Until, Chapter 2: A short TARDIS-verse WIP
A/N: Thank you so much for the kind reviews of Chapter 1-for ANY reviews, but you've all been most kind. The middle of this expanded a bit, so that the story will probably end up being four chapters instead of three. Still for my very dear Docnerd89 and for ER, whose migraine, I hope, is better.
Spoilers: Set During 'Till Death Do Us Part (4 x 11), but no real spoilers unless you literally know nothing about that episode
Series: In the TARDIS-verse, after "Calculation" and "Night Hawks" (which run concurrent with one another) and before "Unexpected Light." Other stories in the series are TARDIS: Time and Relative Dimension in Space, Maybe I'll Miss You, Stupid Mouth Shut, and Circle 'Round the Sun. Not a Dr. Who crossover, just a borrowed concept.
Kate's heart pounds as she sees him, head and shoulders above the crowd. He's coming toward her. One shoulder dips way down, and as the dancers make way, she sees Jenny, barely able to reach his elbow.
Oh. Coming toward them, of course. Toward her and Ryan. Kate blushes. She thought. She assumed . . .
Castle's eyes are fixed on her. She thinks for a moment that he assumed, too, but it's not quite so simple. There's something on his mind.
Jenny drops Castle's elbow and runs the last few steps toward Kevin. They share a kiss. A private moment in the happy, buzzing chaos before they each move on to their next partners.
The two of them-she and Castle-are just standing there. He's not moving any closer and she wonders why. Why?
His face softens. It's still on his mind, whatever is prompting that mixture of petulance and earnest concern, but it seems that he can't look at her for very long without something kindling. God knows she can't.
He's asking a question, and before she knows what it is-what it really is-Kate shakes her head. He looks peeved. Just for a fraction of a second, he looks peeved, and it makes her want to close the gap in two long strides and soothe him out of it. To wrap her arms around his neck and tip her head back and tease him into long looks and dangerous smiles.
Instead, she shakes her head again and doesn't really know why.
Jenny doesn't say anything. Just pats his shoulder and smiles like she trusts him-trusts his promise-completely. He spies Kate through the crowd, and he's not so sure she should trust him. Not so sure at all.
He takes Jenny by the arm, leans down to make it easy on her, and leads her through the crowd. There's no way she should be able to see anything from her vantage point, but she unerringly picks her way through. The sea of bodies parts, and there they are, Beckett and Ryan.
Jenny lets go his arm. She dashes over to Kevin for a sweet kiss. The two of them barely have a second before they're claimed by their next partners.
Kate stands a little ways off, looking. Looking. Castle looks back, and she shakes her head. Her eyes dart around the dance floor and then find his. She shakes her head again.
A stubborn fist pushes against his chest. He wants to insist. To erase the distance between them and pull her to him again. She's shaking her head, but he wonders. He wonders if she's any stronger than him tonight. If she can be any wiser with all this-all this-going on.
His promise to Jenny saves him. Maybe saves them both. He nods at Kate and makes his way off the dance floor. She looks surprised to see him go and maybe a little relieved. He looks away. Looks back again, and she hasn't moved. She doesn't bother to look away when his eyes find hers.
Maybe not relieved, he thinks with grim satisfaction, but she doesn't follow. She just stands there until the music starts and Esposito glides up and casually takes her by the hand.
Castle watches. Watches her press her lips together in a smile at something Javier says. Watches as her joints loosen and she steps into the dance. Thinks to himself: Good. Good, though he's not sure why. He just wants . . . he wants. That's the problem. But it's his problem. Or his part of their problem. Or whatever.
She told him to go. Well, not in so many words. And she didn't exactly tell him to go, but . . .
She misses him. It hasn't been 10 minutes and she misses him. The strong right angles of his shoulders moving through the crowd of dancers. His eyes on her. His hands.
She thought he'd dance with some bridesmaid or other, maybe Lanie after she's done taking Ryan for a spin. And then he'd claim her again. She'd claim him.
But she watched him leave the dance floor with a single look back, and now he's nowhere to be found and she misses him. She tells herself she's not worried. That he'll find her. She expects him to find her. He'll wait a decent interval and that's a good idea, right? Even if no one is watching. It's a good idea.
For now she's dancing with Esposito. He's just as bad as Ryan. Worse. It seems he can't be bothered to pay attention to the dance as he hauls her back and forth, keeping eyes on Lanie at any cost.
