castle fanfiction, castle/beckett - the ends opening into new ends always (9/10)

[recycledstars]

She returned to her father’s house after midnight expecting to find it dark and quiet. Instead, there was the glow of firelight from the living room. She hesitated in the hall, floorboards creaking beneath her heels.

“Katie,” her father greeted her from the other room, “Come here.”

She paused in front of the mirror in the hall and tried to re-pin a few stubborn looks of hair into her coif. She hardly looked presentable; there was a long ladder in her stockings where he had clawed at them and her rouge at smeared at the corners of her mouth. She hurriedly covered it as best she could with her powder and ran one last hopeful hand over her hair. It was the best that could be done.

“Father?” she called softly, heels clacking against the wooden floors to announce her presence.

He was sitting on the couch facing the fire, hands clasped in his lap and looking pensive. He hadn’t always been a thinking man - her mother had definitely been the more ponderous of her parents - but after her death, she had found him with that same look on his face over and over. At first she worried he had been drinking, but he didn’t smell of it when she bent to kiss his cheek. “I didn’t expect you to be awake,” she remarked.

“I’ve been thinking,” he told her.

He patted the seat beside him. She took it, smoothing her skirt.

“You’re out very late,” he observed, neutral though she mistook it for criticism.

“You’re one to judge,” she sniped prettily.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he patted her hand, “Just be careful. It’s not safe in some parts of the city after dark.”

“I was at Castle’s,” she told him, “It’s only four blocks.”

“I thought you would be,” her father smiled, “We spoke the other day when he came to pick you up. He’s quite taken with you Katie.”

She was a little mortified.

“Lanie told me what happened,” he confessed in a low voice, “I was worried, couldn’t sleep. I wish you would have called to let me know you were all right.”

“She shouldn’t have done that,” she half-scowled. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“But I should be worried, shouldn’t I?”

She stared at her hands, “I don’t know. Castle thinks so. The man who killed mother, he knows we’re closing in on him.”

“He had you shot at.”

She nodded. “But if we just had some concrete evidence we could take to the police, I think we could get him.”

“When there are bullets involved, a man is serious about what he wants, and it seems he’s got into his head that he wants you dead. I already lost your mother Katie, I don’t want to lose you too,” he pulled her against him in a brief hug.

She let her head rest against his shoulder. A few tears came, but they were silent. She did her best to hide them. “That’s what Castle said. He wants to go away together, somewhere we’ll be safe.”

Her father politely ignored her tears. “And you don’t want to go?”

“I told him I couldn’t,” she wiped at her cheeks furiously, “Not before mom gets justice. So I, I left.”

“Your mother told me once, when you were sixteen and Will Sorenson started coming around all the time, to stay out of your relationships with men. She told me you could make up your own mind about who to love, and that by interfering I’d just encourage you to do exactly the opposite of what I advised you to do. I believed her. I still do. And I know things are different these days and there are young ladies that carry on with men they’re not married to. But I have to ask you Katie, do you love him?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “I think I ought to, that I might if I let myself. But I’m scared.”

“Oh daughter,” he laughed in a soft huff against her hair, tucking her underneath his chin, “There are things in life you should be afraid of, men with guns coming to kill you for example, and yet you choose the one thing that might bring you real happiness.”

“You have a high opinion of love,” she told him, “After mother died, it changed you.”

“Of course it did,” he pulled back to look her in the eye, “I loved your mother, and losing her hurt more than anything. It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and I didn’t even do it very well. But I can honestly tell you that I never, not for one second, regretted loving her.”

“Why?”

“Because if I had never met her, even after the pain of losing her, my life would be half as happy, half as good. There will be pain in your life whether you invite it in or not, you know that. And you also know that you don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the next day. I would do anything, anything for one more second with your mother. You cannot waste what precious time you have on fear.”

“If we leave, we won’t ever be able to come back,” she leant back into him and hugged him around the middle, as she had when she was a little girl.

“But you’ll be safe, and you’ll be alive,” her father stroked her hair, “And you’ll write.”

“I promise.”

“And what about what you’ve found?” he asked.

“Well Castle has a contact in the police. He’ll do what he can, but with the man’s political connections there’s not much hope of official justice.”

“You say that like you’ve thought of an alternative.”

“Mother was helping Scott Murray on a case when she died, I told you that. An innocent man was sent to prison. He was … well his family run several illegitimate businesses. They want their own kind of justice. I told them we would help them get it, in exchange for their protection.”

“Vengeance only begets more vengeance,” her father told her, “You know that.”

“In my head, yes. In my heart? If that’s the price of our safety?” she sighed, “Nothing is simple.”

“I want you to have something,” he drew back and she sat upright. He pulled his watch from his pocket and placed it in her waiting hand. “To remind you of me, and because without you Katie, I would have drowned in the bottom of a bottle.”

She stared at it before closing her fingers around it, tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Oh, and this,” he removed an envelope from the front pocket of his jacket. When she peered inside it contained a fat wad of bills. “To help you get away. I know Mister Castle has some money, but in case it isn’t enough.”

“I can’t take it,” she pushed it back towards him, “That must be three months of rent.”

“It’s the money I would have spent drinking,” he told her, “And it’s yours, rightfully. I’ve no other use for it. Besides, with you leaving, I thought I would go and stay with my sister in Albany.”

“How did you know I was leaving?” she caught a hint of something hinky.

“Mister Castle sent a letter with Lanie. He told me you wouldn’t tell me how serious things were.”

“Show it to me,” she demanded.

“He also told me I should burn it after I read it. Now I see he wasn’t just being dramatic.”

“He had no right,” she grumbled.

“Has he told you what he told me in that letter? About how much he cares for you?”

“He says he loves me,” she dismissed it as unimportant, “If that’s what you mean.”

“He also said he’d ask to marry you, if he thought there was the slightest chance you’d have him.”

“Sometimes that man isn’t as dumb as he looks,” she said darkly.

“Don’t be like that; he just wants you to be safe. And so do I. Please. You’re my daughter; you have to let me protect you when I can. I’ve never asked you to do anything you didn’t choose for yourself Katherine, but I am asking you to do this.”

“And if I don’t want to go with him?”

“I’ll take you myself,” he patted her arm, “If that’s what you want. But I don’t think it is.”

She stared at the dying fire, embers fading into the charcoal, “No. I suppose it isn’t.”

He waited downstairs as she packed her bags. She chose sparingly, leaving most of her things behind. She told her father to let Lanie have her pick of them. They might have to travel around a lot in the next little while, and it wouldn’t do to have lots of things. She said goodbye to him at the door. They embraced tightly. She felt a sudden urge to stay. He was getting old. He would need her to take care of him.

“Make sure you’re good to Lanie,” she told him. “Let her help you.”

“I will, I will.”

“Promise me?”

“Ok, ok I promise.”

She hugged him again.

“I love you Katie; don’t you ever forget that. You’re my favourite daughter.”

It was an old joke. She laughed, even as tears came to her eyes as she took in the entrance to her childhood home, the railing of the stairs she had slid down as a child, the rug with the stain from where she had spilled her hot tea, the mirror in the hall where she had checked her reflection on her wedding day, and beyond a wooden arch, the small writing desk that she had hid underneath in countless games of hide-and-seek and more often, sat on her mother’s knee and listened to stories from the books that fascinated her. There were so many memories she had pushed back because they were painful. It seemed now to be painful to forget.

“I’m your only daughter,” she answered, in keeping with tradition and he nodded once.

She kissed him and let her hand linger on the door knob. He ushered her onwards with a brief, one-handed wave and she went, reluctantly, into the chill of early morning.

She was standing on Castle’s doorstep as the sun rose, clutching a suitcase in hands gloved in white lace. He was wearing the shirt he’d had on the night before when he opened the door. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, he was unshaven and there was the slightest smudge of ink at the side of his mouth. She wanted to kiss it. He was staring at her like he didn’t quite believe it was real, like maybe he’d fallen asleep at his desk again and was dreaming the whole thing. She nodded yes to the question his eyes were asking and stepped past him into the hall.

As soon as her suitcase was safely deposited next to the growing pile of Martha’s things in the hall, he was at her back, hands on her shoulders, twisting her around until she was leaning against the wall. She brought her arms around his neck, pulling off one of her gloves behind his head then reaching forward to wipe the corner of his mouth with her thumb. He hugged her waist, sinking his face into her hair and breathing her in.

“I didn’t think you would come back,” he said, lips warm against her ear.

“I wasn’t going to,” she admitted, “I was going to write you and tell you to go with your family. You shouldn’t have to be a part of this. It’s not fair. I’m so sorry,” she let her hand ghost against the side of his face, “But I didn’t want to leave you. Just this once, I think I’m going to be selfish.”

“No,” he kissed the skin behind her ear, “This is exactly what I want.”

“That’s because you don’t have any sense,” she told him.

“No, it’s because I love you Kate.”

“That’s the same thing,” she argued as she turned her face to kiss him.

“I called Pulgatti and told him to send for us here tonight,” he told Kate, “Just in case. I still hoped you’d come.”

“Well here I am,” she pulled her skirt wide in a sort of curtsey. “What did you arrange?”

“He’s making a purchase off the coast, just outside US waters, tonight after midnight. For a little extra, the captain of the ship will take us back to Canada with him. I hope you don’t get seasick. It’s supposed to be a rough journey. After that, we’ll travel on land, by car or by train. It’s your choice. Javier has a few contacts out west in British Columbia. I’d like to meet up with them. They’re good people; people we can trust.”

Kate nodded, “Ok.”

He ran his hands over her cheeks again, tugging at her face until it was within kissing distance and pressing his mouth to hers softly. “I almost don’t believe you’re here.”

She laughed, quietly and melodically. “How shall I convince you?”

He kissed her forehead, “I can think of some ways.”

Alexis and Martha were scheduled to leave mid-morning. The intimate exchange in the hallway was interrupted when Martha ghosted past. Castle scowled less when she returned with two mugs of steaming coffee. Kate buried her nose in it in thanks. Castle took one mouthful and handed it back to his mother.

“Is Alexis awake?” he asked.

“She’s all packed,” Martha assured him. “I saw to it last night.”

He turned back to Kate and put a hand on her arm. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to go upstairs to check on her.”

She nodded and watched him ascend the stairs. Her expression was pensive. Martha lingered beside her, “Don’t you worry about him Kate. My son loves that girl more than anything in this world, except maybe you, and he knows he has to protect her.”

Martha leant into her arm lightly. It was a comforting weight.

“I wish we could go with you,” she leant back. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but hopefully it will be taken care of soon and we can join you. I don’t like to think I’m responsible for breaking up your family.”

Martha scoffed and linked their arms, patting her shoulder, “My dear, it takes more than an ocean to break up a real family. You do what you need to do and don’t even think about coming until it’s safe. Now come upstairs and help me choose which evening dresses to leave behind. The decision is absolutely killing me.”

In Alexis’ bedroom, Castle was watching his daughter sleep. Each huff of breath disturbed the front locks of her strawberry hair. How had she got so big? He remembered the first day he had put her in the small bed. She had been nearly three years old and her feet had barely reached halfway down the mattress. She had kicked them out beneath the blankets, loudly demanding a story. He reached over and stroked her hair. He was going to miss the last years of her childhood which made him feel simultaneously sad and mischievous, thinking of his mother dealing with his daughter’s growing pains. Alexis stirred, kicking out her feet as she always had and rolling on her side towards him.

“Daddy?” she yawned, still half-asleep.

“Morning pumpkin,” he let his hand rest on her shoulder. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

His daughter blinked at him. “What is it? What is it?”

She shrugged off his hand and sat up in bed. “Should I close my eyes?”

“No, no; it’s not that kind of surprise. You and gram are going on a trip.”

“Where are we going?” she was immediately half as excited and more thoughtful. “And why aren’t you coming? And why is it a surprise?”

“Well,” he held out a hand and pulled her to a standing position on the bed, standing himself so their eyes were level. “It’s a surprise because I only thought of it last night. And I’m not going because it’s …” he took both her hands and encouraged her to jump on the mattress. She bounced, “Yes daddy?”

He let go of her hands and stared at her sadly.

“Well,” he sank down onto her bed and patted the space beside him. She bounced once more, into a sitting position and looked up at him curiously. “You see,” he began, haltingly, “Kate’s mother was killed a long time ago by a very bad man, and now he wants to come after Kate as well. So I want you and gram to go to Paris to live for a little while, where it’s safe for you, and I can’t go with you because I have to go with Kate and take her somewhere else where we’ll both be safe too.”

“Where will you go?” his daughter frowned.

“It’s a secret and I can’t tell you,” he put an arm around her and crushed her to his side, “Because one day the bad people might come and ask you, and if you know, they might do some awful things to you to make you tell.”

“I’d never tell,” she declared resolutely. “Do I have to get dressed now?”

He nodded.

“Will you braid my hair?” she asked.

“Gram does it much better,” he ruffled said hair.

She squinted up at him reproachfully.

“But I want you to do it.”

“Then I will,” he promised, “Now go, get dressed. In a dress please.”

When they had successfully sorted Martha’s evening wear into two trunks, one for storage and one bound for Paris, Kate wandered down the hall to Alexis’ room. She carefully opened the door and peered through. She watched from the doorway as Castle struggled with his daughter’s hair, trying to wrangle it into a French braid. He must have heard her or sensed her watching, because he turned to her and smiled.

“I’m sorry,” she was halfway back into the hall, “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No, come in.”

Alexis’ head bobbed and made a noise of protest.

“Oh wait,” he leant over his daughter’s shoulder, “She’s right. It’s her room; she should be the one to invite you. How silly of me.”

“Alexis, may I come in?” Kate asked, implored to play along by Castle’s eyes.

“Yes, yes,” she clapped her hands together, “Of course.”

“May I help your father with this braid? He’s having some trouble back here.”

“Yes, please help him.”

Castle made a wounded noise. “But you begged me to do it for you.”

“Just like when I was a baby,” his daughter confirmed, “But sometimes your braids are a little crooked daddy.”

“Yes they are,” Kate slipped her hands over Castle’s and unwound a few pieces of hair, “Because you’re pulling too much with this hand. Come on.”

Together, they pulled Alexis’ hair back into a sleek braid.

“It would have been helpful to have you around when she was younger,” Castle murmured to Kate as she tied the braid with a tight bow. He snaked his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.

Alexis tipped her head back and stared up at them, “All done?”

“Yes,” Kate dropped her hair. “You’re ready.”

“As you should be,” Martha swanned into the room and spun her granddaughter in a full circle. “Look at you. You look pos-i-tute-ly wonderful.” She turned her attention to the adults, “Well don’t you two make a picture?”

Castle beamed.

“Come on, all of you, there’s breakfast in the kitchen. And especially you two,” she waved her hands at Kate and Castle’s direction. “In uncertain times, it’s important to eat when you can.”

Martha didn’t stereotypically fit the matriarch role; in her brightly coloured skirt and blouse she didn’t particularly look the part, but she commanded a certain respect and shared some of the best unexpected wisdom. They all turned and obeyed.

Alexis bounded down the stairs in front of them and was already sitting in her usual seat, swinging her legs beneath the table when the adults joined her. Kate moved to help Martha serve the eggs. When they were done, Martha stood immediately and piled the dishes in the sink.

“I don’t want to hurry you, but we need to be at the port shortly. I’ve already called a car. And Richard, be sure that you do those dishes please. Kate’s still a guest in your home.”

“She picks the oddest times to be a mother,” he stage whispered. Kate hid a smile behind her hand.

“Do you have enough money?” he asked, “I have to stop by the bank later today, but you should be able to access what’s left in the account from Paris.”

Martha patted the purse that was hanging on her wrist. “We’ve got enough for the journey and then some. I’ve written ahead to a friend of mine. We’ll stay with her until we can organise more permanent accommodations. And I’ll enrol Alexis in school as soon as we’re settled. I thought we might tour a bit first. Travel is as good as an education I always say.”

Castle looked heavenward. “I know you do.”

“And you turned out just fine didn’t you?” Martha countered. “Besides, you know our Alexis; there’ll be patisseries and plays and art exhibitions and operas and the French countryside and she’ll be bothering me to read a book. I don’t know where she gets that from. I can’t imagine Meredith ever being bookish and you certainly never learned a thing in your life on purpose.”

They had reached the front hall by then. Castle held his daughter’s coat by the collar, helping her slip her arms into it. He adjusted the collar and patted her head. She darted away to play amongst their luggage while he said goodbye to his mother.

“You take care of her son,” Martha patted his cheek. “And don’t do anything stupid.”

“I love you too mother,” he kissed her cheek.

She hugged him tightly. “Oh, my boy. You marry that girl and bring her over to Paris as soon as you can.”

Alexis tugged at Kate’s skirt. “Take care of daddy,” she requested simply.

Kate nodded. “I promise.”

Castle turned backwards and scooped his daughter into a hug from behind. He kissed her temple and she giggled as his unshaven chin tickled her cheeks. He had stooped to his knees and when Alexis wriggled out of his grasp, she turned to face him and flung her arms around his neck. “I don’t want to go without you daddy.”

“I don’t want you to either,” he pulled back and looked at her familiar blue eyes. “Promise me you’ll be good for gram.”

“I will I promise.”

“And practice your French.”

“I will. Every day, all the time.”

“And remember to have some fun. That means outside, not with your head in a book.”

“But reading is fun daddy.”

He laughed. “I know it is, but it’s good for you to try other things.”

“Oh, but I will, I will. And I’ll write to you every day to tell you all the things I’m trying.”

“Good girl. I love you sweetheart,” he kissed her.

Behind them, Martha pulled a reluctant Kate into a hug. “Goodbye dear. I hope it isn’t too long until we see you again.”

“I do too,” she said earnestly. “Have a safe journey.”

“I’m sure we will. Now, promise me some things. No, not something; I’ve got a whole list. Firstly, don’t be too proud to take Richard’s money. He has more than enough of it and he didn’t work very hard to get it in the first place. Secondly, you look after my son. He’s a good man Kate, but sometimes he needs someone sensible to keep him out of trouble. And lastly,” Martha patted her hand, “He loves you my dear. And sometimes his heart is too big for his own good, so be gentle with him.”

She couldn’t think of a thing to say, so she nodded mutely. Martha released her hand. Behind them, Castle pulled Alexis up onto his shoulders and carried her down the stairs on his back. He set her to her feet at the curb as the car pulled up. He helped the driver with their luggage, which barely fit in the trunk, and promised to send the rest of their things express post. In the street, Kate stood beside him as he waved to his daughter, who was twisted in her seat to look behind her as they drove off. She nudged his shoulder and reached down to take his hand. He had been smiling for Alexis’ benefit, but after they were gone his face fell. She tugged at his hand and led him, silently, back to the house.

It felt too empty after his family had left. The large rooms, sparser for all the belongings Martha had packed away in the dead of night, felt too spacious. He felt it as an ache in his chest. Suddenly weary, he squeezed her hand, pulling her into his arms and sighing in a dejected huff into her hair. She ran her hands up and down his back in an effort to comfort him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For all of this.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” he choked back; “I would never leave you.”

