Close Encounters 11: For Your Eyes Only

for those of you
who waited

Kate Beckett stepped out onto the back patio alone, closed her eyes to feel the soft touches of Rome's sunlight against her skin.

She'd gained five pounds over the past week, holed up in their Italian apartment, and it was time to finally head home. Castle had gone to pack the last of their luggage into the rental car that would take them to the little landing strip outside of the city, but she wanted this moment to say good-bye.

She'd spent the last nine days shoring up her defenses, she and Castle patching the holes in her walls with the cement of good food, good love... Also a lot of sarcasm and tenderness, his hand in hers, the cool nights with the windows open and his words in her ear as they laid in bed together. He told her stories to banish the nightmares and the rhythm of his voice kept her in calm, steady seas. They made love to that same motion, came together like breakers on the shore, drained and washed clean.

Her bodily systems had been so messed up at first, and her heart so broken, that they hadn't thought about anything other than having no barriers between them, nothing other than each other, that connection they had both needed. Affirmation found in the press of skin.

And then a few days ago, they'd realized that they'd stopped actively preventing it even if they weren't really trying.

To get pregnant.

They weren't trying.

And she wasn't pregnant. She knew that much, because her body wasn't back to normal yet, and her cycle was pretty much nonexistent. She couldn't, and she wasn't, but-

Kate opened her eyes and smiled out at the garden, the smell of basil so strong that it made her stomach growl.

She could eat. That was saying something.

She shifted forward and ran her fingers through the basil plant, the twin leaves bowing to her touch. She couldn't help plucking a fresh shoot and holding it to her nose, the familiar scent that brought to mind the golden sunlight and her husband cooking in the kitchen, the vivid expression in his eyes when she'd been able to eat a whole meal without pause.

She heard the door slide open and turned her head to see Castle coming through, a smile of his own gracing his lips as he looked at her. "Taking some for the road?"

She glanced down at the sprig and shrugged. "I love the way it smells. Maybe I'll use it as a bookmark, remind me of this place."

"Well, we're packed. You ready?"

She let her teeth work at her bottom lip, watching him because she could, because he was here, and so was she, and it felt so good here. "Just gonna take a moment. Soak it up."

Castle took a step back like he was going to give her some privacy, his fingers on the sliding door.

But Kate held her hand back towards him, wriggled her fingers with the sunlight licking her shoulders. "Don't go. Stay out here with me."

Something powerful rippled over his face, something intense, and he reached for her hand like he was in awe. "Kate," he rasped. "You're a dream."

She didn't understand it, but she did. It was this place. She loved them in this place. Loved herself. She didn't know what New York would bring, what finally being home might do to her.

But with Castle at her side, his hand still strong around hers, Kate scanned the garden, the riot of green herbs and flowering trees, and then beyond the little patio to the world outside. And she knew she could do it.

In the airport in London, so close now, Castle didn't try to push her as they walked towards their gate; he did keep his hand at her lower back though, fingers running up and down her spine, glad for the briefest of touches.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, her lashes haloed by the light coming through the terminal's floor-to-ceiling windows. He didn't think it was hesitance or nerves. Instead it was more like a certain and closed-off strength, a way of keeping herself firmly in control, balanced, poised.

He wasn't sure if he could still reach her through that wall, but he didn't want to try. Not this moment. When they were alone and safe, when they were home, finally home, he'd bring her back to him.

Kate made a motion towards the massive windows, the blue sky beyond. "Lucky to have clear skies in the spring," she said.

He nodded, giving the view only a partial glance, returning his gaze to her. "Worried about turbulence?"

"Wasn't until you said it." She gave him a crooked tilt of her eyebrow that passed for irony, and then she shrugged. "I'm just grateful for the warmth."

Since Russia. "At least it was spring there too," he murmured. It could have been so much worse. She hadn't any lasting damage from frostbite; even though the nights had been brutal, the Russian steppe had been transitioning to planting season. They'd passed so many hay fields on their way out that he'd never be able to look at farmland the same again.

"What do the say? March goes in like a lion-?"

"Out like a lamb?" he chuckled. "Yeah. You got pounced on by March."

Kate laughed as well, her eyes grass green, spring green. "But April brought you."

His smile dropped from his face, but he slid his fingers from her elbow to her hand, taking it with only a mild clutch of panic. He tried to keep it from her though, tried to stow it away. This was about Kate.

