Title: Castle's Always

Disclaimer: Characters, plot and dialogue ain't mine but all of the pretty words that make them fun to read are :D

Her name flashes on my phone's screen, something it has done thousands of times before, something I thought it would do a thousand times more.

But today is different. The beautiful picture I took of her many months ago when she was smiling and didn't think I had a camera out used to make my stomach flip, and I guess it still does, just in a completely different way.

Her call used to be a beacon, before I even answered and heard her singsong "Hey Castle", the flash of "Kate Beckett" on my home screen used to hold the promise of another day I'd get to sit next to her, listen to her, talk to her, make her laugh, sometimes if I was lucky she'd listen back.

The realization that that chapter of my life is closing hits like someone closed a book on me, my heart inside screaming through the slowly closing pages. Fitting I'd use that simile.

No, this call is different. The wave of emotion crushes harder than it should, I should be able to walk away, I guess I'm just in too deep.

I should know by now that I'll never be able to fully vanquish this woman from my heart. Maybe with time, I don't know, I don't really want to look that far into the unknown just yet. Not while just seeing her face on my phone sends waves of pain through my veins like hundreds of arrows, straight from my heart to every end of my being.

I wish answering the phone would resolve this feeling, but she made her choice. Whatever she has to say, excuse she'll make, code she'll speak in will not replace the fact that she doesn't want me. Doesn't realize what life she could have.

So I hit ignore.

Damn it hurts.

Hurts more than the initial shock of seeing her call.

For a split second I am filled with dread that she could be calling needing me, in some kind of danger that I can swoop in like the white knights I write about and save her – from an assassin or worse, herself – but that idea is forced out by the anger I still feel at the facts that she is just too stubborn to see.

I drop the phone but the pain doesn't recede like it should. The ache in my chest throbs with every beat of my swollen heart. I guess this is a feeling I will have to get used to.

A quick knock at the door startles me from my spiral of self-pity.

I pretend, for whose benefit I don't know, not to hope that somehow she has come to her senses, but I don't even fool myself. I know that I should be angry and not want her to come back – hah back, back to what? But unfortunately I love this frustrating woman, and that means no matter how much pain I'm in I will always hope to see her smiling on the other side of the door.

I'm on auto-pilot by the time I get to the door, trying to look less melancholy than I feel, and I open the door with the beginnings of a smile that I don't feel forming on my face when I see her.

Breathless.

Even in my cloud of heartbreak, the sight of her still knocks the wind from my chest.

Composure is what I need. She can't win, not like there'd ever be any kind of competition, but if I have any chance of surviving after she leaves I cannot crawl back every time she needs me to.

Composure quickly fades to anger. I don't want to be angry with her. I want to be in love with her.

But I can't deal with the hurt she causes so I can't even begin to attempt to stop the words as they roll off my tongue, so much colder than I ever wanted to speak to her,

"Beckett, what do you want?"

I barely recognize myself but dammit this is her fault.

I need to keep this anger, let it anchor me so that I don't get caught up in the vulnerability she wears, a color I never imagined she'd knowingly let me see. I can't look into her eyes and see the sorrow that she is sending in waves.

I must be resolute.

I have to -

"You."

Not even a little what I was expecting.

I don't have time to fully process the extent of what she's just said, the answer to the question that I had been slowly, secretly asking for years, before she pushes into the apartment.

I move back, out of reflex I guess, but I don't get far because her arms are reaching out – for what?

Me?

Apparently, because she grabs on with all of her strength and pulls me into her. Something I have literally dreamed about for years, but I can't enjoy it like I want to because my head is spinning so fast that I actually feel like I might fall.

She kisses me.

Oh Lord.

I've spent the past year, longer if I'm being honest with myself, playing out how this would feel, the first time she kissed me, and never once was my mind clouded by the hurt I still feel.

I wish her touch could eliminate this feeling. Wish the feeling of having her press her body into mine as she captures my lips could undo the anger that has only been subdued, but it doesn't.

It comes pretty god dammed close though.

Her lips on mine ignite a fire that almost burns through the arrows of pain in my blood that still linger.

She pulls back, just a fraction, but far enough that my brain is able to work. Her hands on my face, forehead flat against mine, mouth so close that I can feel her shaky breath mix with mine. I didn't think it was possible to be so close but feel so far. My heart screams and I come back but I am still angry. Not very much, but I have to use the anger to fuel myself into thinking this through instead of just pulling her closer like I know that I want inside.

She starts apologizing – her voice catches. Beckett is a strong, composed woman. She doesn't let her voice hitch.

I feel the tears on her face before I see them and know that something must be wrong.

This isn't Beckett.

She doesn't show up at my house looking like she swam an ocean to get here, tell me she wants me, and apologize.

Something happened.

I need to see her eyes. She needs to see mine. See the anger and utter heartbreak I've felt over her.

She tries to kiss me again but I've made up my mind and need to know so I push her back, a little more forcefully than I probably should have, but she goes willingly.

She is now far enough away that I can fully take her in, really for the first time tonight, and to say I'm surprised would be an understatement.

She looks like all that is keeping her upright is my tight hold of her wrists. I don't think I've ever seen her so fragile.

She looks at me with a tear stained face and it's all I can do not to pull her back to me, but I need to know.

I ask what happened, afraid of whatever answer the question will bring.

For someone who spends their life with words, I have absolutely zero to describe the look that settles itself on her face.

I would almost call it a smile if I didn't know her as well as I do. Years of studying this woman have taught me to know when she is truly happy, something I have only seen a handful of times. No this is a sad smile.

