Disclaimer: All things "Castle" belong to ABC.

Author's Note: A (very belated) sequel to the fic, "Proud," by the wonderful RedGrayBall, written with his permission and at his request. So if you haven't read it, go read it now. (It can be found on my Favorite Stories list.) This fic will wait.

I decided it was about time I contribute to the massive amounts of post-"47 Seconds" fics out there, that has, of course, been dealt with so many times by better writers than I so I will leave it to you to judge how this holds up.

The Worst and the Best

He walked away. He was leaving.

Kate could only stare at the familiar sight of his back, the set of his shoulders, his gait. God, how many times had she watched him walk away from her? Every night, as he left the precinct to return to the loft. So many days. Two endless summers—after she had sent him away in a hospital.

But he had always come back. He walked away every night but he came back.

She suddenly wondered sickly if there would ever come a day that she would watch him walk away from her and know that it was for the last time, that he wouldn't be coming back this time.

He'd said see you Monday. He was coming back. Still. Even knowing what she had done. Because he was proud of her.

She thought she might be physically sick at the thought, guilt and regret twisting her stomach.

He was leaving and she needed—she couldn't let him go. She needed to stop him, needed to shout his name or run after him or something but like in a nightmare, she couldn't force a sound past her throat, couldn't force her feet to move, felt as if her feet had been encased in cement blocks for all the control she had over them.

Time seemed to slow and she could only watch him walk away.

He paused to answer a question from the bartender and she saw his profile, the curve of his lips into his familiar smile, as he made some light answer, and then he was moving again.

He had made it to the door of the Old Haunt.

He was gone, the door swinging closed behind him.

He was gone.

He was gone and she hadn't stopped him and why hadn't she managed to stop him and oh god, she needed to talk to him, needed to explain, needed to tell him…

Oh god oh god oh god. She vaguely heard her breath coming in a series of fast gasps but her hearing had gone fuzzy, all the noise in the Old Haunt fading away so all she heard was his voice, over and over again. I'm proud of you… I'm not asking for anything and I'm not even asking you to say anything… I still do… Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate…

Those words from so many months ago hit her in the chest with all the force of a punch to the sternum and she gave another choked gasp, almost a sob, one hand automatically flattening over her chest, her damaged heart that had been jolted back to life only to break again because of him, for him.

"Beckett! Kate!"

She sucked in a breath, the sound of Lanie's sharp voice cutting through the buzzing in her ears, and became belatedly aware that Lanie was gripping her shoulder like a vise as if about to shake her.

Lanie.

Of course, Lanie.

She had momentarily… forgotten… or something that Lanie had even arrived. Forgotten everything as she watched Castle leave.

"Kate, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Kate swallowed, licked suddenly-dry lips, and managed to force words. "I need—I need to go. I need to talk to him. I need to tell him—"

"Whoa, there, Kate. You don't look like you're in any condition to stand, let alone walk anywhere. You know where Castle lives; there's no rush."

Kate gave a sudden, unamused little laugh. Lanie had no idea. No rush. When she should have told Castle what she needed to say, oh, ten months ago, once she'd seen him after her shooting or at least seven months ago, after she'd returned to the City or six months ago or three days ago or anytime before today, before he'd been able to find out in the worst possible way, with her telling to a suspect the truth she hadn't yet told Castle.

"What did he say to you, anyway? Do I need to get my scalpels out?"

"No, Lanie," she hurriedly answered. She suddenly felt a little flare of irritation and guilt at Lanie's quickness to assume that Castle must have done something wrong to upset her, that Castle was the one to blame. Part of it was Lanie's loyalty but Kate was aware that she didn't exactly help matters with her own automatic banter, her habitual teasing of Castle, stemming from all the way back when she'd still thought of Castle only as the annoying jackass who'd wormed his way into her life and whom she couldn't wait to get rid of.

And Castle accepted it. Just like he had apologized to her, as if it were his fault that she had lied to him. Just like he had blamed himself for being taken hostage by Dick Coonan two years ago, just like he had blamed himself when they had been stuck in that freezer a year ago. He had a tendency to blame himself.

"He said…" Which of the things Castle had said could she tell Lanie? "He said—he told me that he loves me."

"He said what?!" Lanie's voice rose loud enough that a few people turned to stare and Kate felt herself blushing as Lanie made a little apologetic grimace. "He finally told you?" she asked much more quietly.

Finally? Kate stared. "You knew?"

Lanie rolled her eyes. "What, do I look like an idiot? Girl, anyone with half a brain who's been around you and Castle in the last couple years knows how he feels about you. And it's about damn time that he told you."

Kate ducked her head, momentarily covering her face with her hands. "No, Lanie, you don't—he first told me he loved me ten months ago," she finally admitted, her voice a little muffled by her hands.

"Ten months?!" Lanie's voice rose again and Kate saw the shock followed by the automatic calculation, the realization, of what had been going on ten months ago.

She felt a fresh wave of shame, of guilt. Oh god, what had she done? How could she have done it?

"Ten months," Lanie repeated, forcibly lowering her voice. "But Kate, you—he—what happened?"

"Nothing. Everything," Kate mumbled, aware she wasn't making any sense, and then she looked up and met Lanie's eyes squarely. Confession was good for the soul, or so they said. And it would be practice. For later. With Castle. "I lied to him."

Lanie sucked in her breath, her eyes flaring. "You… lied? About how you felt?"

Kate shut her eyes for a moment. "No, I—I lied about remembering what he said." And then she had sent him away and not called him or talked to him at all for three months.

And then even after she'd come back, she'd kept on lying to him, kept him at a carefully manufactured distance.

"Remembering," Lanie repeated and Kate saw as Lanie put the pieces together, what had happened ten months ago that Kate could claim, plausibly, to have forgotten. After all, it was the same lie Kate had told Lanie herself. Castle wasn't the only person Kate had lied to—not the only person Kate had not contacted over the summer. Lanie had forgiven her for the summer, after reaming her out, but Lanie hadn't known about the lie. Until now.

Lanie's face darkened. "Beckett, what have you done?"

"I've been an idiot," Kate found herself answering, without even thinking about it. More than an idiot, she'd been cowardly and selfish and even cruel.

"Yes."

It was probably the first time in the history of their friendship that Lanie didn't try to defend something Kate had done. Lanie was a loyal friend; she called Kate out at times but when it came down to it, she was always on Kate's side. Not anymore, not in this.

Kate met her best friend's eyes. "I'm sorry." There was more she could say. She could try to explain herself, try to justify herself, but she couldn't think of the words. Could never think of the words when it mattered.

"You need to tell him that."

Kate flinched a little. Again. "What am I going to do?" she whispered, not quite sure if she was asking Lanie or just talking to herself.

"Fix it, Beckett."

Fix it. God, how could two short words sum up what might be the hardest thing she'd ever have to do?

"And for heaven's sake, Beckett, tell him you love him."

Tell him you love him.

Her breath caught in her chest as she fleetingly forgot how to breathe, how to blink. And then the moment was over and her momentarily frozen heart was suddenly clattering around in her chest as if it wanted to escape. Tell him you love him. No one had put her feelings for Castle into so many words like that. She hadn't really even put her feelings for Castle into so many words in her own thoughts.

Tell him you love him. Because she did.

"Or I swear I'm going to have to smack you," Lanie went on. "Now get out of here, Beckett, and go see that man of yours."

The words, the phrase, finally broke Kate out of her paralysis and she pushed herself to her feet, feeling a little unsteady but no longer frozen in place. Yes. Yes, she needed to see him. Needed to see him and talk to him and tell him… tell him everything.

"Thanks, Lanie."

Lanie flapped a hand in a shooing gesture. "Go, Beckett. And I expect a full report tomorrow."

Kate went.

Afterwards, Kate had no clear memory of the short drive from the Old Haunt to the loft, only that it seemed to take both an eternity and pass by in a flash, at the same time. Castle's expression, his eyes, lingered in her mind, his voice echoing in her thoughts. I'm proud of you… I'm not asking for anything… I still do… I love you, Kate…

I'm just sorry you felt you had to keep it all inside… I owe you an apology for that, Kate…

She felt a sob build in her throat, burning her eyes, and choked back the flood of emotions. This wasn't about what she felt, could not be. It was about him, what she'd done to him. And he was proud of her! Had apologized to her! As if there was anything at all for her to be proud of, as if there was anything for him to apologize for.

God, what had she done?

She waved a distracted hand in greeting at Eduardo, the doorman on duty, and then had to press her hand to her chest once she was inside the elevator, as if to hold her damaged heart in place, feeling it rioting around.

Castle. Oh, Castle.

She didn't know what she was going to say, how to apologize, tell him all she needed to tell him. She just needed to see him and then, maybe, hopefully, just the sight of him would dislodge the lump of emotion clogging her throat and help her inarticulate brain find the right words. Or if not the right words, any words, something.

She belatedly became aware that she was wringing her hands in a way that was entirely unlike her, restless and fidgeting, and forcibly stilled them after she knocked on the door of the loft.

Nerves had her starting to talk the moment the door opened. "Castle, I—" she broke off. "Oh, Alexis," she greeted awkwardly.

She hadn't thought-had forgotten that his loft also had his mother and his daughter, neither of whom probably thought very highly of her right now. Not that she'd given them any reason to.

"Detective Beckett," Alexis said flatly, her expression cool as she stayed in the doorway.

Kate tried for a small smile, some softer expression, but couldn't manage more than a twitch of her suddenly numb lips. "I—can I see your dad? Please," she added as an afterthought, partly to try to appease Alexis and partly to avoid an uncomfortable silence.

Alexis's eyes narrowed, her lips tightening a little. She didn't respond for a second. "Why?" she demanded bluntly.

"I—I want to talk to him," Kate faltered.

"Why can't you just leave my dad alone?" Alexis went on, overriding Kate's weak response as if she'd never spoken. "Isn't it enough that he spends all day with you in the precinct, no matter how hard it is for him, but now you can't even leave him alone at home? Why can't you just give him some peace?"

Oh. Oh god. Kate could only gape at the girl, unable to defend herself-what could she say-or deny the truth of Alexis's words. She really wished she could—it wasn't like her to take an attack passively—but for once in her life, she couldn't. "I—I just…"

She just—what? Couldn't let him go, couldn't give him up. No matter that she knew he might be better off without her, without her neediness and her murders and the jagged edges of her fractured self darkening his life.

"Let her in, Alexis."

Both Alexis and Kate startled a little at the words, the sound of his voice. A testament to how distracted, how not-herself Kate was, that she hadn't even sensed his presence.

"Dad, I—"

"It's okay, Alexis," he said.

Alexis pressed her lips together, clearly suppressing another objection or protest, but she moved out of the doorway obediently, letting Kate step inside.

"Castle, I—can we talk?"

He sighed a little but nodded. "Of course. Come into my office, Beckett."

Beckett. He was calling her Beckett again. She didn't know why that suddenly seemed significant.

Alexis hesitated, hovering, and then finally spoke up. "I'll be upstairs if you need me, Dad."

His eyes flickered to his daughter, his expression easing, his eyes brightening just a shade, as they did so. "Okay, pumpkin."

The words were commonplace, meaningless, but Kate felt a little twinge of something in her chest anyway at the way his expression changed as he looked at his daughter and then back at her. It wasn't as if she hadn't known it but seeing just this one other manifestation of it still bothered her. That looking at Alexis was a source of comfort for him. Alexis made him happy. Right now, Kate wasn't and she didn't. He looked at her now as if the sight of her physically hurt.

There was no smile in his eyes when he looked at her and it was only now that it was gone that Kate realized how much she'd come to rely on it, how much the little spark of warmth, of feeling, in his eyes had come to mean to her.

She wanted it back. Needed it back.

Alexis's eyes flicked back to Kate, pinning her with her gaze for a moment, a look of warning and some entreaty combined. Don't hurt him.

Kate gave Alexis a tiny, almost imperceptible nod and hoped Alexis understood. She never ever wanted to hurt Castle; the fact that she had made her chest feel as if it were being crushed beneath the weight of her guilt.

She followed him into his office and then hesitated as he turned back to her after closing the door.