"And I was so glad to see you," she sighed. "Even if I had no idea what month it was-"

Her sudden silence, the jerk of her hand against his had him slowing down, heart heavy, and finally looking back at her.

"Oh God," she whispered.

He came for her, grabbing her by the shoulders and tugging her out of the stream of people. "Kate, no-"

"Your birthday."

"I got my wish. You're here."

"Oh, God, Castle."

"It's okay," he whispered fiercely, running a hand up to squeeze the back of her neck. "I'm okay. I was unconscious for it anyway, I'm sure."

"But it was your birthday." Her forehead crashed into his and he really hoped this wasn't what did it, wasn't the thing to break her, because it was just a damn day.

"Well, the world played a nasty joke on me when I woke up, but at least I got back to you."

Her arms came around him for a crushing grip, her mouth painting his cheeks, his eyelids, like he was the one who needed comfort.

"Hey, now, love," he murmured, petting her hair, rubbing his thumbs over her cheekbones. She wasn't crying, at least. "Hey. It's okay. I'm okay."

She lifted away from him, and her eyes were shiny so that the green was the bright sunlight after a rainy day in the park, but she gave him a smile and gently leaned in to sip at his lips. Such a soft kiss that he felt his guts washing away.

"We'll have a re-do," she murmured. "Celebrate your birthday at home." She pulled back only to come in once more for another kiss. "Come on, Rick. Let's get there already."

He smiled, wanted to kiss her forehead and her cheeks, worship that unceasing and indomitable spirit, but instead he let her turn him around, draw him down the concourse. Their joined hands bumped each other's thighs as they walked, but it was an easy gait, and her mood lifted, the haze burning off under the sunlight that streamed through the windows and the relentless crush of people buzzed with energy for their travels.

Kate stopped at their gate and checked her boarding pass, glanced to him. "This is it."

He nodded.

She scanned the crowd, her eyes taking in everything, and then she nodded towards a space of empty floor in front of the window. "There?"

"Yeah. Looks good." I'm okay; I promise. I'm okay.

She seemed to receive the message because she let go of his hand and shifted towards the crowded gate. He followed Kate down the narrow aisles of filled seats, stepping over a suitcase, maneuvering around a little boy. Kate finally stopped near a broad window and her cheeks were illuminated with sun; she turned and smiled that soft, barely there smile.

This time though, he thought it touched the corners of her eyes, thought maybe the flick of her hand towards him meant more.

He reached her side and laced their fingers together again, smiled at her and let it say everything.

Her thumb brushed over the back of his hand and then she slowly sat down on the floor to wait, bringing him with her since there was no room in the chairs. With all that light spilling around her, she looked aflame - like a candle - and he knew he was right. His only wish had come true.

Castle buckled his seatbelt and glanced over to make sure she was still with him. Kate was tightening the belt across her lap and brushing two fingers over her hip where he knew the scar had to be. Grazed by a bullet in a motel room during a shoot out with Vadim - a lifetime ago. How odd that the tragedy and darkness of that mission had been eclipsed by a span of thirteen days.

Her face turned towards the windows - he'd bought them first class tickets home - and she tucked her hair behind her ear once more. It was beginning to be a thing, he realized. Comfort, a chance to pause and regroup, a mental breath. The one tell on her otherwise stoic face.

He reached between their seats and almost snagged her hand. Almost. But he let his arm drop back to the blue of the cushion, just watched her. She folded her hands in her lap and sat erect, as if she couldn't quite relax. Couldn't quite settle.

She turned her head then and pierced him with a gaze that saw too much. Her eyes softened and her shoulders eased; she reached out and wrapped her hand around his knee.

"How are you?" she murmured.

He huffed and shook his head, but he took a second to actually let it rise to the surface - how he was. He wasn't that great, actually; he might be more nervous than she was. But he wanted to be home already, wanted to have her safe behind their door, their alarm, where he could shield her.

"I'm good," he said finally. "I want to get there."

She didn't nod, didn't agree, only studied him with those too knowing eyes. Her hand on his knee squeezed, and so he slipped his fingers under hers and held on. She watched him still, tenderness and love and a haze of things he couldn't understand in her face. He lifted the back of her hand to his lips and kissed her, closed his eyes to breathe the scent of her skin. Honey and cream, the faint scent of basil from the back patio.

"And you?" he whispered.

Her fingers spread from his grip and stroked along his cheek, a spark now in her eyes. "I'll make it."

His heart lifted despite himself and he smiled back at her, deeply, felt the catch of it tightening in his throat.

