DISCLAIMER: I do not own Castle or any of its characters. They belong to ABC and Andrew Marlowe. Needless to say, I'm just having fun!

A/N: Kate Beckett is far and away my favorite character on this show (I know I'm in the minority, but there it is), and when I saw Always, I was very moved by the rain scene. This is only my second story, so feedback is very much appreciated.

Sugarcoated Risks

The rain, which had started suddenly enough in the west and had swept across the better part of the city by the afternoon, was coming down relentlessly as former Detective Katherine Beckett entered the playground area of the park. A quick glance around confirmed her suspicion that she was, indeed, the only fool in the area who hadn't the sense to come in out of the rain. Not even noticing when the wind picked up, bringing with it sheets of blinding rain, she perched on the seat of one of the swings and rested. The metal chains supporting the swing were cold and slick, but she didn't release them. If anything, her knuckles whitened as her grip on them tightened.

It was right here I first told Castle the truth, she remembered with a sad sigh. And it was here I took my first step toward him. Shutting her eyes tightly as a sob threatened to come to the surface, she avowed, I will not cry.

As her beautifully expressive hazel eyes hardened, her jaws clenched. Lifting her chin defiantly, she resolved instead to do what she had come to the park to do: think and decide. I have to do this, she realized, her brows knitting together as the rain continued to pour down around her. I have to make this decision, and I have to make it now! Her eyes fell to her lap, where a small pool of water was beginning to form, but it didn't register. If I go to him, I go to him for the right reasons. If I go to him, I go to him for everything. If I go to him, there will be no more running away, no more stubborn independence, no more selfishness. If I go to him, I stay.

A soft smile briefly flickered across her face before it vanished completely. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply.

A year's worth of therapy had brought her to this place, to this moment. It had taken a lot of work, a lot of pain, and a lot of letting go. But now, as she sat in the fallout of her choices, the maelstrom around her faded into the background and she set to work.

If Dr. Burke could only see me now, she thought irreverently in passing, then sobered, He'd probably tell me I'm a fool for making the decisions I've made. No, she corrected herself, he wouldn't. He'd just ask me if I thought my choices were foolish. A question within a question. She sighed.

"Dad was right," she whispered quietly, her voice barely audible as the wind snatched her words away, "When you come to the end of something, you always think back to the beginning."

Falling silent once more, she gave into her reflections. When I think about it, chances are risks wrapped in hope. And risks, whether or not they work out, always have a flipside. It doesn't always follow that each one taken will end happily, but it seems to be a universal truth that every risk left untaken always leads to doubts, misgivings and, eventually, regrets.

She grimaced slightly. Those sugarcoated risks are something I know all about, don't I? After all, I've been pursuing them my whole life. Oh, I admit not all of them have been life-or-death. She gave a small, almost inaudible laugh. Usually they've been of the boring, mundane variety—like skipping an overcoat when the weather looks promising enough, only to find the wind somewhat blustery and unforgiving—or rainy—or like taking a chance with the Chinese leftovers I put in the fridge last Monday. But some of the chances I've taken have been serious. I've taken all sorts of chances in the line of duty to take down a suspect. And, if my courage holds, I'll be taking a chance on Castle's forgiveness in short order.

It was this last chance (literally her last chance) which had changed everything for her.

Ever since that May afternoon, a year before, with the sun still battling with itself as if trying to decide if it really wanted to begin its inevitable setting, she had been dealt a hand of cards in a game of chance she felt she couldn't win. She had stood at the podium, her posture as straight as the day she had graduated from the police academy, speaking solid, robust words—words with deep, lasting meaning about a man's life cut down not by chance, but by choice. At her side had stood her team, Detectives Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito, looking solemn and proud in their dress uniforms, and her partner, Richard Castle.

At the time, there had still been unresolved tension between them all. Ryan and Esposito had actually come to blows over the case. But despite their physical altercation, they had stuck together. As for Castle? The visit he had paid to her loft just hours before Roy Montgomery's death had resulted in if not a knock-down-drag-out fight then at least a verbal confrontation. And although she had known then, deep down, that he had come to save her from herself, she had rebelled.

