those necessary organs - eyes and kidneys - required the fat to hold them in place, keep their sensitive conduits and nerves and tubes open and functioning.

It was that bad.

Had been, he reminded himself. Had been bad.

It wasn't now. She'd gotten 36 hours of IV fluids and she'd already downed four nutrition shakes plus a handful of crackers. He had peanut butter in his pack as well and he'd make her eat that with the crackers next. Start putting some richer fats into her body.

And then everything else. The starvation was one thing but the battered state of her body made her look like she'd been through a war.

The angry teeth marks on her forearm had begun to heal though, now that he'd cleaned it. He would bandage it before they left, make sure she didn't get dirt in the wound. He reminded himself to check her hip later too, see if he could maybe take the stitches out. He wouldn't try to do it again; he'd just have to make an assessment over whether or not the skin would hold together.

But it wasn't just those major wounds - it was her whole appearance. The sun was brutally revealing, and he could see the story of her survival stamped deep in her body - the scars and battles, the effort of existence.

Her face was scratched up, her arms crisscrossed by lines of dried blood and welts, the sting of shrub brush and rock. The scrapes on her face went down her neck and disappeared under the flimsy white shirt. She had to be cold out here, the sun wasn't warm by any means, but her exhaustion had subsumed even that response and had left her heavy against him, revealed to his eyes.

The thin and bloodied fingers curled at his leg, the bruised look to her skin, the gnarled and matted tangle of her hair conspired to break his heart.

She was breaking his heart.

Castle stroked gently across the line of a scratch that marred her cheek, followed it down her jaw to where it tapered just at her neck.

His hand was shaking.

Seeing her like this made him want to blow things up, take down the whole damn Russian Army camped just outside their cave. It made him want to rage.

And if he couldn't fucking destroy something, then he wanted to cradle her against him and use his body as a shield, protect her, hide her away from the world, nourish her until she was strong again. Until the wounds were healed and her spirit strong and the scars had completely melted away.

But he couldn't do that either.

The only thing he could do was the one thing he abhorred.

He had to wake her up and get her moving; they had to get out of here.

She couldn't rest. Not yet. Not for a good long while.

They had to leave.

So ends Close Encounters 9: Tomorrow Never Dies

Stay Tuned for Close Encounters 10: The Living Daylights

Uh-oh.

Russians. On the steppe. Dead ahead.

"Drop, Kate," he hissed, reaching back and dragging her down with him.

Castle felt her land on top of him, his back crunching hard against the rocky ground, his elbows jarred where they met the earth. She was breathing hard over him, and he cradled the back of her head as he turned them, laying over her now, bracing himself on his raw elbows.

He had to stop paying more attention to her than to their surroundings. His fault.

He felt her hand slide down his back, shove against the pack tight at his spine, and then her fingers tucked into his pants and drew his weapon.

He froze.

She brought the gun between them and her eyes were glittering in the darkness. Wordless, she handed it over to him and he took it slowly, wrapping his fingers around the grip.

And then he saw she had the knife.

That scared the shit out of him. These guys were not getting close enough for Beckett to use that damn knife. Her fucking hand was shaking. No way. No.

He gritted his teeth and pressed his knee down into her wrist at her hip, kept her there; he felt her curl under him, a brief struggle, and then she released her fingers and dropped the knife.

When he was sure, he let his knee up and kept his eyes on the three men making their slow way across the rocks. He couldn't tell from this distance if they were Army for sure, but their lack of formation and the general looseness to their walk made him think not.

Beneath him, Kate let out a long breath and sucked in another one, so he lowered his head to hers, their cheeks brushing so that his mouth was at her ear.

"Natives, sweetheart. We'll just hunker down here and keep out of their way."

She let out a quick breath and then her fingers were wrapping at the back of his knee in a grip so tight, so fierce, that he'd never forget.

Never.

How the relief poured out of her.

X