Bare

Rating: K

I own nothing. I am quoting Marlowe et. al. from the season 3 finale in part 1.

A/N: Why the long, meaningful glance at the funeral? Why the long-awaited admission? Missing scene from the season 3 finale. Part one of five. It just doesn't fit that they didn't have some personal interaction between the hangar and the graveyard.

Ryan and Esposito rose first, Castle taking his cue and rising too. Ryan tried and failed to inconspicuously wipe the moisture from his cheeks.

"See you tomorrow, Beckett," Esposito's voice was rough and missing his usual bravado.

As the detectives crossed to her door, Castle hung back slightly and brushed her elbow with his fingertips. She spun to face him, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

He spoke softly, so his voice hardly carried beyond her ears.

"If you need anything, if there's anything I can do, please, Kate…"

"Actually, there is something. Stay for a minute?"

He couldn't hear her words to Ryan and Esposito as she let them out and locked the door.

Castle stood where she had left him, in her living room, shoulders slumped, eyes on the floor. Kate didn't try to engage him as she crossed through the room. Her voice was a tight, subdued imitation of normal.

"I have to speak tomorrow. I wrote some notes this morning. I would really appreciate it if you'd take a look. Tell me what you think?" Beckett disappeared into her bedroom and returned with a spiral notebook. "Sorry about the handwriting. I didn't have time to type them up yet."

"Kate, I'd be honored." He looked at her, tried to draw her eyes, but she was studiously avoiding him.

He gave up, took the offered notes and sat back down on the couch. She hovered behind him for a moment, but then he heard her footfalls walking toward the kitchen. As he read the notes, written with blue ink in her looping hand, he was struck by her honesty and the admiration that flowed so easily off the page. Admiration for a man who had been at the root of the greatest tragedy of her life. He was amazed still at the absolution she had offered so quickly the night before. Somehow the sin for which their captain died was not the lasting impression Montgomery's life had made on hers. One passage near the end of the eulogy was more appropriate than anything he could have written, even at his most inspired:

Roy Montgomery taught me what it meant to be a cop. He taught me that we are bound by our choices, but we are more than our mistakes. Captain Montgomery once said to me that for us there is no victory; there are only battles. And in the end, the best you can hope for is to find a place to make your stand. Our captain would want us to carry on the fight.

He closed the notebook and crossed to find her. She sat at her kitchen counter, staring at her hands folded in front of her. He had never seen her look so defeated. He placed the notes next to her hands and placed a palm between her shoulder blades.

"This is beautiful. I wouldn't change a thing."

She seemed to wake a bit from her trance with his words and his touch. She turned her face toward him, though she didn't actually look at him.

"Thanks, Castle. Words just don't come all that easily to me. I never know when what I say is too much, not enough..." She slid off the barstool, shrugging out from under his hand, and walked toward her living room. She paused halfway there. "There's one more thing, actually, if you have time."

"Today, I am at your disposal, Detective. I saw Mother and Alexis this morning. They know I have things to do today. They told me to tell you they're thinking of you and they'll be there tomorrow."

She resumed her course to a cabinet across the room and scanned the contents. She selected an unopened bottle of amber liquid and turned to show it to him. The sun had peaked through the gray clouds just in time to set, and a beam of light illuminated her face as she met his eyes for the first time since the hanger the night before.

"Roy gave this to me the day I solved my first case, right after I made detective. He told me I should have something nice to celebrate with. I've never even opened it. Never thought an occasion really warranted it. But now… now I think he would like it if I shared it with you."

"I would love to toast Roy."

Castle took the bottle from her to inspect the label, and his eyebrows rose.

"How do you take your Scotch?"

"This stuff? This stuff I'll take neat. He wasn't kidding when he said 'something nice.'"

"Well, maybe not prohibition hidden basement vault quality, but it's better than anything I've ever bought for myself." Just a hint of a smile quirked at one corner of her mouth when she mentioned their case at the Old Haunt.

She grabbed two glasses from the kitchen and joined him on the couch.

"I think you should do the honors, Kate."