But Montgomery's death and Castle's intervention at the hanger had rendered that conversation (if you could call it that) null and void.

Kate believed with all of her bullet-scarred heart Roy Montgomery's brave last stand was all her fault. He had told her to make a choice, to make the decision where her line was, and he would make the stand with her. But it had been what he hadn't told her which mattered most. He hadn't told her he'd arranged for a deal to keep her safe, nor had he told her he had placed a phone call to Castle, begging him to keep her out of the hanger no matter what went down. And in the end, he hadn't told her who was behind her mother's murder.

Instead, the man she had most looked up to and admired in her life—a father figure who could be depended upon in times of trouble—had taken a chance, had tried to end it all in the hanger, alone. And he had almost, almost come out of it alive. Unfortunately, in life-and-death situations, there was no red ribbon for second place, and almost didn't mean squat. So, on that chillingly warm, abysmal May afternoon the NYPD and the 12thprecinct in particular, had gathered to give Captain Roy Montgomery the hero's memorial service he deserved.

Now that she was looking back on the moment, it wasn't so much ironic as it was sadly tragic that her sniper, a man with no face and no name, who left no trace evidence and no leads, had taken the chance she would be the one to give the eulogy. In a cruel twist of fate, his risk had paid off royally. He had taken his time from a perfect vantage point to patiently wait until she had poured out her heart and soul before putting her in his crosshairs and firing his shot. It hadn't been fate or risk or chance which had caused the bullet to rip straight through her uniform and drive deep into her chest; it had been years of training, practice, and skill that had put the bullet there.

At the impact she had gasped, her eyes widening as she turned, and given Castle a stunned expression. Castle, who had already seen something, had already been in motion, had already called out her name in warning.

Shifting on her perch slightly, she smiled wanly. In a perfect world I would have worn a protective vest. I should have. But I didn't. I don't live in a perfect world. Not by a long shot. And so the bullet penetrated my heart. One of her hands slipped from the metal chain of the swing. Unconsciously she brought it to her chest, covering the scar.

Choking back a sob, she shook her head. With her wet hair plastered to her face, the water running down in rivulets along her cheeks, she was oblivious to the chill setting in. As memory after memory of that afternoon crashed on the shore of her mind, she reached for her mental rock and clung to him with all of her might.

Castle. He had eased her to the ground gingerly, tenderly making sure she was as comfortable as she could be under the circumstances. He had said her name over and over again, as though by sheer will he could force her to instantly heal. Speech had been impossible for her, but her other faculties had still functioned. She had been able to feel his touch as he had caressed her cheek; she had smelled his scent, so comforting and familiar. And she had been able to read his face. There had been shock, of course. Shock and fear and despair and a hundred other emotions all rolled into one bleak expression. But then, just as she had felt herself slipping away, there had been seen something else, too. The real irony of that day had been that it was that expression and those words which had come out of his mouth that had done what the nameless, faceless sniper's bullet had failed to do: they had arrested her heart.

What were the chances?

I half-expected him to crack a joke, like Hey, Beckett, you certainly picked a fine place to die! or Kate, I know you believe in not wasting tax payer's dollars, but really, dying in a cemetery is a little over the top! But no. No, I should have known Richard Castle would never, ever, use something so clichéd! No, instead he chose that moment to tell me the agonizing truth.

Kate! Kate, stay with me! Please stay with me. Kate, I love you!

Her hazel eyes brightened momentarily as she recalled exactly how he had looked in that moment. Then her thoughts shifted to the aftermath and that horrible, horrible decision she had made.

Why? Why did I do it? Why didn't I tell him the truth, right there in the hospital room? Why was I so gun-shy? She grimaced. Poor choice of words. Why did I push him away? I knew exactly why he came into my room. I saw it in his eyes the moment his head peeked through the door. And I couldn't handle it then. It was too new, too raw. And there was Josh to think about.

She leaned her head against the chain as she slumped. At least that was one chance I took without looking back. It was the first time in years I didn't act like an emotional coward. When I cut Josh loose, it was the best thing for both of us.

The breakup had not gone over well with her doctor-motorcycle man. He had railed at her, accusing her despite her vulnerable condition of all sorts of infidelities. And she had taken it all in silence, aware of the irony that where Castle was concerned none of it was true. But Josh wasn't entirely off the mark, she reminded herself. He pointed out that I was always emotionally distant, that I seldom shared anything personal with him, that I was always ready to leave him at the drop of a hat to go along with Castle in the middle of the night to test one of his outrageous theories.

She smiled sweetly to herself. I don't really view that as a bad thing. I've never regretted doing that, not once. Her smile faded as her brows furrowed into a serious scowl. Anger flashed through her eyes. Of course I went out. Following leads is what I do, damn it! I'm a cop, and Josh knew that going into our relationship! Her anger burned itself out.

Still, Josh was the one who made me confront the truth about my avoidance issues. For that I'm grateful.

Her mind rolled back to the visit Castle had paid to her hospital room. It was a favorite memory of hers, one which she could now, almost a year later, replay without it hurting her intolerably. She remembered his deep blue eyes, so earnest, so tender that they had snatched at her breath. She remembered what he had worn and how he had walked and just how precious he had been with his spray of flowers in hand.

I was so afraid! she admitted, putting her free hand to her forehead. I was afraid of what he was going to say, right then, in that moment. I just knew I couldn't handle hearing those words again. It was too soon and I was too vulnerable. The last thing I wanted was for him to be saddled with a woman so emotionally needy. She laughed at herself. Yeah, like I'm not emotionally needy right now!

So I did what I always do. I pushed him away. Then I did something I try never to do: I lied.

Her tears started to fall then. Weeping bitterly in regret, she let them come. After a few seconds it was impossible to tell her tears apart from the storm's raindrops.

Just recently, Dr. Burke told me I wasn't ready to accept Castle's words because I needed time to heal. He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't entirely right, either. Lifting her head from the chain, she sat up straighter, one hand dropping into her lap. I needed time to come to terms with how I felt about him in return.

Beckett's beautiful hazel eyes, still dilated with unshed tears, lightened. Turning from brown to a deep green to a soft green-gray, they reflected her mood perfectly. She was taking apart her wall, brick by brick now. And for the first time in a very long while, she was comfortable with the tiger waiting to be unleashed on the other side.

Those three months I spent in the cabin were a balm to my soul. Without distractions, I had the time to do a lot of soul-searching. I spent a lot of time rebuilding my physical strength so I could return to the Job. But the real benefit of the time I spent there was the rebuilding of my spirit.

During those long summer months she had had nothing to do but think and pray. Although prayer had not been a huge part of her life after her mother's death, she had given it another try. To her surprise, she had found that God was still a great listener. That discovery was a private one she hadn't shared with anyone after her return. Not Dr. Burke, not Lanie, not Ryan, not Esposito. Not Castle. She hadn't even told her dad. For some reason, she knew none of them would understand. How could they when she barely understood it herself?

All those years avoiding Him, and for what? She looked heavenward. You were always there for me, she acknowledged silently. But until last summer, I pushed You away. Just like I pushed Castle away. She sighed again. I won't be making that mistake again.

Still, all of the time spent in deep thought had yielded tremendous fruit. When she had finally returned to the city in September, she had felt equipped to handle anything in her path. She shook her head in sardonic amusement. I can't believe I was so gullible! I actually thought I'd be able to jump right back into the deep end without any residual sideeffects! If it hadn't been for Castle and the boys, I—

She didn't finish the thought. Instead she focused on her long-overdue reunion with her partner. He didn't want to see me, she reflected, her eyes turning dark again. And I didn't blame him. But then, when we finally talked—here—I thought we came to a mutual understanding. She sighed and looked out across the playground. Castle's a writer for God's sake! He's supposed to get subtext! When he asked me why I ended things with Josh I told him the truth. I told him I liked him but that it wasn't enough. And then I did the one thing I thought I'd never have the courage to do: I explained everything to him as simply as I could.