"He got away-"

Oh, is that what this is? I refuse to be some consolation device, won't allow myself to be used to heal her hurt-

"and I didn't care."

Oh.

"I almost died, and all I could think about with you."

I can't allow myself to think about how she almost died. Just hearing the words makes my stomach plunge toward my feet. Who was I kidding, like I could ever be done with her. Like I ever stood a chance in distancing myself from her.

This is all so new.

Kate Beckett was just completely open about her feelings. To me, of me, about me, I don't know what to do.

All she could think about was me.

What does this mean?

"I just want you"

My mind whirls a thousand miles an hour but my face must look absolutely stoic.

She wants me?

I want to jump and scream and cry tears of happiness but as fast as my mind is moving at this part, my heart is afraid to believe it.

What if she is wrong? What if she does care? What if she only wants me now?

I honestly don't think I could survive being without her once I actually had been.

Today was already one of my worst and that was just with walking away before I'd held her.

But I guess I have already gone too far haven't I?

I've got her in my arms now, pouring her heart out to me like I've always dreamt I would. I made it through the walls she had protected her heart behind.

If I leave now, it would crush us both.

She sways forward, open mouth brushing mine in the single-handed most heart-breakingly beautiful plea I could ever hope to experience- or write about- but the single drop of anger and disbelief that still courses through my veins prohibits me from taking her the way I know we both want.

She leans back just a few inches, not in retreat but in silent apology and with a stark and sudden awareness I realize my error in holding onto the hurt.

This is ridiculous.

I am ridiculous.

Here I have the woman I've loved with a strength I'd only ever written about, in my arms begging to be loved, the way she always has been but never been able to see, and I am keeping her away?

I have a millisecond flashback to the day prior when I confessed my love, to her conscious body, and she turned me away. But I had it wrong. She wasn't denying her love for me, just too clouded by anger to see.

Here she is, the woman I love, finally freed from her demons, asking for forgiveness.

How could I even pretend to have to think about it.

When I see the clear truth in her eyes, I know that she wants this forever as much as I do.

She touches my lips with her impossibly gentle fingers and the spell is broken.

This is real, and this is love, and I have not a single doubt in my mind that this is exactly what we both want, no - need.

Years of desperate yearning have all been building to this moment and I know it won't disappoint.

I am done living without this.

Done being without her.

I wanted resolute, well I've sure as hell got it now.

Lightning cracks through the window and pulls me from my daze and makes me wonder why I'm not kissing her, showing her how much I love and forgive her.

As I can't come up with an excuse, I lunge for her and see the pure relief flash across her face as we connect.

The electricity of her touch, the feeling of her mouth on mine creates a hunger deep within me, with a strength I never knew possible and unconsciously I force her back into the door, which in turn closes it. This ends up being a very, very good thing.

I get impossibly close and she welcomes me, clinging with the force of desperation.

All I can think is Kate.

The feel of her.

The sight of her.

The taste of her.

The clichés wiz through my mind as I try to come up with the perfect way to describe how absolutely perfect everything about this is.

Soon her mouth isn't enough and I leave it to explore. My lips burn with every touch of every inch of skin I can find. Every tantalizing spot that I'd fantasized about claiming is finally mine.

I make my way lower, at first without any conscious thought, but as I realize where I am headed I need to take pause.

I kiss the area right about where I know the scar is.

In that moment everything slows down.

The hunger abates, the lust fizzles and I'm left with a steady stream of love. I slowly unbutton the top of her shirt and it's funny how it isn't passion driving me to take off her shirt. Obviously I want too, but that's not why I'm doing this.

As I stare into the small circle I am almost overcome; too many emotions to even describe.

This little the mark is the reason she almost died, and at the same time, this little mark means that she is alive. It is my proof that she is alive.

She must be on the same page because she grabs my hand and for a fraction of a second I wonder if she might try to take my attention away from the mark, but she doesn't.

She knows exactly how important this little pucker of skin is, to me, to her, to us.

She takes my hand in hers and presses them into the scar.

More is said in that action than in any book I could write.

Together we hold on. To the scar that almost took her away from me, but more importantly, to the heart that lies beneath it; the heart that beats strong and brave for me.

I am overcome by the need to kiss her again, but this feeling isn't the same as it was before. It is no longer a race, we aren't fighting through lust for each other.

No this time the seriousness of the situation settles and I can actually feel the shift to love.

We still cling to each other, but the reality of everything in front of us - everything we have left behind- is evident and I realize that I don't have to rush. I don't even want to try.

I want to live in this moment for as long as I can.

I don't know where we'll be tomorrow or the day after, but as I gently kiss her top lip I feel the beginnings of a smile on her face. I move my head back slowly, only an inch, but it's all I need. I open my eyes and am looking right into hers, already open and filled with everything I know we can be.

I know this woman inside and out, I know when her smiles are real and when she wants you to think they are.

This glow that emanates from her tonight may be the most beautiful, most real smile I have ever seen on her face.

The look of pure happiness on her faces reaffirms what I knew all along, but had just been hiding from; there is absolutely no other person in the world that I want.

No other person who could ever make me even slightly as happy as she does.

And I know, for the first time, that she feels the same way.

.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.

A/N: This wasn't supposed to be nearly this long :P But once you get going…

I was only going to make this a one-shot but I have some ideas about how this could continue (possibly the same scene from Kate's POV or a joint continuation).

Whaddaya think?