She took the bottle, twisted off the top and poured two fingers for each of them, then raised her glass in his direction.

"To celebrating life."

"And to friends, past and present."

They clinked the double-old-fashioneds and sipped in silence for a moment. He wished he could see inside her head right now. He was so used to finishing her sentences, and now he was simply at a loss.

She was looking down into her glass, swirling its contents, when she spoke again.

"I broke up with Josh."

"What? Oh. When? I mean, never mind." He shook his head slightly. "That's none of my business… I'm sorry." He had no idea what suddenly prompted her to reveal this long-awaited piece of news. Though his heart leapt, he tried to mute his burst of happiness. He had no right to think this had anything to do with him. Besides, she wasn't meeting his eyes again.

"The day after we got back from LA."

"Oh." That had to mean something. Eloquence had apparently left him, though.

"That letter from Royce, he gave me some advice. It rang true, all of a sudden. What I've been doing, and not doing, with my life since my mom died. You were right." She said it in a very matter-of-fact tone, as though it should be obvious to what she was referring. He was still processing the fact that she was talking about Josh, and Royce, and her mom, things she rarely discussed even with him.

"About what?"

"About what you said the other night. About us never talking. About almost dying together twice in a couple of days. About an amazing kiss in the absolute worst circumstances."

She paused to take a sip of her drink and shifted her gaze to the window.

Had she just admitted she thought the kiss was amazing? He took a long drink in order to keep himself from saying something that might break her concentration. Thankfully she continued.

"About how, despite my ability to shut out everyone who ought to matter to me, you have managed to insert yourself into my life. About how you just keep chipping away at the walls, like they don't even apply to you."

She turned to look at him then with eyes that were fear and frustration and sadness and something else he couldn't really identify.

"I think I just figured that if I never let anyone in, then it wouldn't hurt so much if I lost them. But with Royce, and then with Montgomery, it just didn't help." She blinked hard and shifted her gaze back to the window. "It still hurts like hell. And I'm left sitting here, thinking that I spent so many years keeping them at arm's length for nothing. I stopped feeling good just so I wouldn't feel bad. And now it turns out it doesn't work like that."

She finished her scotch and placed the glass heavily on the table, closing her eyes. He saw one tear escape anyway. He set his glass next to hers. He wanted to touch her, hold her hand, wrap his arms around her, let her know that the tears were OK. But he was terrified of breaking this spell that had her talking to him.

She let out a long breath, opened her eyes, and turned to face him again.

"Rick, I didn't want to talk to you, because then I would have been admitting how much all those things that happened between us mattered to me. How much you matter to me."

He couldn't take it any longer. He reached out and covered her hand with his. She started to slide her hand out from under, and he thought he had acted too soon, but instead of pulling back, she laced her fingers with his. His heart swelled, and his words returned.

"Kate, you know how much you matter to me. I'm here, however you need, or want, me to be—I want whatever part of yourself you're willing to share. I just don't want you to be alone."

"That's just it. I'm terrified of being anything but alone. I'm terrified of wanting more. But I'm so tired. I'm tired, and I'm sad, and sometimes the weight of keeping it all to myself is just too much."

She squeezed her eyes shut and a few more tears escaped. He reached for her other hand and she gripped it like a lifeline.

"It's OK. I'm here. Let me help."

She let out a tiny sob and leaned into his chest, her head resting against his neck. He let go of her hands and held her tightly to him.

He was crying too, now, as he whispered soft words of comfort in her ear. He buried his nose in her hair.

"We're going to be OK. We'll figure all of this out. We'll find the person who took your mom and Roy. I promise."

Her breathing finally evened out, and she let go of the tight grip she had on the front of his shirt. She smoothed out the fabric but didn't move to pull away from him. She cleared her throat and took a breath.

"I want more, Rick." Her voice was even, calm. "I'm so tired of having pieces of a whole life."

His hands were stroking up and down her back, and he felt her words reverberate through her ribcage.

"You can have whatever you want, Kate. Say the word and you can have anything I can give you."

She did pull back then, and he saw determination in her red-rimmed eyes as they looked up into his.

"I want everything."