Exit Wounds
Summary: The truth will set you free... Secrets are revealed, damage is done and relationships are tested to their limits.
Disclaimer: I don't own them and never will. I'm only borrowing them for a while.
"It's time for you to tell him, Kate," Dr. Burke urged quietly, his voice a low rumble. "If you want to move forward, if you want to start out a relationship right, you need to tell him."
Kate stood at the window, her brow furrowed and arms wrapped around herself in an attempt for some sort of comfort. She watched as people went about their daily business, seemingly unconcerned and untroubled while she was trying to put herself back together again; collecting the shattered parts of herself, the scattered ruins of a wounded soul. And she had been doing that every week, every session – little by little. She was gaining ground a little more, healing a little more, growing a little more. Little pieces of the girl before she lost her mother, small pieces of the woman before the scars, shards of her broken life. She was molding herself into someone more, someone who could give her heart freely and who could receive love in return.
Someone without a wall.
But her therapist was now suggesting that she pull the rug from under her own feet. That she potentially tear her partnership, her friendship, her potential relationship with the man she loves apart. It has been eight months since the shooting. Eight months since she heard Castle brokenly whisper those three words to her while her blood stained his hands, while her tragedy crushed his heart. Eight months since she sent him away with nothing but his offered heart and dull hope. Five months since she came back to him - not whole, but alive and healing.
"I don't know if I can," she said softly, turning back to Dr. Burke.
"Why not?"
She only shrugged in response and sat down.
"I think you know why," he urged softly.
She pursed her lips and swallowed thickly, fixing her eyes on the carpet. "Because I won't survive if he leaves," she whispered past the lump in her throat.
"Do you truly believe that he'll leave?"
She turned gaze to the window again and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her thighs. She took a moment before answering, shifting dark, solemn eyes back to her therapist.
"Who would stay after what I've done? God knows I've hurt him enough already. I've rejected and pushed him away enough already." Kate pressed her lips into a thin line, struggling to keep the tremor out of her voice. "I would leave."
Dr. Burke watched her for moment. "But is this really the way you want to handle this? Bury everything and hope that it doesn't come up?"
Kate sat back and brought her legs unto the couch, wrapping her arms around them. "No, of course not." She rubbed her hands over her face in frustration. "It's just…" she trailed off, not able to find the right words.
"Just what, Kate?" Her therapist prodded gently.
"It's just feels so much easier to forget, to pretend it didn't happen, you know?"
Dr. Burke leaned forward, his calm, warm eyes watching her.
"Is it really easier for you to pretend it didn't happen? To pretend you didn't hear what he said?" He gave her a moment to process the questions before continuing, his voice like a soothing balm.
"And what about him, Kate? Do you think it's easier for him to pretend he never said that he loved you?" At that, her head snapped up, her eyes widening. "Have you ever considered what he had to go through? Never knowing whether the woman he loved would live or die, never knowing whether he would have the chance to see you again."
'I watched you die in that ambulance. Did you know that? Do you know what that's like? Watching the life drain out of someone you… care about?'
Her eyes welled up and she looked away, trying desperately to see past her blurry vision. To her shame, she never did consider what he had to go through. She left him for three months, cut him out of her life, pushed him away. At the time, that was the only way she could cope, she could survive. And it helped her get through the worst, helped her from falling deeper into a never-ending rabbit hole. She was a mess and her heart wasn't ready to accept what he was offering. She wasn't in the position to give him anything back.
But it scarred him, damaged him, hurt him.
"What am I supposed to do?" She asked, her eyes teeming with unshed tears, her voice cracking under the strain of emotion.
Her therapist watched for a long moment. "You need to decide what you want, Kate."
Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Do you care about him?"
Her brow creased further. "Of course I do. He's my partner."
"And you're in love with him?"
Her eyes snapped up to his, her mouth parting in surprise. They haven't talked too openly about her feelings for Richard Castle. Just his feelings for her. Her thoughts drifted to her partner, her best friend. The corner of her mouth lifted into a ghost of a smile, her features coated in affection.
"Yes," she answered softly, biting her lower lip. "Yes, I am."
"And do you want to be in a relationship with him?"
She only nodded in response, her eyes on her fidgeting hands, the scar on her side feeling tight with every stuttering breath she was taking. She wanted to love and be loved by him so badly, it hurt.
"Then tell him, Kate." She lifted her eyes to the window, streaks of golden light painted the room in warmth. But instead of feeling a sense of comfort and peace, the cold weight of dread settled into the cavity where her heart was beating steadily. She wouldn't survive if he left-
"And have a little faith in him, in how you feel about each other."
He was still stuck in the same place. The same place where he was five months ago. Just more questions and fewer answers. The only piece of additional information he had, was that this was much bigger than anyone of them thought. Johanna Beckett's murder and her daughter's subsequent shooting included shadowy figures that were way beyond their reach. And the involvement of the mystery man who had called him five months ago, who helped him during the Mayor/call-girl case, just made it even more puzzling and only led to more questions. What was Montgomery involved in? And more importantly: what leverage did he have that kept the Dragon away from Kate for all these years?
Well, all these years, except eight months ago.
Rick sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, sitting down on the edge of his desk. He was tired. In more ways than one. He was especially tired of having to restrain himself constantly around her, of taking down her wall (more like a fortress) brick by tedious brick, of waiting for their stars to finally align.
But he would wait for the rest of his life if it meant that he could have her heart in the end, if it meant that his future could be written in the language of her love, if it meant that she could be the epilogue to his life.
He was snapped out of his rather morbid thoughts when his phone rang, her smiling face lighting up the screen. The line of his mouth curved upwards slightly as he picked up his phone.
"Why Detective Beckett, have you missed me?"
He could practically see her eye roll. "Don't flatter yourself, Castle. I'm picking you up in fifteen-"
"For a date?" He teased.
She grinned, feeling entirely too happy in hearing the mock excitement in his tone. Jeez, it was just a joke. "Only if you could put out, Castle. And I don't think you're that slutty."
He barked out a laugh, surprised and pleased. "Well, I could make an exception," he murmured.
Her smile softened, too completely in love to care that they were dangerously close to tip-toeing over that line that kept everything comfortable, everything friendly, everything just enough.
For now.
"Tell you what, Castle, I'll take you out for a burger after we solve this murder, 'kay? And don't worry, I won't put any pressure on you for anything else."
He grinned. "Deal."
"See you in fifteen," she said before ending the call.
The remnants of a smile that remained on his lips, slowly slid away as Rick caught sight of his murder board, his lie, his secret.
Her protection.
"We need to remove him to get to her."
"Sir, we've tried that already, but Smith is blocking us at all ends. He's making sure that the writer is staying at the precinct," the dark-haired, forty-something man protested.
The older, white-haired, distinguished-looking man leaned back in his chair. His eyes were cunning, calculating, calm.
"I'm not talking about removing him temporarily." He shifted forward, his features growing hard. "Get rid of the him. Permanently."
A/N: Yeah, I probably shouldn't start writing another story when I have so many still in progress... and when I start working next week. But, whatever, this has been in my mind for a while now so I want to give it a shot. Hopefully you'll also give it one.
Review please and tell me what you think! It always helps the muse.
My apologies if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes.