But I wanna sleep next to you

And I wanna come home to you

I wanna hold hands with you

I wanna be close to you

Set during Rise

"Everybody is gone, Castle."

The words linger in the silence that hangs between them.

Kate breaks their eye contact first, pulling her eyes from his to instead focus on a spot on the floor. She wills the tears forming in her eyes not to fall.

"I'm here," he whispers, so quietly she almost doesn't hear it. Almost.

She looks up again, watches him carefully as he stands from his chair.

"I'm still here, Kate," he says again, louder this time – stronger, more confident. It's not the same, she knows it and so does he, but it's something. "We'll find your mom's killer, your shooter, we will. I'm just saying it might not be this time."

He walks over to her, stops when there's only a foot between them.

"I'm here."

She nods, stupidly, but she doesn't know what to say. Not when she's on the verge of breaking, not when he's promising her things that he can never be certain of.

She still has walls, just as she had told him on the swings, but she wants to be close to him, to hug him, to have him hold her in his arms.

Screw it.

She takes a step forward, closing the short distance between them, before wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. He doesn't hesitate in hugging her back, immediately enveloping her in his arms, pulling her closer.

"Thank you," she whispers, dropping her head to rest into the crevice between his neck and shoulder, placed perfectly so that she can breathe in the scent of him. It helps her regain her composure. "For everything."

"Of course," he answers, the words muffled by his face in her hair. "Partners."

Partners.

But they're so much more than that.

"We're… we aren't just partners, Rick. We're –" she cuts herself off, because really, what are they? Friends? No. Lovers? Not yet. But they're more than partners. "We're more."

"More," he echoes. "Okay, we're more."

"And I'm sorry… about this summer. I should have called, I just-" she pauses, sighs. It's not enough. "I couldn't."

"It's okay," he replies, and the way he says it makes her almost believe it's true. But she can see through it. There's a layer of something deeper in his tone.

She separates herself from him, takes a step back, and she can see that he's holding back. His eyes are shining with something, something more than acceptance.

It's not okay.

As thankful as she is that he's willing to move past it, what she did shouldn't be considered okay.

She promised to call him and she didn't.

"No," she huffs out, because he should be angry with her. He should be upset. He should be something, but instead he's just forgiving her, being passive, unassertive, as he always is with her; never pushing for anything more. "You have a right to be angry with me. You have a right to want more from me, to want an explanation."

"Okay, you're right. I am angry," he admits quietly. "But being angry or upset over something that we can't change isn't going to do anything."

He has a point. There really is no need to harbour anger, but he shouldn't just forgive her because of that. She wants him to push her. She wants him to expect more from her.

"You're right, it doesn't. But Castle, you don't have to just move on from it. Hell, you shouldn't just move on from it," she pushes, and it surprises her how her actions are the opposite of this summer. She's facing him head on, practically begging him to call her out, when all she did these past few months is run. "If you want to ask me something, ask me. If you're angry with me, express it. I don't want you to forgive me, or lie and say that everything's okay just because it's easier."

God knows her lie is big enough for the two of them.

"Okay, fine," he says after a few moments of contemplation. "I'm angry that you didn't call, I am. I'm trying to understand why you didn't, why you couldn't send a simple text saying 'hey, I'm doing fine, how are you?,' but it's hard, Beckett," He's getting louder now, close to the point of yelling, but it's good. There won't be a ghost of silent anger, resentment, sitting between them. He needs this, she thinks, more than he realizes. "It's hard when I know nothing of what happened over the last three months. It's hard when the last time I saw you, you had almost died."

Rick sinks into the couch when he finishes speaking and it's only then that she realizes they've migrated from her dining room to the living room. She takes advantage of that, lowers herself onto the couch next to him, sitting so that her back hits the armrest, placing a foot between them.

He sighs, lowering his head into his hands, as the adrenaline brought on by his burst of anger drains out of him.

"Do you want me to tell you about it?" she asks quietly after a moment has passed. "About this past summer?"

"Really?" he asks as he turns to look at her, surprise etched on his face. "It wouldn't hurt too much to discuss?"

She pauses. It would... but he deserves this, doesn't he?

"I mean, I'll have to talk about it in therapy right?" she answers with a shrug. She forces a small smile, feigning a nonchalance that she doesn't feel. "It'll be good to get my story straight."

"Okay, if you're sure."

She isn't, but she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a moment, and tries to gather her bearings.

She can do this. She can open up. It's the least he deserves.

"A few days before I checked out of the hospital, my dad suggested that I spend some time out of the city," she starts, before launching into the story of her summer. She tries to focus on the physical healing, only touching on the non-visible issues that she had to deal with. She's not yet ready to go into the details of her nightmares, the emotional pain she felt. She avoids talking about the days she had when she struggled to even get out of bed, doesn't mention the difficulty of separating his confession (that he doesn't yet know she heard) from the pain of getting shot.

But she opened up to him, and, for now, she thinks that might be enough.

It's not until almost an hour later when she's finished talking that she notices the tears streaming hotly down her cheeks. She looks down at her lap in a sudden wave of insecurity about what she just revealed, hoping her hair will hide her face as she wipes the tears.

"Thank you. For sharing that with me."

She looks up and sees him smiling softly at her, his eyes shining with something she can't quite place - maybe love - and she returns the smile with a watery one of her own.

"It was…" She almost says nice, but it wasn't. It was hard, painful, but she's glad that it's out there, that there's one less thing hanging between them. "It was needed."

They sit together in silence for a few moments, watching each other, with something hanging in the air between them that she can't quite place. It's not negative, not really, it's just… there.

The ringing of his phone startles them both and the moment is broken. He apologizes, before standing to take the call.

"That was Alexis," he announces, his voice almost solemn, as he returns to the room. "Apparently I missed dinner, so I should go home and talk to her."

Kate doesn't want him to leave, not quite yet, but she understands. She's likely on thin ice with his daughter as it is, so she doesn't necessarily want to add to the tension between them.

"Of course," she replies with a smile that looks just a little too forced as she stands to walk him to the door.

"Thank you, again," he says, as he stands in front of her, his hand already resting on the handle of the door. "For letting me in."

"Anytime," she replies.

He nods, about to turn to leave, but she reaches out, grabs his arm, and stops him.

"Beckett?"

She doesn't say anything, just stares at him for a moment, reads the confusion in his eyes, before taking a step forward and pressing a kiss to his lips.

It's short, just a peck really, but as soon as she pulls back she feels her cheeks reddening. She shouldn't have done it, not when their relationship is as fragile as it is, but she just… needed to. Needed him to know how she felt, even if she couldn't yet bring herself to say it.

Maybe it wasn't the best choice, her smartest decision… but words have always belonged to him, not her. She speaks with actions, and while this one may have been impulsive, she finds that, surprisingly, she doesn't regret it.

"Go home to your daughter," she states, as her eyes meet his. His shock is visible in them, maybe a bit of awe, too, but she doesn't allow him to press, or say anything else as she opens the door for him.

He leaves, promising tomorrow.

She shuts the door behind him, and finds herself leaning against it, her eyes squeezed shut.

Now what?

A/N: So this is an AU, of sorts, version of season four, where Kate had been more honest with Rick from the beginning. It will essentially look at how different episodes would have happened throughout the season had they been a bit more open with each other from the beginning. Title, as well as inspiration, taken from Troye Sivan's 'Talk Me Down'. Many thanks to Nadia and Bean for beta-ing, love you both lots.