There was a time when Kate felt so alone she had to force herself out of bed in the morning. She didn't bother with a fake smile; it wasn't like she had anyone to notice the falsity. There were only other officers, drunken fathers, and memories of a mother gone.
Lungs burning with the effort it took to breathe in and out, she fought to find a reason to keep going. Sleep brought nightmares, and the waking hours brought an unending struggle to keep her head above the water.
She got looks of concern and detached wonder wherever she went. It took two confrontations nearly ending in fist fights to learn how to suppress the anger their pity ignited, until finally she could pass through the busy precinct hallways as if no one were there. It was the perfect practice for the way she began to approach the rest of her social activities.
When it became necessary to spend time with friends in order to appear as if she were improving, she laughed at the appropriate times and hid her frantic watch checks with skill. They stopped worrying so much, and she took small steps back so they wouldn't realize she was disappearing again.
People called her strong. Kate Beckett, not letting her mom's murder destroy her life. Kate Beckett, fighting to bring justice.
She just knew herself as Kate: the broken woman who could no longer tell left from right. All she had were her gun and badge. She lost herself in cases, learning day by day how to solve the one that sat heaviest on her chest.
As unbearable as her father's situation was, she couldn't completely blame him. His addiction was just as bad as hers; she'd just learned to hide it better. When he drank his way to the end of the bottle, only coming up for air when there was nothing left, she saw herself in his cloudy eyes.
It made her physically sick to see the resemblance, and as much as she wanted to help him, she knew it would mean helping herself too. Kate was confident she could find the energy to carry them both to shore, but she wasn't ready to be healthy again. The pain provided a level of comfort that it shouldn't. It dulled her senses, and truly improving would require facing the harsh light she was now safely hidden from.
She knew all of this. There was nothing she could hide from herself, not the reality that she was keeping herself down, not the hard truth that staying in mourning would never bring her mother back. It didn't matter how much she hurt; she was still alive, and her mom wasn't.
It crossed her mind many nights, how she could change that by taking herself out of the equation. Just a few more sleeping pills than usual, just a pull of the trigger. It almost hurt more to deny herself this than it did to relive their last moments together, but she wouldn't give her mom's murderer the satisfaction of taking two lives with one knife.
As the days passed, she found herself accepting the loner life she'd adopted. It wasn't a choice anymore. It was now hardwired into her brain that a book and a bubble bath was the best end to her day. She wasn't forcing people away, because turning down invitations came naturally. There was no force involved.
A unique kind of peace settled over her routine. Catch killers by day, stare at the now entirely memorized case file by night. It wasn't out of character for her to fall asleep with it resting in one hand over her stomach like a blanket.
When Esposito described her as a control-freak, he wasn't even a little off the mark. Any disruptions in her balance could send her spiraling. She despised being unsettled, and in turn she had no mercy for the disturbances.
Rick Castle came along as she was almost as close to healed as she could get. She'd been through therapy, cried a river and learned how to swim, and pulled her father out from the tunnel they'd both called home. Even with all of her progress, she hadn't figured out how to drop her tough outer shell and adapt to life the way it should be. She'd forgotten what it was like.
He yanked her out of a smooth transition, tossing her into a vibrant life that was too bright and exactly what she needed all at once.
God, she wanted to strangle him. She wanted to slap the cocky grin off his face whenever he showed up. He treated her life – the one she constructed around the rubble of what she used to be – as if it were a playground. It was an insult to everything she'd come from and everything she was working to achieve.
When Kate moved to strike, he greeted her with heart and a softness that took her breath away. She shoved against his intrusion, but every inch he gained on her was one inch she no longer had to protect. It was relief she couldn't help but accept, if not a little begrudgingly.
But there was always that one area that sent her spiraling back. Dredging it up brought back the hesitance, the lack of drive for anything but her search for the truth. He had a knack for hitting every sore spot in his journey to help her.
And then Captain Montgomery died only moments after she learned of his betrayal. She didn't even have time to process the information before she was carried away and crumbling between a car and the very man she'd only just tried to ban from her life.
Three days later, she was shot. She didn't have time to talk with Castle or admit that he was right to ask her to step away. Luckily they never had to revisit that fight, because there were no more leads. There were only dead ends, and she used that to her advantage and tried to heal herself once again.
But it was harder to heal when there were already scars, and a year later she got another opportunity to solve The Case. Abandoning her band-aids and rubbing alcohol, she sprinted into danger without caution.
Castle saw it coming. Not just her reckless abandon, but the fight he was about to walk into. He couldn't stop her, but he could damn well try. As a writer, he wasn't equipped to protect her from guns and knife fights; but as her friend and partner, he was the only one who could protect her from herself.