The silence stretched for a long few seconds as she stared at him, noting again just how tired he looked. Not just physically but emotionally. This might have been a hard few days, the loss of life weighing on him as it always did, but she knew it wasn't that. It was her.

He shifted and then rubbed a hand down his face in one of his habitual gestures when he was weary. "Look, Beckett, it's like I told you, I understand, I get it. And you really—we don't have to talk about this. You don't have to… feel bad or… or explain yourself to me or… anything." He paused, hesitated, and then managed a ghost of a faint smile that somehow managed to look sadder than tears. "I'm—I'll be okay."

And somehow that was what shattered her. The look on his face—not of grief or hurt but of resignation. I'm not asking for anything and I'm not even asking you to say anything… He really wasn't. It was stunning, humbling grace, of loving without any expectations. As of a man who'd fallen in love with the moon, beautiful and distant and always unattainable, knowing full well that the moon could never be his and never expecting, never hoping, for more.

It was so utterly wrong. Because this was Castle, the eternal optimist, the one who believed in magic and the supernatural, the one whose mirth and joy illuminated the world around him just as his presence had lit up her life.

Oh god, what had she done? Her throat closed up again on a suffocating swell of guilt and regret and grief and fear and love.

He went on. Of course he did. He was the one with the words, always. "And you—you've come so far and… and I'm glad. Really. Since that sniper case and, well, everything, now you—you took what was a weakness and made it a strength, used it to do your job, and that's… amazing. I—you should be proud."

Proud! The word seemed to break through the lump of emotion clogging her throat, a dam getting swept away by an overwhelming surge. "No, Castle," she choked out, interrupting him. "No, it's—you don't understand and I need to—I need to tell you…" She needed to tell him…

Lanie's words returned to her. Tell him you love him.

But first… First, she needed to tell him why she'd lied, why she'd hurt him, why she'd kept him waiting for so long.

She hesitated, bit her lip. God, she was so bad at this, at trying to explain her emotions. Baring her heart. Talking, finding words for her messed-up thoughts and feelings. Dealing with anything that went so deeply, that hurt so badly.

But that was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Deflecting, avoiding, hiding. Hiding in relationships with men she didn't love, hiding in her dad's cabin for an entire summer, hiding behind walls.

She looked at him, his so-familiar, so-dear face, his eyes. Steadily watching her, waiting for her. As always.

And found a measure of strength, of courage, in his eyes, in his look, in his presence.

I meant it. You are extraordinary.

That was what he thought she was. Still. Incredibly. Even now, even knowing what she'd done. Knowing about the worst thing she had ever done, he could look her in the eyes and tell her that she'd done something amazing and should be proud.

She swallowed, hard. She had to do this. For him. And it didn't matter if they were the right words; she just needed to give him any words, any words to explain, to apologize. "Castle, I—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I wish I could go back in time and undo what I said and did—but I can't and I hate that I hurt you and that I…" She forced herself to say it, put into words her sin. "Lied to you."

He sighed and something like a flinch flickered across his face.

"I—I just… I woke up and it just… It hurt so bad, hurt everywhere, and what you said—" she broke off, couldn't repeat what he'd said. Not now, when she was confessing just how badly she'd wronged him, how much she'd hurt him. The contrast was too great. "It was too much, everything, my mom, Montgomery, even Josh—and you. I was… I was hurting and afraid and so I—I pushed it away, pushed you away and I didn't think about it, couldn't think about anything, I just wanted to run and hide and so I did. All summer." Now that she'd started, the words came, not smoothly and not coherently but in jerks and stops and starts, but they came. And for once, she didn't filter, didn't think about her words—thinking would hold up the flood and she didn't want that. He deserved to know the whole, messy truth. "And I told you I didn't remember because… because part of me didn't want to remember, not what you said—I never wanted to forget what you said, never will forget what you said—but didn't want to remember… everything else, what had happened, the funeral, Montgomery, my mom's case… And then I came back and I didn't tell you the truth, couldn't tell you the truth because… because I was still afraid and I wanted to be better, do better, do this right." She'd wanted to do it the right way, come to him whole and unbroken, because he deserved it, he deserved the best.

She needed to do this right because this—he—was everything.