“I know,” she quieted him, “And I’m glad for it.”

They stood like that in the hall just in front of the closed front door for a long time until finally he stepped backwards, took her hand and led her upstairs. She paused at the doorway to his bedroom. A discarded tie lay draped over the chair beside the window and the covers were wrinkled, but otherwise it was neat. Somehow, she had expected his personal space to be more chaotic. He sank down on the mattress and started unlacing his shoes.

“I haven’t slept,” he confessed, “I couldn’t, after you left.”

“Neither have I,” she said. “I spent all night packing.”

“We should get some rest,” he pulled off his socks. “Pulgatti’s men are going to come for us after sundown and it’ll be a long night’s travel on that tug.”

She nodded, seeing the practicality of it but still simultaneously dreading and thrilled by the prospect of such a domestic moment. She wasn’t quite able to comprehend the intimacy of it. They had nothing left to hide, physically at least. It was the smaller, everyday secrets though that she feared. He had told her once that she was a mystery; she wondered, once he solved it, once there was only familiarity between them, would he still think so highly of her? It was a silly thought. She chided herself for it but she couldn’t abandon it completely.

He patted the space beside him. “Come on, don’t be modest.”

“I’m not,” she made a face at him and quickly crossed the room, sitting on the bed and unfastening her own shoes. She rolled her stockings off and began unbuttoning her dress. She pulled it over her shoulders and carefully lay it down on top of his tie. He was less careful with his clothing, leaving his shirt and slacks where they fell beside his shoes. She turned to look at him for a long moment.

“I don’t want you to feel that you have to stay with me,” she said at length, keeping the distance of the room between them. “I mean, I … I don’t want you to do this,” she gestured between them, “Because you feel you should, or because it seems that we’ve been thrown together out of necessity.”

He laughed at her. She was offended, but he shook his head and continued grinning as he crossed the room and unfolded her arms, “No, no darling, don’t be cross with me. I didn’t mean anything by it. Perhaps we have been thrown together, as you say. Remember what I told you? Inescapable fate.”

“So you are a hopeless romantic,” she teased. Her tone had a little bite to it though; she was still mad at him for laughing at her very serious, hard fought honesty.

“What if I am?” he challenged, linking her arms behind his back and reaching down to take her face in his hands. “You’re not a duty. Like I told you before, I love you Kate. I see you’re going to take some convincing. That’s ok, I’m happy to do it.” He kissed her, “Believe me,” he let his thumbs trace her cheeks and kissed her again, “There’s nowhere I would rather be.”

She nodded and let him lead her over to the bed. He pulled back the covers and slid beneath them, pulling her down against his side. “Now sleep, my lovely little cynic. I’d take you to bed properly, but I’m much too tired.”

She yawned as though to echo his sentiment and burrowed into his side. He let his fingers stroke the bare skin of her shoulder absently as he lay awake staring at the ceiling. She was asleep in minutes, calmed by the solid warmth of his chest beneath her hand. Eventually, the steady rhythm of her breathing slowed his own. The sunlight peering through the curtains danced behind his eyelids.

--

When they awoke, it was late afternoon. She was up first, and tried valiantly to remove herself from the bed without waking him but it was no use: in his sleep he had slid his arm more firmly around her waist. When she saw he was awake, she held his gaze but cocked her head to one side. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he assured her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Just… hi.”

“Good morning,” she bent to kiss him quickly. “Or … I guess it’s afternoon.”

“I guess it is. You can wash up in the bathroom if you’d like. You remember where it is?”

She nodded and left the bed, folding her dress over her arm and tiptoeing, completely unnecessarily, down the hall. When she returned, he was shaving over a bowl in the corner of the room.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Not really,” he wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shower. “I would die for a coffee though.”

She nodded. “Well, I can fix it while you finish here.”

“My mother will kill me,” he grinned at her, meeting her eyes in the mirror, “But what can you do?”

She smiled back. “You just said you’d die for it.”

Ten minutes later, he appeared in the kitchen looking as kempt as he usually did. She was minding the coffee over the stove, concentrating on what she was doing and she didn’t notice when he came up behind her. She jumped and shrieked, uncharacteristically, when his hands found a ticklish spot beneath her arms that he was becoming quite fond of. “Castle!” she admonished, turning her face upward towards his to give him a stern look, “I might’ve spilled the coffee.”

He kissed her nose. “That would have been a disaster.”

“Oh shh, get off,” she flicked him with a dish towel, “Go wait in the study. I’ll bring it in in a minute.”

He nodded his consent just as the doorbell sounded in the hall. They both turned to stare in the direction of the noise.

“Are you expecting someone?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Ryan’ll come by after his shift, hopefully before Pulgatti’s men get here, but if he doesn’t… I was going to leave him instructions to manage my affairs in my absence, maybe pay the tab we’ve run up at Javier’s. Anyway, he has a key.”

“Well check who it is before you open the door,” she reminded him.

“Don’t suppose you have another one of those pistols stashed somewhere?” he asked casually.

“There’s one somewhere in my bag,” she said, “I’ll find it if you like.”

“I was only half-serious,” he waved her off. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

She held her breath for several moments after he disappeared, releasing it in a huge sigh when he opened the door. The voices that echoed through to the kitchen were familiar, both. She recognised it suddenly, and burst into the hall, the coffee forgotten.
“Will,” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Castle looked awkwardly between them, retreating behind her. “I’ll go finish the coffee,” he announced.

She nodded, absently, staring at her husband. Will looked much too large for the doorway he occupied; he always had. He looked painfully familiar. She recovered herself, and called after Castle that they would be in the sitting room. She didn’t want Will to see their work in the study. He hadn’t ever explained the nature of his work for the senator but that didn’t matter. She didn’t trust him.

When they were seated on Castle’s sofas, opposite each other, she tucked one ankle behind the other and took a breath. “What are you doing here Will?”

“Katie,” he began, using the tone he had always used to appease her. “Don’t be like that. I’ve given you the divorce and if you’ll let me, I’d like to help you.”

“I don’t want the kind of help you’re offering,” she narrowed her eyes at him, even as his words tugged at that familiar place inside her chest. The years of affection between them were still there, always would be, but the new distance was there too. She was torn between both feelings.

“Oh my dear, you’ve always been so hot-headed,” he smiled, fondly. “You’re so rash when you’re wounded. And you had every right to be, I’m quite sorry, you have to believe me. But you never gave me a chance to explain.”

“What could you possibly say?” she twisted her fingers together, “I could never forgive you for it Will.”