"All I ask," he rasped, nodding once.

And then the plane pushed back from the gate.

Kate pressed her fingertips to her lips and inhaled the scent of Italian herbs still lingering on her skin. Her elbow jolted on the armrest as she rode through the turbulence, surprised at how it got to her. It would be just her luck that they'd fall out of the sky now that she was so close. The window shade was up, the clouds outside that concrete-soup-grey of a storm developing, and the plane jolted again as it hit an air pocket.

They were fifteen minutes from the airport at JFK. Fifteen minutes from landing. Being home. Her stomach dropped out from under her as the plane shivered once more, but she refused to believe it would keep her from getting home.

She was going home. Nothing could stop her.

Beside her - of course - Castle was completely at ease. Nothing fazed him. He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow in question, but she shook her head.

She was fine.

The pilot came over the intercom and announced their descent into New York airspace; the seatbelt light came on. Kate pushed her head back against the seat and lowered her lashes, breathed through the sensation of falling.

Castle's hand came to rest over hers in her lap. The heaviness of his arm against her thigh and stomach did something to settle her that she hadn't realized she needed.

"Castle," she said, opening her eyes to him.

His hand squeezed around hers.

"Thank you."

He didn't ask why, didn't pretend he didn't know. He just nodded and gave her a small smile, went back to the book he'd swiped from her carryon and had begun to read. She could smell the basil leaf he was using as a bookmark and it quieted her rabbit heart.

The plane jolted against the tarmac, the push and screech of braking, and the breath leaked out of her lungs. Then the plane slowed, rolling at a milder speed, a controlled, hobbled thing once more.

"New York," she whispered, couldn't help the grin that slid across her face and widened, like a crack opening up.

"We're home," he said then.

She turned her head to him and beamed, making him laugh, making him alight with her relief, and then he reached across the seats and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

Even with their suitcase loaded into the trunk of the taxi cab, and his urgent need to just get her home, she managed to convince him to stop for Chinese at her favorite place. From the street, he could tell Haun Palace was crowded - the line would be long even for take out. Kate left him in the back of the cab to go in and order while the taxi circled the block again and again until she appeared with their food.

"Proud of you," she whispered when she slid in beside him. "You didn't text me once to see if I was still alive in there."

He grunted and shook his head, elbowed her to take the bag from her hands. "I'm managing my anxiety, thank you very much."

"You're doing so good, baby."

He gave up and laughed, leaning back in the cab as it headed for their drop-off point. Now more than ever he was grateful for his paranoia because it meant he could be certain that their address was still so clandestine, off-books, that no one could get to them. Even though it required them getting dropped at subway stations and switching lines with a suitcase in tow, he didn't care.

Peace of mind was priceless.

"Guess what?" she said then.

"Hm?"

"I'm starving," she laughed, casting sly eyes towards him.

He could take it. And he could dish it out too. "Well, you'd know what that felt like, wouldn't you?"

She burst with laughter then, collapsing a little into his side, and he marveled at the transformation that had taken place the moment their plane had landed at JFK. Light. Loose. Happy. Not quite giggling, but the laugh was infectious.

She'd wanted to be home more fervently than he had, despite needing to stop in Rome to recover.

"I'm proud of you," he said then, seriously, stroking his hand down her arm and squeezing. "For stopping us in Rome because you needed it, even if you didn't want it. That takes guts, Kate."

She shifted back against the seat, her smile fading, but she nodded and kept her eyes on him. And he realized, like an idiot, that her joke when she'd gotten back inside the cab hadn't been a joke.

She was proud of him too.

"We've come a long way, baby," she said, smiling slowly at him. "And seriously, I really am starving. You need to get me home and feed me, Castle."

He glanced through the windshield towards the congested avenue ahead of them, the long night and the neon, the people crowding as they snaked at the outskirts of Time Square. She wanted to get home, and they could afford to shave a few minutes here and there.

So he leaned in to the driver. "Hey, actually. Changed my mind. Drop us at St John's Park," he said.

Kate pressed her shoulder to his and put her mouth to his ear. "Castle. That's only blocks from us."

He nodded. "I want to get home. You mind?"

She studied him a moment longer, the lights sliding across her face as the traffic opened up. "No. I don't mind at all."

Their fingers tangled as they walked up Broome Street. She kept marveling at the sidewalk, the houses closed up for the night, the trees in their square planters. A different world. She was a woman who'd forgotten how to transition between them, spy and civilian, but she could find it again, that ease Castle had always had wherever he went.