A large, renegade tear escaped and trickled down her face. Swatting at it irritably, she forced her thoughts to troop on. Why, why couldn't Castle have just listened when I told him about the wall I erected after Mom's death? I told him I needed closure before I could become the woman I needed to be in order to be in the relationship I wanted to be in. Why didn't he pick up on the implication I meant him?

Beckett heroically resisted the urge to stand to her feet and pace. That her boots were already covered in rain-soaked mud made no impression on her. Instead she gripped the chains on either side of the swing again and began to rock gently.

For a long time she swung forward and backward, her thoughts and feelings floating on the wind. Every once in a while a memory of Castle settled in her mind and she willingly gave into it. Some of those memories were painful—sharp reminders of the turmoil she had caused him or the hurt he had caused her. Others were more pleasant, more hopeful, like the time she had "let him" talk her into going to the haunted house just to investigate something which could easily have held until morning. Or like the moment (one of her favorites) when she had been so relieved to see him sitting unharmed—if a bit dusty—in the bank vault after the explosion that had rocked her world.

I'll never forget how he looked at me in that moment, she told herself, her heart warming at the memory. It was the first time since I returned to work that I felt like he meant what he said the day I was shot.

The truth was she had thought about those words a lot during her recovery. She had leaned on them like she had her physical therapy and her counseling sessions. Somehow being armed with the knowledge he loved her, really loved her, was enough to pull her out of her darkest funks.

There had been so many times when they were working together she had found herself searching his face, reading those brilliant blue eyes, hoping to see some kind of physical manifestation of his declaration. And often she had found more than she had bargained for. As the days had turned into weeks and then the weeks into months, she had felt herself relaxing. And the more relaxed she had become, the more she had opened up to him.

Not that there weren't hiccups along the way, she thought dryly. Her mouth curled into a disgusted grimace as she remembered their run-in with Serena Kaye. Flushing in mortification, she gripped the metal chains a little tighter.

"I still can't believe I wanted her to be guilty of murder just because I was jealous!" She didn't realize she was speaking aloud again. "And then, what did I do at the end of the case? I stupidly gave Castle the green light to pursue her! Ahh! How could I have taken that chance?"

The storm rolled out its answer in the form of thunder. She lifted her eyes heavenward and sighed. Thank you God he didn't go after her!

But Serena was just one of many road bumps along the way. Taking the time to carefully review each and every one, Beckett felt her burdens lifting from her shoulders. It seemed the more she processed the pain, the more she healed. When she reached her review of the last month, however, her resolve almost failed her.

I thought I was in love with Castle at the end of our second year together. But I was wrong. She felt a warm flush steal up her neck as her cheeks burned with lovely color. What I felt then, compared to how I feel about him now, is a totally different thing! Back in those days, I was fascinated by him. I was attracted to him. But I wasn't in love with him. When he hurt me—and he did hurt me—by taking Gina to the Hamptons with him for the summer, my world didn't fall completely apart. I picked up my bruised pride and promptly went out and found the tallest, handsomest, darkest doctor-motorcycle man—okay, boy—I could find.

Suddenly she gasped. Leaping from the swing, she stood transfixed as everything suddenly fell into place. It all makes sense! Beckett's eyes were shining in her excitement. Where is Castle when I need him to build theory! She laughed lightheartedly. All this time, all this time I've been wondering why he pulled away, why he suddenly showed up at crime scenes with dumb blonde bimbos. He was only reacting the way I did when I picked up Josh! What was it Castle told me? Maybe he didn't need complicated? She shook her head, unable to remember his exact words.

