The War in Her
The grief will hit her in a surge, unpredictable, unexpected, always painful. It's like a collision: the initial shock, the brief suspension with only the thought "oh shit", before the overwhelming hurt. It doesn't creep, doesn't wrap itself around Kate, not slow, like a vine twisting around her heart, squeezing her internal organs. That's the way the sadness used to be, tangled, constricting, inescapable.
But now, it's in moments, probably triggered by something she can't see, can't remember, when the grief hits her. It stabs – a knife thrown from across the room – and it makes her stagger with the enormity of it. Unsuspecting, she can be sitting interrogating a suspect, filing paperwork, reading a book when it comes, and she feels her insides crumble.
It's better when she's alone. Then she can find an abandoned hallway or seek out the sanctity of her apartment. Kate can hide away from the world, let the pain fill her, control her. She can curl up and feel like she's drowning, lose her vision with the tears welling up, threatening to fall, but never escaping because that would be too easy, too simple. It's a war, and she loses every time.
It's when it hits her when she's with people that it's the worst, just unfair really, because she's dying but she can't tell anyone, can't let on. Every step, every movement, every breath is a trial, but she can't show it.
Kate's not sure what sets it off this time, but her heart quickens and she feels the blood in her veins turn to sludge, unwilling, unable to pump. Castle and the boys are laughing, and she just was too, but the laughter dies in her throat and won't - can't - come out.
She's lucky she's sitting, because it's a moment later when she feels her legs go weak. The smile falls from her face, before she forces it her mouth into something she hopes will look like a half-smile. Turning to the computer, she avoids meeting anyone's eyes – it's too hard, too close – and begins typing up a warrant. She will do anything to block the sadness from creeping out of her abdomen where it's taken root, branching upwards, sneaking through her body.
Her stomach flops once, her abdomen muscles clenching, and she schools her features, making sure she doesn't react to the pain. She feels Castle's eyes on her, but she wills her boyfriend to stay silent and look away. She does not need the pity, the concern – that will only make it worse, unbearable. She needs him to ignore it too, because the idea of him trying to understand…
He is still staring, and it's too much, absolutely too much for her to handle, and she excuses herself. Esposito and Ryan give her a look before backing off, recognizing the expression on her face, and she has half a mind to thank them for it, but that would be acknowledging this, so she strides off with only a half nod in their direction.
Castle's footsteps sound behind her. She wants to beg him to turn back, but she is already moments from tears or a breakdown or pure combustion. Right now, she needs to find her refuge and can't spare a moment. Taking the steps quickly, she bounds to the basement, signs in to the archives, strides down a few rows, turns a couple of corners…
And slides to the ground by the wall.
Kate pulls in her knees, wraps her arms around them, and leans her forehead onto her kneecaps. The tears aren't coming – that's good, she thinks, but Kate knows it would be easier if they would fall, and it's just another punishment that she can't cry – and she's not shaking or breathing unsteadily. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that every beat of her heart feels like death, that she can actually sense the reluctance of her blood to pump, she'd be doing okay.
Ha. "Okay." What a joke.
His hand touches her hair lightly, takes a few strands and twists it lightly between his fingers as he brushes down her head. Castle squats, looks at her for a moment, but she won't look at him. She loves him; she hasn't told him yet, but they both know this. She loves him, but this is the first time since they've gotten together that the pain's come like this, swiftly, debilitatingly, and she doesn't know how to bring someone else into this mess. She doesn't know how to let someone love this part of her, because Kate hates it so much.
He guides her into his arms, against his chest. She goes, because Kate wants him, wants his comfort, even as she can imagine her poisoning him, even as it hurts more to let him in. His head falls, lips brushing against her ear. "Nobody will find us here, right?" Because even now, Castle's thinking of her job because he knows what it means to Kate. So she nods lightly, and feels him move again, so that his lips just graze her hair, before he rests his chin on her head. And it's insane really, because who's this considerate, this patient?
Suddenly it's too much. The pain and the comfort collide and explode in her, and she's on her feet in moments, a foot away from him. She doesn't know what this is she's feeling; here she is, fourteen years later, and she thought she knew this grief through and through but this is all new. There's a boiling in her stomach, this sense of guilt mixed with sorrow mixed with this evil tint of hope.