"You wanna do the honors?" he said then. He had their bag over his shoulder as they walked, and while she knew he didn't love how conspicuous it was, he'd gotten her home rather quickly. Compared to their usual routine.

She took the keys from his hand. "Yeah. Love to."

Their stoop, the flat steps leading to their front door were right before them. The blue-toned brick wrapped the narrow street-profile of their house, while the white shutters with their scalloped edges made it singular on the block. The late evening twilight had framed it with nostalgia, and she found herself holding her breath.

Castle shrugged under the strap of the bag and she mounted the steps with him at her back. The keys jangled in her hand when she turned to look at him.

"The alarm?"

"Code's the alternate. We lost our phones, so I switched it when we were in Germany. Just got online with a secure laptop. You remember the number?"

"Of course." She couldn't help the amusement that rolled through her, or the way his security procedures soothed something dark still deep inside her. She slotted the key into the lock without hesitation.

The tumblers flipped and she pushed the door open, shouldered her way inside to stand, struck, in the foyer as the alarm pulsed red and waiting, and the sunlight shattered through the stained glass into golds, greens, and blues across the floor.

She was home.

Castle nudged her elbow and she moved almost automatically to the alarm panel, pressed the alternate code - his mother's birthday - into the keypad to disarm the system. She heard him shutting the door behind her and she dropped her keys over the elephant's upraised trunk, the ceramic figure he'd placed on the entry table so long ago.

It smelled like home. Laundry and wood polish and the two of them.

Studying the foyer, she caressed the elephant's head, the sweep of its tusks, and then she turned to Castle with a smile that had to be as radiant as his own.

"Looking good, Mrs. Rodgers," he murmured at her, dropping their bag at the foot of the stairs. He held up their take-out order with his other hand, wriggled his eyebrows. "Ready for dinner and some reality tv?"

She stepped into him, pushed her mouth to his in a kiss, had to come back for another before she could quite leave those satin-soft lips. She felt weary to the bone, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep for another week, but she pushed it aside. "We gonna fool around on the Ugly Couch?" she whispered.

"Heavy petting or all the way?"

"I think you might get lucky," she teased, tilting her head back to look at him. "We'll see what your fortune cookie says."

"Ooh, yes. Prosperous times are right around the corner - in bed."

She laughed at that and slid her arms around him, breathing in deeply, letting her eyes travel the lines of their home, the wood and stone and paint that made up something so central, so essential to her peace. She'd needed Rome, but she'd needed this too. It was strange how her heart could be torn into so many different places, and yet be solidly right here inside this man.

"We'll take it easy tonight," he said softly, a warning. "But I won't say no to messing around."

"And tomorrow we can go pick up my dog?" she whispered, nudging her mouth against his ear.

"Of course. I've missed that dog."

She closed her eyes and took another fortifying breath at his neck, stepped back with her smile now more firmly rooted. "Let's get plates, forks. And some wine. I could really go for a couple bottles."

He shook his head with a tsk to his voice. "A glass, Beckett. You heard what they said. Liver can't handle it."

She shrugged, as if she might not obey, and then turned and dashed for the kitchen.

And to her delight, Castle made chase.

He caught her at the doorway to the kitchen and hauled her back to his chest, her little shriek of breathless laughter jolting him like a current. He carried her, wriggling ineffectively against his chest, to sit her up on the counter, bracketing her hips on either side with his fists. Her stubborn and amused chin tilted up as she looked down her nose at him, so he took a kiss from her mouth, a deeper one, kept her hips under his hands even as she twined her legs around his waist.

She felt good. Her grip was weaker than he liked, but she was on her way.

Kate nibbled his bottom lip and her stomach growled, made them both laugh. "What'd you do with our food, super spy?"

He startled and glanced to his empty hands - or rather, hands filled with the sharp edges of her hipbones. "Oops."

Her laughter was a hum as she unwound her legs from his. "Go find it."

"I think I dropped the bag in the foyer." He grinned and came back for one more kiss, the richness of her lips drawing him, and then he went to look for their food. He found their take-out on the entry table, fortunately still in its bag, and scooped it up, calling out to her.