“Well, maybe not as my wife,” he conceded, “But once you hear it, maybe you can still find the grace to forgive me as an old friend.”

“Maybe,” she relented. “I’ll hear what you have to say.”

“That’s my girl.”

She made a face. “Don’t say that in front of Castle. He’ll be quite jealous.”

“Well,” Will pondered over it for a second, “I suppose he’d be right.”

“Will,” her eyes pleaded with him. “I’m sorry. I … you weren’t the only one who did wrong. I mean, you were wrong about the two of us; there was nothing untoward happening before … the night I left, not physically at least. But I … ”

“You fell in love with him Katie. Yes, I know. I can see it.”

She blushed, fiercely, more embarrassed than she had been in a long time. “Well yes, I suppose.”

“Anyway, I didn’t come here to say tearful goodbyes or decry your conduct. What’s done is done, and I’m sure you never meant to hurt me just as I never meant to hurt you. I came to tell you why I did what I did, why I was taking his money. It started just after we were married. You had it in your head that you were going to find your mother’s killer then too, you remember? Well, he wasn’t too happy about it. He approached me, told me that if I loved you, if I cared for you at all, I’d put a stop to it. And if I did, he said he’d reward me, handsomely too; cash payments, those you saw, but letters of recommendation and other, less tangible kinds of help too. He’s been very good to us over the years Katie. I know that’ll never excuse what he did. But he tried to make amends, in his way.”

She glared at that. “You may be a good man Will. I believe you when you say you took his money and stayed quiet to protect me. But don’t try to convince me that Senator Brown has a moral bone in his body. He’s killed too many people, some of them right in front of me, for me to believe it. He’s power-hungry and greedy and nothing more.”

“Good and evil are not always simple,” he reminded her. “But nevertheless, the deal is only good if I stop you from exposing his crimes and since I’ve been unsuccessful recently, I’m not about to win employee of the month. He’s angry, incredibly angry. I’m sure he’ll try to have you killed, if he hasn’t already. I thought, well, I hoped you might be thinking of leaving the country, so I called in a favour or two. Here,” he handed her a plain envelope. In it were travelling papers and some Canadian money. “With these, you shouldn’t be stopped at the border. They’re diplomatic papers. They can’t detain you and they shouldn’t think to question you too seriously. It’ll help you get into Canada. The names are aliases of course, so you won’t be officially recorded leaving. Once you get there, don’t use them. Think up new ones. And don’t write to anyone in New York, at least for a while. He’ll be watching your friends and family for any hint of you until he’s sure you’re gone for good.”

She stared at the envelope, stunned.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to choke out. “This will … help. You’re being awfully good about it Will.”

“People get divorced,” he shrugged. “I’ve seen it get nasty. I’m not sure we’re required to hate each other just because we no longer love each other.”

“I …” she stared at her hands before meeting his eyes. “Part of me still does love you Will, part of me always will. We grew up together; I’ve known you all my life. And I loved you so much for so long, I could never forget that.”

“Thank you for saying it,” he stood, pacing the carpet briefly while she collected herself, adjusting her skirt and standing too. “I know you mean it too, but that’s not what I meant. It’s ok to admit it. We were young and after a while we weren’t very good at being married, at least, not to each other.”

His hand was resting on her shoulder, “I should go. I know someone who might find it objectionable if I stay too long.”

“He’ll make do,” she told him. “There’s coffee, if you’d like.”

“No, thank you. I have to be at work. Oh, and before I forget, this came for you in the mail after you left.”

He handed her a parcel post-marked in Chicago. There was no return address on the underside. She set it down on the table rather than open it in front of him and showed him out the front door. She closed it behind him, both hands behind her back on the doorknob as she leant against the wood.

Castle was waiting for in his study when she went looking for him, the package cradled in one arm. Her coffee was still steaming on the opposite side of his desk. He was scrawling hurriedly on a notepad resting in his lap, his legs propped up on the mahogany wood. He looked up at her and wriggled his eyebrows. “An unexpected guest.”

“Quite,” she agreed.

“What did he want?”

“To explain and to help.”

“Well?”

“The senator approached him just after we were married - I was investigating my mother’s case then as well, albeit a lot less productively - and said he’d have me killed by Coonan too if Will didn’t … stop me.”

“I’m surprised he could,”

“I was out of my mind with grief,” she picked up her mug and rounded the desk, perching herself on the arm of his chair. He patted her leg, “You’d have to be darling. I don’t think I could convince you to do a thing you didn’t want to.”

“And don’t you ever try,” she put her arm around his shoulders and leant closer, trying to read what he was writing. He spirited it out of her line of sight. “No, it’s not ready yet. You’ll have it as soon as it is. I promise.”

She shrugged and sipped her coffee. “Suit yourself. He also gave us travelling papers. So forget the ship; we can cross the border legitimately wherever we like.”

“And you don’t think it’s a trap?”

She was taken aback and pulled away from him, crossing her arm across her body protectively. “I… yes. Despite everything, I didn’t ever believe in my heart that he would do what he did out of greed. I trust him.”

“Don’t be offended,” he ran his hand along her thigh once, patting her knee, “If you trust him then I trust your judgement. I just wanted to know what you thought of the possibility.”

“Well my instinct says he’s genuine, but I almost don’t trust myself these days,” she let her weight rest against his shoulder and reached down to clasp his hand. “I suppose you’re right. It could be a trap.”

“Or,” he countered, “I might be determined to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“How dangerous is travelling with Pulgatti’s contact?” she asked.

“I’ve not a clue,” he said. “But I’d much prefer to take the train. And you’ve known Will Sorenson for a very long time. If you can’t read him, no one can.”

“Then let’s organise to catch the early morning train instead of the ship tonight,” she ran a hand through his hair. Then, remembering the package, gestured to it. “Oh, and apparently this came in the mail for me after I left. It’s from Chicago.”

“Well go on and open it,” he encouraged.

She did.

Inside was a letter and almost 20 small black notebooks like the ledger they had found in the senator’s office; the contents spilled out across his desk.

She dived for the letter while he started flicking through the notebooks.

Katherine, you couldn’t possibly know me. I work for the New York Police Department and when I was younger, I made a terrible mistake, a mistake that I believe ultimately cost your mother her life. When I first heard you asking questions about a murder in an establishment in the city earlier this year, I thought it was fate, a chance to atone for my sins. I want to help in any way that I can, so please find enclosed a documented history of the Senator’s criminal dealings.

“Castle,” she breathed after her eyes moved over the closing (Sincerely, Roy Montgomery). She folded the letter. “This is it.”

