A/N: Written for and 2nd place winner of the Castle Contest. ENORMOUS shout out and THANK YOU to Kellie/Freewheeler for being my amazing beta on this and making me work for every word.

Castle belongs to ABC and AWM/Amman

"So that's it, then."

She didn't need to look at him to know his eyes were on her, gray in the shadows of the lamp-lit loft, expression as closed to her now as it had been for weeks... months. Instead, she nodded, forcing her face into her best detective mask so he wouldn't see the broken shards of her heart splintered across the floor between them.

He cursed under his breath, turned his back on her to stare out the window.

"What went wrong, Kate?"

Her throat was dry. She tried clearing it, swallowing before she spoke. "It hasn't been working for months, Castle."

"It hasn't been working since the Friedman case."

She whipped around to face him, only to find him facing her once more. His eyes were too knowing, stripping her naked, leaving her raw.

Defenseless, she attacked. "I'm not the one taking long business lunches with the new Black Pawn intern."

Silence.

Yeah, she'd had a feeling he didn't know she knew. The snap of his mouth shutting confirmed it.

He ran a hand through his hair, his posture bent slightly, like she'd kicked him in the stomach. "She's my friend, Kate. The only person I had to talk to."

She snorted. "Friend. Right."

"Kate..." He held up a hand as if to stop the onslaught, but she ignored it.

"I'm your wife."

His eyes blazed. "My wife disappeared when she watched that little boy die."

She jerked back, as if he had reached across the considerable space between them and slapped her. Images of that night, never far from the surface, flashed on her mind's eye, and she clamped her mouth shut to prevent the keening sound trying to escape from her chest.

His eyes filled with something that looked a bit too much like pity, and he took a tentative step toward her. "You stopped talking to me, Kate. You stopped eating, you stopped sleeping. You stopped coming home at night. So yeah, I had a couple of lunches with her. She's my only friend who wasn't your friend first. You have lunch with the boys all the time. This was no different."

She sucked in a deep breath, and, pushing aside the ghosts of that night, weighed his words. "Does she know that?"

He gave a weary sigh. "Stop treating me like a suspect, Kate. This isn't an interrogation."

That stung. "Then what do you want me to say? That I'm okay with you having lunch with some blonde? That I'm fine with you pouring stories into her sympathetic ear about how distant your wife has been since a traumatic case? Because I'm not."

"Who else do I have to talk to?"

She glared at him. "Me, Rick."

He shrugged, turned away, petulant. "Talking to you has been like talking to a stone wall."

"You didn't even try." She could feel the threatening sting of tears, but she forced them down.

Once upon a time, he would have pursued her, made her open up to him whether she wanted him to or not.

Maybe he just didn't care enough any more.

He turned back to face her. "You wouldn't let me."

"That's never stopped you before."

His voice rose. "So this is all my fault now?"

She shook her head, refused to match his escalating volume. "It's both our faults. That's what I've been trying to tell you."

He scoffed. "No, you've been trying to end our marriage."

She stared at him. "You think I want this?"

"You're the one telling me you're leaving."

The broken hitch in his voice forced all the air from her lungs. She crossed the room and slumped onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. "I don't see any other choice."

He moved toward her cautiously, pausing just a few feet away, his whole body canting toward her as if he was restraining himself from gathering her up in his arms. His voice was gentle now, filled with warmth and hope. "Then stay, Kate. Please? Fight with me for this?"

She lifted her eyes to meet his once more, this time didn't try to hide the shimmer of tears she could feel burning there. "Will you stop seeing her?"

He blinked at her abrupt question, but his answer was equally direct. "If that's what it takes. Will you come see a counselor with me?"

She hesitated, her years of being splayed out for inspection by Dr. Burke in order to put herself together again heavy on her mind. It was the last thing she wanted to do. But – no.

No, not true.

Losing him was the last thing she wanted. "I... yes. Yes, that's a good idea."

He seemed satisfied with that, his eyes crinkling into that I'm-proud-of-you smile that had been absent for months. "Will you have breakfast with me in the morning, and we can set it up after that?"

She nodded. His eyes swept over her, and she was painfully aware of how ragged she felt after a full day of work and the argument that had greeted her at home.

"You look tired, Kate. How about I run you a bath? I'll pour you some wine, give you some space. Whatever you need."

She bit her lip, searching for the courage to speak her heart. "What if I need you?"

It was scarcely a whisper, a breath, but he heard her. Crossing the space between them, he reached one hand up to tentatively stroke her cheek. "You already have me. You know that."

She nodded, dizzy with his proximity as the sharp scent of his cologne surrounded her. His eyes dipped to her mouth before meeting hers once more, his pupils dilated – but then he dropped his hand and stepped back.

She couldn't stop the bolt of disappointment, even though they weren't quite there yet.

He paused in the doorway, looked back at her. "We'll get through this, Kate," he said, his eyes warm and blue. "I love you."