Kate's had enough of the cost. He's making it impossible to manage her heels, especially with the straight, narrow skirt on this stupid dress. She decides she's had enough.
"Beckett." Esposito blinks at her. It's like he's just remembered she's there. "Are you leading?"
"One of us should be," she snaps, but it's a momentary thing. She's not really annoyed. Well, she is, but she can't hold on to it. Not tonight.
She gives him a half smile. Espo has the good grace to look a little sheepish. He's a good dancer, too, when he's not treating it like a stakeout.
Not that she has much room to talk. She just has the height advantage, and Castle should be easier to spot. Would be easier to spot if he were on the dance floor. Which he's not. He's not anywhere, but she's not worried.
"Maybe he's grabbing a drink," Esposito says casually.
"Who?" She misses casual by a lot. It wins her a pitying look. She sticks her tongue out at him.
He laughs in surprise. "You're having a good time."
Kate waits for her spine to stiffen. Waits to feel it: Fight or flight. Waits for the compulsion to deny, defend. To run. It doesn't come. There's just that pleasant, unsettled feeling in her stomach. Just an excited rush of blood to her cheeks. Maybe she's done running. Maybe tonight, she's finally done.
"Yeah," she says after a minute. "Hard not to around those two." She tilts her head to one side, then the other.
On one side, Jenny is dancing with her half brother. He's gawky and unsure at first, but she's patient. Laughs softly and settles his hand on her hip. Takes a firm grip on the other and nods encouragement. She puts him at ease, and it's obvious he'll be a heart-breaker some day.
On the other, Ryan and Lanie are having a ball. Smiling and egging each other on to more and more complicated moves.
"Hard not to," Espo agrees.
They lapse into comfortable silence for a while. He lets her lead. She keeps them turning in Lanie's direction. She has his back, just like always.
"I can intercept him you know." She has his back, but she's not a saint.
"Huh?" He's not really listening. Who can blame him when Lanie's shooting him a thousand-watt smile over Ryan's shoulder?
Still, Kate can't resist. "Lanie's date. On your two. Song's almost over. He's looking for her."
Esposito's head snaps to his right. His jaw muscle jumps once, but the next second he's narrowing his eyes at her. "You knew."
"Knew what?" Kate says, eyes wide.
"About Toby's boyfriend."
She laughs and doesn't bother to deny it.
"Not cool, Beckett." He shakes his head.
"And you'd know about cool, right?" She gestures across the dance floor. Esposito's cousin and some college friend of Ryan's are in a clinch. They're swaying together, oblivious to the band's upbeat tempo.
"Yeah, Looks like we both lost our dates," Esposito replies cooly.
"It's not . . . Alexis just couldn't make it . . ." She hates it. Hates how quickly the denial is on her lips. Hates the taste of panic. How exposed she feels. She's not done, apparently. Apparently she still wants to run, and she hates it.
"Yeah. Lucky for Castle there's no way you could've gotten a date to this thing."
The tone is typical Esposito. Tough. Dry. Sarcastic. But she can tell the difference. There's no real bite to it. He's calling her out, but that's as far as it goes. He's got her back, too. Even when she's her own worst enemy.
It's still there. The panic isn't going anywhere. She still wants to run. But this helps. They're not going to have a heart-to-heart about it. That's not who they are. But he's calling her out.
"Yeah," she says finally. "Lucky for Castle."
Castle wants a drink. Badly. But it's not a good idea. He ought to be gathering his inhibitions around him like armor, not knocking the last pathetic few of them down with alcohol and watching her.
He wants to brood, but it's hard when she's within sight. When he can see her eyebrows draw together as she plots revenge on Esposito, who is too fixated on Lanie to be a good partner. He loves to watch her, but it's not doing anything for his resolve.
He needs to find something to do with himself for a while. He pats his suit jacket and feels the hard outline of his phone. Maybe he'll call Alexis. Check in. That might kill some time. He looks around the room for an exit. A quiet spot to remove himself to.
That's when he notices it. Something he's been noticing without noticing. A pattern starts to come together, and it's not good for any number of reasons.
They're all around the outskirts of the dance floor. A ring of them. Whispering huddles of two or three. Some sitting, some standing, but none of them more than a yard from the stark line between the dance floor's dark wood and the pale marble that dominates the rest of the room. They're all watching, their attention divided now. Watching him. Watching Kate. Oh. That.