Castle's staring at her while he slowly stands. He's measuring her, trying to figure out the new rules of the game. His mouth is a little open in surprise, and she stares at it, wants his lips on hers, before she realizes she CAN have him, that they're together and his mouth IS hers.
In a stride, Kate collides with Castle, their lips crashing together. She swipes his lip, pushes the kiss deeper, and her tongue sweeps inside, tracing a path over the roof of his mouth. He moans – it might have been her name but she's not sure – and it's delicious, powerful, and she wants more, because just for a millisecond she forgot the pain. Castle's still surprised, hands halfheartedly resting in her hair, but when she moves her hands, raking down the fabric of the shirt on his back, his one hand twists in her locks and the other slides down her side to grip her hip, tease at the hem of her shirt.
Her heart stabs once more, and she breathes sharply, before she pushes Castle with her whole body, hard, sending his back colliding into the brick wall. He lets out an oomph, the air in his lungs rushing out, but she ignores it, nipping his lower lip, moving to his jawline and down his throat to find his pulse point with her lips, sucking hard.
With the sounds he's making, it's almost enough to ignore her heart. But it's not actually enough, she needs more. So Kate sneaks a hand between their bodies, lightly tracing a path downwards. Castle's stance shifts, his thigh coming between her legs and she bucks into the feeling just as her fingers reach Castle's zipper and she pulls it down, slowly, teasing. She's searching for control, so when Castle reaches between them to work on her own belt, she captures his wrist, holds it against the wall, shaking her head no. It's her quest for control right now, her need to feel anything, anything, other than what's taken root in her. Pushing the thought out of mind, she drops to her knees as she pulls down Castle's pants, then his boxers. Castle's making noise of protest now, because he's half naked in the middle of the precinct and what if someone finds them, but she finds he shuts up when she reaches an experimental tongue out, circles the tip of his cock. Her lips curl into a semblance of a smile, but it's stupid because there's no happiness in Kate right now, just this desperate need. It's a moment later when she pulls him into her mouth entirely, and the motion is so sudden, Castle bucks his hips up into her mouth with abandon.
Ah. Control. She's gotten some degree of control back. Her hand pushes hard against Castle's hips, stilling him. This is her show. She's in blissful control.
Each time the pain settles back in, she uses a creative swipe of her tongue to show that she can still control something in her life, that she runs this show.
Castle does not last long with this seductive side of Kate, who's pulling out every trick in the book, and she feels the control slipping away as he comes. He lifts her to her feet, and it's her back against the wall now. They're kissing, and it's hot and passionate and she loves him, is still turned on, but the control's gone. And she can't get it back, because he's come and what's left, and oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
It's paralyzing, this type of pain, and she stills, doesn't move, can't speak. Castle realizes it five seconds later, pulls away from where he was kissing her neck, a question on his lips, but he sees the pain in her eyes. It's undisguised now – what's the point? – and she slides down the wall, Castle's hands on her sides lightly holding her, before he pulls her forward, off the wall, her face buried in his chest.
It smells familiar, safe, like home, but she still hurts.
"Castle", Kate whispers, the first word she's spoken to him. "Castle…" her voice trails as she fists her hands in the front of his shirt. She wants to explain, wants to apologize for using him, but she cannot.
The words come, soft, redemptive. "Shhh… I understand." He strokes her back lightly, his other arm pulling her a little closer.
"I love you, Kate. I'm here for it all."
The words do not make the pain dissipate – there's no magic cure for this type of sorrow – but it's just the slightest bit easier to breathe, each heart beat slightly less torturous. They stay, Castle wrapped around Kate, for another fifteen minutes, until the pain has settled into a dull throbbing in her stomach and heart. She won't be eating today, but she can work. Tugging Castle to his feet, the pair make their way to the front of the archives, holding hands until they have to let go to keep the secret.
Castle won't cure everything, but he'll make it a little easier to fight the war.
Kate won't be fixed, but he'll love her anyway.
Disclaimer: Not my universe and not my show, and thank the Lord. I don't think I'd want to see this on my TV. It would be too much.
Author's Note: I'm not sure how I feel about this story - I think it hits too close to home for me at the moment - but I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are always appreciated.