I must have done or said something that made him feel rejected. It was still a mystery to her, one which she was growing weary of trying to solve. Does it even still matter? She bit her lip, thinking long and hard about that particular answer. Then, shaking her head, she came to a conclusion.

A picture of the young Latino suspect she had questioned in the box during the Wall Street bombing flashed through her memory. She remembered leaning forward, driving home her point. All of the color in her face abruptly receded, leaving her feeling weak. She fumbled for the swing seat and, clinging to the metal chains once more, sank onto it. Oh, God, he must have overheard me!

The anguish filling her soul was almost unbearable. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly until she felt she could face the realization and still remain in control. I never should have hidden that damned secret. Or told that damned lie in the first place! I could have told him the truth so many times. But I didn't.

She smiled ruefully. Oh, Castle! I'm so, so sorry I've hurt you! But reject you? Never! Her chin lifted again. I meant what I told you back when you brought around your silly young protégé. I'm a one-writer girl. Always.

Involuntarily her mouth curved up at the corners as her eyes sparkled. "Apparently Castle and I have very different definitions of the word 'always'!" She laughed softly as she pictured the look he would have given her if he had been there to hear her comment. When I said it I meant it, but apparently for you there's a time limit to the word.

How could I have been so blind to the truth for so long? I love him. I didn't always like him, but I have always loved him. The knowledge hadn't come to her in a quiet, romantic dream or while listening to a song. Nor had she realized the truth the million and one times he had sent tingling sensations up and down her spine. Nor had she seen the light when he had held her close or saved her life. The truth of it had come to her out of left field, unexpectedly. He had simply shown up on a wet, miserable Monday in autumn with two cups of coffee, optimism and a smile. It had been "stick a fork in her and she was done." Finished.

My one-and-done, she quoted silently to herself. Without him, there's nothing. A vast emptiness. Like there was when he walked out of my apartment yesterday. A hole much larger than that damned bullet opened up in my chest. And I can't stop the bleeding. I love him more than anything. But it took me nearly dying—again—to see it. I will not—will not—take a chance on losing him again.

Before her resolve could leave her Beckett stood to her feet again. Walking away from the swing set, she headed toward the park exit.

Oh God, she prayed silently, please, please let Castle forgive me! He just has to! I didn't realize it that day, but I didn't need closure for Mom's case; I just needed him! I've made so many mistakes in my stubbornness and pride. Please, please work on Castle's heart. Please help him to love me again.

The tears were flowing unashamedly down her cheeks now, but she felt relieved and at peace.

It all comes down to choices and chance, she told herself again, her thoughts keeping pace with her feet. Tonight I'm going to be taking a big, big chance that Castle will forgive me, that he will let me in at least long enough to apologize. And if he does, I will take the biggest chance I've ever taken. I'll tell him bluntly the best way I know how exactly what he means to me. She smiled to herself but it never reached her eyes. And if that doesn't work, then I'll just have to physically demonstrate my point until he gets it.

For a moment, Beckett entertained the idea of hailing a cab but dismissed it almost immediately. I'm already soaked to the bone, she reminded herself, unaware of just how stunningly vulnerable and sexy she looked. I might as well walk the rest of the way.

Pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, she scrolled through her contacts until she found his name. A moment later she was counting the ring tones. One. No answer. Two. The same. Three. Don't abandon hope, Kate! Four. Voicemail.

Damn it, he's purposefully ignoring me! Well, if he thinks I'm going to give up that easily, he is very sadly mistaken. He invited me for a John Woo date, damn it, and I'll be damned if I let him shut me out or stand me up!

Ten minutes later she was in his building. Castle's doorman recognized her immediately, and ushered her right in. When the elevator doors opened and she stepped out to stand in front of the door to his loft, her courage nearly failed her. Steeling herself, she knocked then held her breath.

She didn't have long to wait. In an instant the door was open and he was standing there, very surprised. Then the look in his eyes changed and every insecurity and doubt she had came streaming back tenfold.