It's started already. He's pretty sure it just started. That for whatever reason, they weren't all standing there gawking while he danced with Kate. Maybe they didn't recognize him. Didn't recognize her. He's a different person with her. She's a different person with him. Especially tonight. Especially tonight. Maybe that shows.
But whatever kept it at bay before, it's started now, and he should have thought of it. Should have realized earlier. Should have had a plan. Alexis was supposed to be here and . . . oh . . . well, doesn't that make him father of the year.
He should've had a plan. But he didn't and he doesn't. Not unless it involves keeping Kate on the dance floor, tucked against him, safe and sound until they roll the whole place up for the night. Not unless that's a plan. It could be a plan. He wishes it could be.
He wants to give her this night. He doesn't want people bothering her. The thought surprises him at first. Then it startles him. Because it's not about him being possessive.
It's not entirely about that.
He wonders how bad it is for her. He knows-remembers, though he doesn't want to-that it was bad a few years ago. When he . . . the first time he almost lost her. It was bad then, but he was so intent on fixing them. And then, in the second book, he dealt with it, right? Acknowledged it, and . . . shit. He wonders how bad it's been all this time.
He makes his way to the edge of the dance floor. Tries to think like Paula would think. Like Gina. A group of three catches his eye. Their conversation is intense. A youngish man and woman are whispering fiercely. The older woman with them-sixtyish, their mother, maybe?-isn't bothering to whisper. Three feet high and rising, he thinks.
He needs a drink for this. He'll nurse it, but he definitely needs a drink. He sets out. Takes the long way around the banquet tables. Puts himself between the little group and the dance floor. He's two steps past him, when the younger woman speaks.
"Mr. Castle?"
She has Kevin's nose and that helps for some reason. He thinks he remembers now. She's a cousin.
She's tentative, nervous. That helps, too. It's better than the alternative. And anyway, he's nervous, too. Strangely so.
He holds out his hand to her, then to the other two, "Rick. I was just going to get a drink. Join me?"
They exchange surprised looks. Not unpleased, but surprised. They follow him away from the dance floor.
She does dance with Toby, but it's not an interception. The band brings it way down for their next number, and Lanie and Esposito drift together like there's no one else in the room. No one else in the world.
She's a consolation prize, but she doesn't mind. Toby is smart, funny, and has serious moves. He teaches her a few ballroom steps, delighted at how quickly she picks them up. The center of the floor clears for them. They show each other off.
The other couples cheer them on. Some of the other couples. The newlyweds and the Esplainies of the world are too busy taking advantage of the low lights and the lead singer's smoky voice to notice.
Toby's hand is sure and steady at her waist as he reels her back in from a turn.
"You're amazing!" Kate exclaims, a little out of breath. It's a slow song, but he's putting her through her paces. It's exhilarating.
"What can I say?" he quips. "It's true what they say about all the good ones."
She laughs, happiness spilling out again. That's one thing she can do with it. She laughs.
"Sad but true," she says when she's done laughing. When she's done for now. "But it's working out for me. First time tonight I've had my partner's full attention."
"Not the first time," he counters. He grimaces as he feels her stiffen and miss a step. "I'm sorry. I . . . well, you know Lanie, but you and I don't really know each other. And when the two of you were dancing . . . I'm sorry."
She forces herself to relax. Takes in a breath and lets go. Just because people aren't looking doesn't mean they don't notice. Even strangers. He could they not? They've been noticing for years. She forces herself to relax, and it works. So they notice? So what?
"No need," she says, and the smile is for real. "So . . . taken and gay. Tell me about him."
Toby laughs. Tells her about him. He's a public defender. They have a good-natured argument about the system. Discuss the pros and cons of Toby and his partner getting married, now that they can. In New York anyway.
"It's a lot of trouble," Toby admits. "Especially when you've been together for so long."
She looks over his shoulder at Jenny and Kevin. At Lanie and Javi.
"It is a lot of trouble," she grins at him, "but there's something about a wedding, isn't there?"
He follows her gaze. "There is. There really is."
The song ends, and they bow to each other. Share a laugh and a secret smile as Lanie edges her way over to them. She's a little apologetic. More than a little over the moon. Toby dramatically sweeps her into his arms, and they're off.