“What?”

“Our proof,” she picked up the nearest notebook and skimmed through it. “It’s all here. Years of racqueteering and rum running operations and hired assassins. The letter explains it all.”

“The question is, what do we do with it?”

“We package it back up and hide it somewhere Ryan will find it,” she said, “Quickly, before anyone knows we have it and before Pulgatti’s men get here.”

Castle hid the envelope in a false panel at the back of his desk and left a cryptic message for Ryan, “He’ll understand. I’ve wrote him a note, told him to give it to the district attorney directly.”

“Will that be safe for him?”

“He should be able to disguise it enough that it slips by unnoticed, but even if it doesn’t, he can send someone in his stead, someone who doesn’t know enough about any of it to be corrupted.”

She seemed satisfied with that. “We still have to deal with Pulgatti.”

“His family suffered an injustice at the hands of this man too,” he reminded her, “And you’re not responsible for what he does with the information, but you did tell him you would give it, in exchange for his help. I’d rather have a gangster on my side, especially when we’re running from the law and a man who’s killed more people than I can count on one hand.”

“You want to give him the name tonight,” she stated more than asked, and it had an accusatory edge to it.

“I do,” he was standing in front of her and held her hands, “But it’s your choice. If we don’t tell him, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

She nodded once, dropped his hands and paced over to the window. The street outside was filled with the long shadows of sunset; the star was sinking further and further south in the sky as the solstice approached. Maturing trees had littered the sidewalk with their bronze and orange leaves. She let her nose touch the glass. The quiet neighbourhood was full of the signs that winter was coming. She hugged her arms across her chest and felt his presence at her back, lingering as he always did. She sighed. “Everything changes,” she said.

“Sometimes for the better,” he reminded her.

“I feel as though my entire life is coming apart in my hands,” she pulled the curtain closed again and stepped away from the window. Self-reflection was no excuse for carelessness. When she turned he stood his ground. Face to face, she watched as he took her hands.

“So what if it is?” he asked her. Like so many of their conversations, his words were laden with the burden of his full meaning.

“I don’t know,” she tried to pull her hands from his, but he didn’t let her. She turned her head instead. “I’m tired of feeling as though we’re in something we can’t control. This is my home. I don’t want to go.”

He pressed her palms together, “We can make a new home Kate. I know you don’t want to leave your father, your family. But in a few months, maybe even a year, he can come live with us if you’d like. And Lanie and Esposito can visit us. Javier’ll have to see to the business anyway. Believe me, I know how it feels. The weight of it, it’s not small. I was born here you know, and I love this city. I love that it’s the biggest city in the world and yet everyone here feels like it belongs to them. And I know it’s not your choice. I know you feel backed into a corner with only one escape, and you don’t like fate. You’ve fought it all your life. I know all of that. But if your life is coming apart, you’ll rebuild it, exactly how you want it. I promise you.”

“And you’ll be in it any way I like?” she was challenging him, daring him to take offense, that much was evident in her tone, but more than that, she was testing him. He knew it and ignored the gauntlet thrown.

“Even if you don’t want me in it at all,” he confirmed. “Any way you like, I promise that too.”

She twisted her hands to hold his. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

--

It was dark when the gangsters came for them. They lay down flat in the back of the truck, covered by blankets weighed down at the sides by their two small cases. He had expected to meet Pulgatti at the cathouse where he seemed to spend most of his time, but of course, they were taken back to the warehouse by the docks. This time, Pulgatti’s men were less rough, but they were still flanked closely. Castle was pretty sure the weight that periodically brushed against his back was a weapon. He was privately terrified, but outwardly maintained his composure. Kate, as always, looked fearless. He secretly wondered if any of the usual things scared her. He knew she did have her fears; she hated being out of control, but she was stubborn in the face of the things she couldn’t pre-empt. She met his eyes and he realised he was staring.

He shrugged in answer to a brief, curious tilt of her head.

They were shown to a different part of the warehouse, an office lit by the warm glow of a kerosene lamp. Two worn armchairs sat along a wall lined with bookshelves that didn’t contain any books. Several suspiciously shaped boxes hid just above eye level. The younger Pulgatti was seated at a desk in the corner but rose to greet them like old friends. He was charismatic, a born leader. The men accompanying him respected him enough to control their criminal natures.

Castle stepped backward and let Kate sit first. Pulgatti shook his hand and nodded in her direction.

“I’m sorry for the other day,” he tapped his forehead, “I told them to scare some sense into yer, not rough you up. Believe me, I wouldn’t wanna hurt a face like that Miss Beckett.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m fine.”

“I heard you had some information for me,” he leered at her, a mouth full of fillings exposed. “In exchange for safe passage.”

“About that,” she said, “I’ll give you your information, but we’d prefer it if you could organise for someone to accompany us to the border on the train. We have travelling papers that won’t be questioned and Castle is keen to settle in British Columbia.”

“Friends,” he explained.

The gangster looked from one to the other, mind quickly weighing his options. The air was thick with tension. Castle didn’t like confusing men with trigger-happy fingers holding guns beneath the table. He wished, belatedly, that he could have put himself between Kate and Pulgatti. There was nothing for it though. At length, the other man clasped his hands atop his desk and grinned. “Fine, fine. I just want a name.”

“Senator Brown,” she said, coolly. “Walter Robert is his Christian name. Now, could you have your people take us to a hotel? There should be a train to Chicago in the morning and I’d like to be on it.”

The ease with which she gave orders to dangerous men was one of the things he loved most about her and he told her so as soon as they were holed up in a single room in one of the city’s less prestigious lodgings. Pulgatti’s men stayed in the hall and guarded the door. She had removed the pistol from her purse and laid it in the top drawer of the dresser before undressing. They were both still tense, the feat that needed to be executed in the following days at the forefront of their minds. It was one thing to have the papers and the train tickets and a plan; it was something else entirely to follow through. She saw his restlessness. He had pulled off his tie and his shoes, and was pacing the worn carpet on sock feet.

Stretching out against the sheets in her slip, she caught his attention, smiling as his eyes traversed the length of her body, finally meeting her eyes. She patted the space beside her. “We should rest.”

“I know,” he ran a hand over his face. “But I’m not sure I can.”

“Then come here,” she murmured, managing to sound seductive and soothing all at once. He sat beside her and she knelt behind him, sliding her hands down his shoulders and pulling his shirt from his trousers. She spoke with her lips pressed to the skin beside his ear. “There are other ways to spend the time.”