"I got it. Get our plates and stuff?" He opened the bag in their living room and started setting out boxes of food - lo mein, fried rice, steamed veggies, shrimp and pork and chicken. She'd gotten a ton of food and it made him happy to see it, happy to know she was so hungry - so eager to eat - that she'd picked one of nearly everything on their menu. All her dreams at night about milkshakes and Starbucks, double chocolate muffins and spaghetti - he'd done his best to fulfill. Chinese had been her latest.

He remembered his father being so completely appalled when Castle had first started eating this stuff, his regimen diet going right off the rails because of her. Beckett would drag him to Huan's and they'd order a couple of things and swap, share food, battle for it on her couch until chopsticks were brandished and she was wrestling him for the last fortune cookie. Back when they'd first partnered up, back when it was Remy's veggie burgers for lunch and Huan's for dinner at her apartment so they could work on her mother's case, so he could prove to her how good they could be, how good they already were.

At that moment, Kate came out of the kitchen with her hands full and he jumped up to help her, taking the wine and glasses. He was pleased to see she'd brought bottles of water as well, and she saw him looking pleased because she rolled her eyes and pushed him to sit on the couch.

They'd come such a long way from those dark nights at her place; back then he hadn't even begun to understand just how good it was with her.

Castle poured a single glass of wine for them both and put the bottle back in the kitchen while Kate messed with the television, trying to find a good show. He came back to see her looking distressed, a hand scraped through her hair, a wail coming out of her mouth that made his blood freeze. She turned wild eyes to him.

He had to resist the instinct to reach for his gun.

"Castle, our DVR is full and it stopped recording. We missed four episodes."

He stared. "What?"

"You and I haven't been back to our house - together - in so long that the DVR is full. It stopped recording."

Castle let out an explosive breath and sank to the couch, laughing hollowly as his panic crested and drained away. She touched his shoulder, fingers to the back of his neck, came closer.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I was messing with you."

"It's not full?" he rasped, lifting his head.

"Oh, baby, it's full all right. It's just not that big a deal to miss four... You do realize we really haven't been back here together in months, right? Since the New Year, really. I came back in February, had Sasha with me here alone for a week, and then came out for the op that landed us in Russia. My little sabbatical."

"Shit."

"Uh-huh. We owe Carrie big time."

"We should buy her a car," he huffed. But he'd been floored by her oh-so-casual term my little sabbatical. He got gallows humor - he really did - but sometimes Beckett made feel like a pansy.

"At least a car," she agreed, her fingers playing in his hair again, curling around his neck. "But it brings up a good point. We have to cut back on our travel."

"Yeah," he said immediately. "I know. I'd already assumed - before we left - that Russia was going to be one of our last ops for the year. Usually it's two a year for someone in my position, and you're supposed to be working with a handler - which has been me, will only be me-"

"You're cute," she murmured, clearly not thinking he was cute at all. "But I'm not just talking about that."

"What then?" he asked, bewildered as he glanced over at her. She was standing between the couch and the coffee table, the remote in one hand, the other still on his neck and stroking through the hair at his nape. Felt good. If he wasn't pretty sure they were having a serious, far-reaching conversation, he'd close his eyes and lay his head against her thigh. Rest.

"When we have kids."

He jerked to attention. "The moment you get pregnant, you're desked anyway," he said, giving her cautious shrug. "That's just regs."

"And you?" she said, an eyebrow raising.

Uh-oh. "And... me too?"

She nodded. "If I can't come after you... we're not taking the chance. I can't do it, Castle. Let you leave all alone, no back-up."

"I wanted us to quit," he said. "You're the one who wouldn't let me."

"Rick, quitting and taking a backseat in these operations are not the same thing. Neither of us is quitting - the CIA can be a place to effect real change in the world and I'm not giving that up just because I got trapped in Russia for a few days."

"Thirteen days."

She sank to the couch beside him, hanging onto the nape of his neck, squeezing. "Castle. Come on. Don't do this right now, okay? Let's get adjusted to being back at home, let's have crazy practice sex, and we'll work out the wrinkles when they come up."

He reached out and brushed his hand along her abdomen, couldn't help the way it felt so achingly real, so close - and one wrong move was all it took to take that away from them.

She brought him in for a soft kiss, her hand coming down to tangle with his over her flat stomach, her hollowed out stomach, and the way she touched him could almost make him forget just how far off that dream still was.

"Enough, Castle. Enough." She stroked her hand through his hair and pulled him back, made him sit up. "You gotta feed me. First step."

"Then the practice sex?"

"No," she said but she grinned. "Welcome home sex is first."

"I can do that."

"Oh, I know you can."