Kate backs her way off the floor and has every intention of hunting Castle down. She has no idea what a decent interval might be. She doesn't really care at this point. No one is watching. Everyone is watching. She's done caring. She wants to see him. She misses him. Tonight, she misses every single thing about him.
But Jenny's father has other ideas. He gives her a courtly bow, and she can't really say no. He says he wants to know all about it, and at first she assumes he means Castle. She assumes he's talking about Nikki Heat, and she steels herself.
But that's not it at all. He wants to know all about police work. Wants to know what his daughter is facing. What she's signed up for. A lifetime of fearing the worst in the world of the 24-hour news cycle.
Kate tells him the truth. That it's a hard job. Harder every day. That Kevin is a good cop and loves Jenny openly and unashamedly in the toughest room in the world. That she and Castle, Ryan and Esposito, they're a great team. That they always-always- do everything they can to make sure everyone goes home safe at the end of every single day. That their families, the ones they love, drive them and keep them smart, keep them safe.
The song ends, and he looks relieved. She hopes he looks relieved. She hopes she can give her friends that.
She thanks him for the dance and makes a bid for the sidelines again. And there's Jenny's brother. Half brother. The best man and someday heart breaker. He's staring at his shoes and asking her to dance. Asking Nikki Heat to dance, she suspects, and she knows the signs. She doesn't have it in her to say no.
He's taken Jenny's lessons to heart. He's painfully polite as he tries to count beats in his head, and under other circumstances, she might find it endearing. She might find his awkward attempts at conversation charming in their own right.
But she's distracted. Castle's still nowhere to be found. She's not worried. She's not. But she's out of sorts. What if he left. He wouldn't just leave, right? Even if something had come up. He wouldn't just leave.
The song ends, finally-finally. She's about to rush off, but Nelson (Nelson?) stops her and thanks her for the dance. He's so formal, so sweet that she backtracks and drops a kiss on his cheek. Leaves him standing there gaping as her heels ring out against the marble floor.
Now that she has a minute, the evidence is coming together. Things she's been noticing without noticing. Knots of people in one corner of the room. Coming and going, one or two at a time. Nervous when they go in, a little starstruck when they come out. She knows the feeling.
She makes a beeline for the red velvet curtain blocking most of the archway. She remembers it now. Just an odd little corner of the room. Windows looking out on nothing, a few chairs, and some other odds and ends.
It's mostly empty, this end of the room. One of the bars is near enough, but it's is a little cold over here, a little far from the action. Just a few stragglers talking in hushed, excited tones.
There's a bored-looking bartender. Kate swings by and asks for champagne. Thinks better of it and asks for two. Drops a hefty tip in her glass and gets a broad smile.
She plans to sweep through the curtain and rescue him. Because he must need rescuing. It's been God knows how long since they danced and he must. He must.
She pulls up short, champagne sloshing a little and she just manages to recover before it tops the rim. It's his voice. It's ridiculous, but his voice stops her in her tracks. She takes half a step to the side. Recon. She's mostly hidden by the curtain, and he's facing three-quarters away from her. Good. Recon makes sense.
She watches. Listens. His voice is low and excited. Eager and genuine. Nothing like the slick, superficial persona she's seen at events. She doesn't hate it. She's too fascinated by him to really hate it. But she likes it less.
This is nothing like that. He's talking about writing. Really talking about it when he's the one doing the talking, but that's not a lot of the time. She realizes what he's doing. He's getting them to talk. Getting them to tell him stories. And they filter out in ones and twos as others filter in.
She drops into a chair half concealed by a potted palm. Sips her champagne and listens. He might need rescuing, but not yet.
He wishes Alexis were here. Not that he needs a chaperone. But she's good at this. Reading crowds. Keeping him out of conversations like this one. Getting him out of them when he stumbles in.
"Don't you think?" The woman is looking at him eagerly. Her hand snakes out, bound for his sleeve, but he dodges. Makes a last-minute grab for his drink.
He has a drink. Thank God. He takes a long sip to buy time. He has no idea what she's talking about, but it seems a response is required."Yeah. Yeah . . . I think."
"I knew it," she squeals.
Castle tries not to wince. The quiet corner-not so quiet right now, even though it's just the two of them-was a good idea at first. Mostly out of sight of the dance floor, no chance of a real crowd forming. He's been able to do what he needs to do. He's chatted with a couple dozen people. Maybe a few more. Fans or friends of fans. It's been going well. He's been shaking hands and kissing cheeks. Thanking them all for their kind words. For reading the books.
Every once in a while, he signs something. A place card. A matchbook. The wedding program, next to his own name. That's weird. His signature sandwiched into the tight space between two columns with some serious kerning problems. Some niece of Jenny's did the programs. He remembers Ryan telling him that. He's happy to sign whatever they want, but it's weird.
This is not his favorite part of his life. A crowd that's there for him? Sure, he eats that up most of the time. But he's never been great at this, keeping it all in its place and not letting it spill over. Alexis is better at it. She's had to be, he thinks with a twinge.
He wonders how long he's been at this. It feels like forever, and his energy for all of it is just about gone. He wants to get back to the dance floor. To be done with this part and back out there. Where Kate is.
He misses her. Not just holding her, although that . . . that. That probably doesn't fall under the heading of being careful. But he misses more than that. He misses seeing her like this. Happy and full of light.
It's been a long time. Longer than the eight months since she was shot. And it will be longer still. After tonight, who knows how long it will be before he gets to see her like this again. What they'll have to get through. If they get through it together. But he's not thinking about that. Not tonight.
A few people ask about her-about Nikki. For once it works in his favor. What everyone assumes. They lean around the heavy velvet curtain that masks part of the wide arch. They point her out on the dance floor and he's relieved to see that they're gone, the little knots of gawkers. They've followed him here or moved on anyway. They point her out and he nods. Stays non-committal, but they draw their own conclusions.
He's seen more than one phone number disappear back into a sequined clutch, and it makes him want to grin. It makes his pulse race. He likes the idea of being taken. He likes the idea of being hers. He promised Jenny that he'd be careful and he will be. He will be. But he likes the idea of being hers.
He shifts the conversation when he can. From Nikki to Raley. From the woman to the world he writes in. Mostly, they're happy to let him. Mostly, they take the hint when he raises his glass to Kevin and Jenny. To their day. They raise their own glasses and move on.
This woman is not taking the hint. She moves closer. The not-so-quiet corner is no longer a good idea.
Castle inches back. He can't even tell if she's hitting on him or wants something else. Maybe he does need a chaperone.
Whatever she wants, she's looking at him expectantly. He still doesn't have the faintest idea what she's talking about. He's teetering on the brink of something like panic when he feels a welcome buzz in his inside pocket.
"Would you excuse me a minute?" He reaches in and pulls out his phone. "Probably my daughter."
He lobs it out there. Sometimes it works as well as anything, dropping the fact that he has a kid. She doesn't leave, and he stifles a sigh. At least he's got plausible deniability in his hand.
It's Kate's face lighting up his phone. There's the usual frisson of excitement he feels every time she calls. Every time.
But he's confused. Why would she be texting him? He goes absolutely still, then. If she . . . he has no idea what he'd do if . . . if. He made a promise to Jenny. And he knows that Kate's not ready and that this whole night is just messing with them. But if . . . if.
The woman sidles up next to him. Castle practically jumps out of his skin. He'd literally forgotten that she even existed. And right now, friend of Kevin and Jenny's or not, he'd wish her into the cornfield if he could. He doesn't know what to do.
The woman peers over his shoulder and coos, "Oh! You're a dad. How old is she?"
He blinks at her. Kate? Why does she want to know how old Kate is?
"Your little girl," she lands a playful slap on his shoulder.
"Uh . . . 17." He pulls the phone protectively against his chest and moves away again. Tries to make himself as small as possible. She's super hands-y all of a sudden. Sometimes the kid thing goes the other way. Alexis would've reminded him of that. He definitely needs a chaperone. "She was supposed to be my date, but she got a better offer."
"So you're here alone." The woman arches an eyebrow at him.
Castle doesn't notice. He can't stand the suspense anymore. He peers down at the screen. It takes him a minute, but he finally makes sense of of the text.
He feels a hot flare of disappointment. A rush of relief. He doesn't know what he feels, really, other than stupidly grateful. Grateful that he doesn't have to know what he'd do. Grateful that she has his back. She always has his back: Need an exit?
He looks up and smiles at the woman. He knows it must be rude, but he smiles.
"No," he says. "No, I'm not alone."
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