“Oh my dear,” he pulled off his socks and she scooted back to the other side of the bed to let him turn and face her. He brought a hand to her cheek, stroking it gently. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say it, but I’m afraid tonight the flesh might be willing but the mind is weak.”

The allusion to Shakespeare drew a smile from her, mirthful rather than flirtatious. “Well, there are still other distractions,” she crawled closer and settled herself into the crook of his shoulder, leaning up halfway to his mouth. He took her meaning and bent to kiss her. “What did you have in mind?”

“Tell me a story,” she requested, simply, letting her palm trail along his chest. “A real story, something about you. Tell me about what you were like growing up, or the first time you kissed a girl or a secret you’ve never told anyone. If we’re going to run away together, I want to know you properly.”

He laughed at that. “Whereas before it would have been fine if we were strangers?”

She smiled, “You know what I mean. You tell me tales, all the time, about all the people we meet, but you so rarely tell them about yourself.”

“That’s because the people and stories I make up in my head are a lot more interesting than the ones that happen to me, except lately,” he said, absently fingering patterns on her shoulder. He kissed her temple, and spoke with his lips still touching her hair, so she could feel the words blowing strands askew. “Ok. I’ll tell you a story, but not about me. I’ll tell you a story about you. And when I’m wrong, you correct me. And then you do the same for me.”

She rearranged his shirt and underclothes until her cold fingers touched his stomach. “Ok,” she agreed.

He squirmed a little beneath her. “Your hands are freezing.”

“That’s not a story about me,” she chided.

He humoured her. He started with the story of how she had met Will, a touching if exaggerated tale of childhood infatuation. It was wildly off the mark. She rolled away from him, onto her back and laughed at the ceiling. “No, no,” she said, “You are right though, we did meet as children, but Lanie was the one with a crush on him. He lived next door. We never really became friends until I rescued his ball from the house of a scary old man who lived down the street.”

“Lanie had a crush on him?” he rolled on his side to search her face, “Was that ever awkward?”

“No, no,” she shook her head against the pillow, hair pins digging into her scalp, reminding her to unpin them before sleeping, “To put it delicately, Lanie always moved through her men quickly. Besides, his parents never would have allowed it, once we were older. I think she broke his heart though,” she shrugged, “We never talked about it. We were children.”

“It’s your turn,” he prompted, “Tell me a story about myself, about how you imagine me.”

“Well, your mother was an actress,” she began, “And you’ve told me you grew up backstage. I imagine that you sat at her feet in a dressing room, probably clutching a stuffed animal, and drew pictures and told your toys stories. And got yourself into a lot of trouble,” she added, “A proclivity that never ceased.”

He ran his hand along her side, stopping to wiggle his finger over her true ribs. She twisted away and swatted at his hand.

“You’re quite right,” he told her, “Though I did have a few friends; the theatre cats that I always wanted to keep and later, a few of the other girls had children. I was always the oldest, which meant I could cast all the younger ones in the more boring roles in my elaborate games. But for the most part, I grew up between the knees of showgirls…”

She gave him a look, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“And that’s where I stayed,” he bent over to kiss her, “For far too long. Mother started doing more legitimate theatre after a while. She really is talented, but with me to look after, she needed a steady pay check so she took whatever work she could get.”

“I admire her,” she told him. “She’s a great woman. Most of the women in the movement are all talk, which is fine, necessary even. But your mother actually lives it; equal rights I mean. She does as she likes and she always has.”

He chuckled. “She’d be pleased to hear you put it like that. I suppose she was a little ahead of her time. Still is, if I were to hazard a guess about things I pretend not to know about, but slowly the world catches up with her. She thinks quite highly of you too, you know. I think she thinks you’re much too good for me,” he confided, drolly.

She sat up and began unpinning her hair, finally too uncomfortable to continue laying on it. She pulled the pins out one by one and held them in her teeth. “Maybe she’s right,” she said, her words garbled, “But then again,” she removed the last pin from her hair. He reached out and brushed his fingers through the length of her hair. She turned back to look at him, “I suppose you’ll do.”

He moved to let her lay back down beside him, “I suppose I will.”
They stared at each other in the light of the bedside lamp. There was a kind of wonder in it. He would call it fate, she thought, some kind of miracle that among the hundreds of thousands of people in the world they had found each other. She didn’t usually entertain such fancies; she prided herself in being practical, of following the tangible, facts and proofs. But she did have to admit, looking at the path her life had taken, it seemed unlikely at the same time as it felt inevitable. She felt the ever present pull between them, a strange sort of gravity, swell; leaning forward, her lungs emptied in a soft rush as she leant forward, her hand reaching out to brush along his chin.

“Kate,” his voice pulled her from her musings. “What are you thinking?”

She shook her head and smiled; it was a small secretive smile that already drove him mad. He couldn’t stand not to know things. “Nothing,” she smoothed the soft hairs at the nape of his neck with her fingers, “I’m glad to have you, that’s all.”

“I’m glad,” he let his nose slide along hers. She felt stupidly sentimental and twisted away from him, laughing softly.

“What?” he asked, hands sliding around her waist as he curled up behind her. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because I…” she considered how to express it, “Because I’m happy with you, right now, when by all accounts I should be terrified. A man is trying to kill us, a murderer is protecting us, we’re about to use false passports to enter another country illegally on the lam. I feel as though I’m in one of your books and yet, here we are.”

He buried his face in her neck, teeth scraping against the skin delicately. “Maybe this is just the love scene,” he told her.

“How does it end?” she asked him.

“I think I turn off that light and curl up beside you and we fall asleep,” he murmured.

She made a noise of lazy contentment, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. “That sounds perfect.”

He didn’t sleep though. He waited until she was breathing evenly and stroked her hair a few times before getting up. There was a desk in the corner of the room. He took his notepad from his pocket and adjusted the lamp until the light was enough to write by, and took up his pen. He had felt overly inspired since they had been nabbed by Pulgatti, scribbling at every spare opportunity. Events hadn’t conspired to spare him very many, but the story was coming along quickly now that the muses were co-operating. He slipped into the page almost instantly, immersed in another world. It was better than sleep or sex for calming his mind. Writing brought a kind of narrow-minded focus that had annoyed the people closest to him his entire life. His mother complained that he had selective hearing and Meredith hadn’t liked being less than the centre of his attentions for even a minute. Interruptions felt meddlesome at such times. Luckily, Kate slept through most of it and the words fell from the pen onto the page by something like divine grace.