She took a breath and then a rather unsteady step forward, towards him. "Castle, what I did, the way I… lied and hurt you, it's the worst thing I have ever done and I'll never forgive myself for hurting you the way I did."

"Kate, I…" he began, his voice not quite steady and not sounding entirely like himself.

Her heart leaped. He was calling her Kate.

"I told you it's okay and I meant it. It's in the past now, over with, and I—" he paused and then went on. "You should forgive yourself, Kate. Someone very wise once said that we might be bound by our choices but we are more than our mistakes."

She choked on a sound that was both a watery laugh and a sob all at once. "Castle!" So very like him. Knowing what to say to make her smile, comfort her, reassure her.

In spite of all the times he drove her crazy and annoyed her, when it mattered, he knew what to say. When it mattered, he was always there, always had her back.

And when she'd been dying on the grass in his arms, after one of the worst things that had ever happened to her on one of the hardest days of her life, he had given her words to cherish, hope to come back to and fight for.

He gave her a small smile, not quite his usual one, and it didn't brighten up his eyes the same way, but it was real, his eyes clear and blue.

He no longer looked at her as if it hurt to see her. The light in his eyes was dimmer but the spark of it still kindled.

He still loved her.

She took another step closer to him, close enough that she could reach out and touch him. "Castle, I… I meant what I said, that lying and hurting you the way I did is the worst thing I've ever done and what's worse is…" She let out an unsteady breath and forced herself to meet his eyes, let him see the truth in hers. "What's worse is that I did this to the best thing that has ever happened to me."

He sucked in his breath, his eyes flaring with cautious hope. And her heart twisted again, that she had made this man, who believed so fiercely in magic and aliens and ghosts, become so careful, so hesitant, about hoping, about believing, when it came to her.

Her breath was shallow, her palms starting to sweat, her heart beginning to riot in her chest. This was hard, so hard, to do. To show her heart, to be vulnerable.

But he loved her.

He would wait for her. Still.

After all these months, after knowing how she'd lied to him, after everything, he still loved her and he was still willing to wait.

I'm not asking for anything and I'm not even asking you to say anything…

Oh, this man. This man who had given her so much, who loved her so much.

Her wall lay in ruins around her, wrecked by his grace, the depths of his love.

No more defenses, no more waiting, no more distance.

"Castle, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I…" Breathe, Kate. "I love you."

He made an almost imperceptible gasping sound. "Are you sure—this isn't just because I told you… what I did… I—you don't have to tell me this to keep me with you or to, I don't know, make it up to me or… something."

She inwardly flinched, his doubt lashing at her like a whip.

"No, it's—that's not—that's not the reason for what I said," she blurted out. "It's just the truth. Still is. I still do," she repeated his words from earlier and then gave him some of her own. "I always will. Always."

She waited, not daring to breathe. If that word, their word, didn't convince him… If she'd hurt him too deeply, if he'd realized he deserved so much better than her issues, her damaged heart, if he couldn't believe her…

And then his lips were crashing against hers, his hands cupping her face, as he kissed her before she even realized what was happening. His lips were soft and yet demanding and seductive all at the same time. He tasted of the Scotch he'd been drinking earlier, of hurt and fear and desperation and forgiveness and hope and love.

And she kissed him back, let her kiss confirm the truth of her words. She parted her lips for his questing tongue, hot and wet and eager, arching her body into his. He was claiming her, possessing her, branding her—and she didn't even mind it because she'd stopped trying to deny that somehow, at some time, Richard Castle had ruined her for any other man. She was his.

They finally broke apart when oxygen became an issue and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him, as he kissed her again, softly this time, little gentle touches of his lips to the corner of her mouth, her chin, her cheek, her nose, her mouth again.

"Kate, I… are we really doing this? No more waiting?"

She kissed him softly, lifting one hand to cup his cheek. "I'm here, Castle, and I'm yours."

His smile was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, could have illuminated the entire world. And then he kissed her and his kiss was the best thing ever, was everything she'd ever wanted. And she knew she was home.

~The End~

A/N 2: As always, thank you for reading. I hope everyone had very happy holidays and wishing you all the best in 2017!