She did stir though, and well before dawn. She called his name, but he didn’t respond. Twisting towards the light, she held her hand up to shield her eyes and saw him writing in the corner. Smiling, she stood and stretched, and dutifully took the pile of finished sheets from beside him. She waited for him to protest, which he sometimes did, but when he didn’t, she took them back to the bed and read beneath the covers, making corrections every so often when his mind had written words in the wrong order. When she had finished, the sun had started to peep over the horizon and the night chill had reached its worst. She wrapped the blanket around her and went back over to him, her hand gently squeezing at his shoulder.

He turned and looked up at her, blinking in surprise. “Good morning,” she said quietly.

“Already,” he observed, reaching up to cover her hand with his. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“You’re the only reason I slept at all,” she assured him, bending to kiss the top of his hair. “What I had a chance to read was good,” she nodded towards the papers on the bed. “Brilliant even. I’m dying to know what happens next. Tell me.”

“No,” he leant backward as far as he could to study her face, “That’s cheating. You’ll have to wait until I write it to read it.”

She made a face. “And here I thought there would be perks to sharing your bed.”

He gave her a sly smile. “Are you saying there aren’t?”

She ignored his remark, but her disapproval was for show and less-than-stern. “Come on. We’ll miss the train.”

They dressed in relative silence. The water from the sink was icy cold when he scrubbed his hands and his face, the blue ink of his pen slipping down the sink. The day break brought with it a sense of relief. They still had a long journey ahead, she knew, and she reminded herself of that again and again as she sat in front of the mirror pinning her hair, but it seemed that the hard part was over. No one knew where they were. She had said her goodbyes to Lanie the previous afternoon, her father was ignorant and his family had left. Even Will, who had given them the means to escape, didn’t know where or when they would use it. She felt safe in their anonymity. Pulgatti’s men knocked just as they finished dressing. They looked night-worn and weary. The journey to the station was also silent.

The only vulnerable point was when they boarded the train, and to combat this, they waited in the car outside the station until they had almost missed it. They were the last passengers to board and saw no one except the conductor. The steam engine lurched to life beneath them almost immediately after they were settled. The gangsters sat closest to the door, weapons clearly visible beneath their suit coats. She sat beside Castle, her hat drawn low over her eyes. When they had made it out of the city, she removed it and let her head rest against his shoulder.

When they reached Chicago it was dusk. They changed trains and left their entourage behind. Castle had bought an evening newspaper. Across the front was a headline: New York senator shot outside his Manhattan home. She fingered it carefully, the newsprint blackening her fingers, but felt nothing. It wasn’t the justice she had hoped for, certainly not the kind of justice her mother would want, but it was Biblical in its way. She only hoped that with Ryan’s help, the evidence Roy Montgomery had sent them would exonerate the older Pulgatti.

Castle folded the paper after a cursory glance through it. She reached for it and held it in her lap. “Well that’s that then,” she dusted it with her palm.

“I’m disappointed really,” he was joking, she could tell from the mischievous air his eyes adopted, “I always thought that if I went on the lam, it’d make the front page.”

“Thankfully that honour seems to have escaped you,” she remarked.

“I never thought this would be as simple as all’s well that ends well,” he told her after a moment of silence, “Not after we began to realise how deep it ran.”

“You know it’s not really that simple,” she accused.

“No,” he agreed. “But it’s over.”

The train was crunching to a halt.

“We’re at the border,” he explained as she craned her neck to stare out the window.

“Show time,” she reached in her purse for their papers. He nodded, folded them and inspected them for several seconds before he placed them in his jacket pocket. “For the next ten hours, you’re my wife,” he grinned.

“Don’t get used to it,” she warned.

He slung his arm around her shoulders, “Would it be so awful?”

“I don’t know,” she smirked, “I’ve never been married to you. I’ve heard the reviews are mixed.”

“I could say the same for you my dear.”

She laughed. “I suppose you could.”

Half an hour later, their papers had been checked, their false names recorded in official manifests, making their crime official and the steam engine began its climb into Canada. He gripped her hand as they set off, grinning ear to ear. She was smiling too, and let him pull her into a celebratory embrace.

“We did it,” he leant back, relaxed, and pulled her back against him, kissing the top of her head.

“We still have to be careful,” she cautioned, “Just because we’ve got a head start on them doesn’t mean whoever he sent after us won’t come. Even if he’s dead, he had reach in a lot of criminal enterprises, all of which would be set for collapse once our evidence reaches the appropriate offices. But for now,” she conceded, not wanting to crush his high spirits, just to curb their extremes, “Yes. We’re halfway there.”

“And from here, it’s all an adventure,” he told her.

Fondness tugged at the corners of her mouth. “It always will be with you, won’t it?”

“If I can help it,” he confirmed, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Would you mind if I wrote for a while?”

She shook her head. “As long as I can read it when you’re done.”

“My toughest critic and my biggest fan,” he sighed melodramatically. “Well, except for Alexis. Yes, of course you can read it. But you’ll have to give me a head start.”

She smiled and turned her face to the dark expanse beyond the window. “On your marks, get set, go,” she sing-songed quietly. He was already scribbling in the notepad.

She reached into her pocket for the letter her mother had never finished writing and looked over its advice. Above them, the stars were winking in the sky. She let her head rest against the window, staring at the ancient light, her hands still resting against her mother’s familiar script. She wondered what her mother would think of her life, such as it was. She would be proud of her dedication to the truth, that much she knew, but what of everything else? Of Castle and of Will, of Pulgatti and of their crimes? She shook off the introspective mood before it took too deep a hold. The last words of her mother’s letter stared up at her. My darling daughter, you have nothing to fear. I’ve known your strength since you were barely a week old. You’re stubborn, so make it work for you not against you. And be careful with your heart, Katie, but be brave with it. She folded the paper carefully and tucked back into her pocket. She stared over at Castle, absorbed in his writing, and her mouth felt heavy with the words but she didn’t speak. He wouldn’t have heard anyway. It wasn’t exactly a shattering revelation, more a growing awareness of something she had known for a long time. She was comfortable with the secret for the present; it would keep.

“Remind me,” she asked him, “That I have something to tell you.”

“Hmm?” he looked up, uncomprehendingly.

She reached over, impulsively, and pushed his hair from his eyes. “Nothing, love. I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he trailed off midsentence and she turned her attentions back to dark expanse beyond the glass.

As she listened to the scratching of his pen against paper and the train rocketed forward into the darkness, she slowly drifted towards sleep, feeling one chapter of her life close as another approached with each passing mile.

End Part IV.