He saw her broken interior through the heavy layers she built between them. One look and he could tear away at every excuse she threw up at him. It left a trail of gore between their magnetized bodies.
She couldn't willingly share her dark thoughts or the plans she'd made to bring her mom's killer to justice. They were under lock and key, and the key was lost where even she couldn't find it.
When he slammed into the lock with a battering ram, she reacted the only way she knew how.
She fought. She yelled. She wounded him so his feeble strikes couldn't wound her. She stole the upper hand, turning it into a fist and beating him with it.
All of this because he was desperate to help, sticking his nose where it didn't belong in an effort to keep her safe.
"This is going to kill you," he told her, not for the first time. It immediately brought her back to the night of the Captain's murder, putting her on edge and supplying her with a willingness to jump.
Kate jerked around to face him, fury set deep into her bones.
Castle didn't look nervous, the way she'd expected; he looked calm. He was prepared to fight, and fight dirty if he had to. He wouldn't shy away from whatever she threw at him.
"It almost did last time, and I had to watch you struggle to live it for weeks."
She glared, the bullet hole in her chest suddenly burning for the first time in a year. "You think I don't remember that?"
He gave her an infuriating shrug. "I think you're too blind to remember what it was like for all of us. You have tunnel vision, Kate, and I just want you to see the big picture before you get yourself killed."
His voice was too detached. She couldn't read him like this, and it only fueled her building anger. "How could I forget?" She pulled away the collar of her shirt to reveal an angry, red spot over her heart. "I have to be reminded of it every day."
Castle knew she didn't just mean physically. Kate thought about the loss of her mom constantly. She worried about her dad and how he might tumble back down the rabbit hole ever since he was faced with the possibility of losing her. She needed to solve this case so the ground beneath her would finally stop shaking once and for all. There wasn't a damn thing in this world she could trust while there were still loose ends; not the system she worked for, not her dad, not the man currently leaving his safety zone to approach her.
He laid one palm right below her collarbone, the roughness of her scar resting in the middle. "You were lucky to escape without more of these," he whispered, staring at the skin surrounding his hand.
She didn't pull away, didn't even notice how close to her chest he was. "Not lucky."
They both gulped, she from regret and he from shock. With two words, she'd admitted a fantasy and nightmare combined: a blissful lack of existence. There was no taking it back, though, so she plowed forward.
"If I can't end this for good, then I've failed her. I've let a coldblooded murderer go free. I've let Montgomery die in vain. I can't have any of that on my conscious." Behind her closed eyelids, pain simmered and begged liquid release that she refused to grant.
Castle took a shaky breath and wrapped his free hand around her neck, pulling their foreheads together. "I'm not going to make it if I lose you, Kate," he admitted quietly, breathing harder when her eyes flickered open.
She hated the guilt trip almost as much as he hated putting her through it. "That's not fair," she mumbled. "You pushed your way in. I tried to keep you out." As if to physically prove her point, she put a hand against his chest and pushed him back an inch. Castle kept his forehead locked with hers and gained two more inches.
He chuckled sadly. "Don't make me regret it." The laughter died on his lips. "Please?"
"Would you?" She felt her knees go weak and her heart race, waiting on an answer that could potentially break her resolve.
His head moved from side to side against hers. "No," he sighed in defeat.
It tore at her. She never wanted to mean this much to him. She never wanted to put him – them – in this position. Kate was supposed to stay detached; to create a distance between them even his stubbornness wouldn't dare travel. In her failure to keep him away, she'd unknowingly dragged him into her darkness.
But this was too important to back down from, too important for her to give up now. Two could play the guilt trip game, and years of practice molded her into an expert at breaking even the strongest ties. "Don't make me choose, Rick, not if you really love me. I can't live like this anymore. I'll either catch him or I'll be done. This is where it's always been headed."
He broke contact with her completely, tears turning into a burning anger in his eyes. The shift was noticeable to them both, and a gasp escaped her parted lips. "That's it? You're willing to lose your life and burden the people who love you with the pain you're trying to escape. Could you really do that to us? To me?"
She wavered and wouldn't face him, her cold, abandoned skin a slap to the face. "I'm sorry." And while she meant it with her whole heart, she couldn't let the full extent of her emotions leak into the words. Glancing at him from underneath her eyelashes and a heavy layer of shame, she noted his shoulders sinking in misery he didn't want to accept.
It was goodbye. He could physically stop her and face her hatred as a consequence, or he could walk away.
Walking away was as impossible for him as it was for her, but he had a kid. Castle couldn't selfishly choose Kate over Alexis. He couldn't hold her hand while she ran full force toward her death.
It had to be goodbye. He had to leave and hope for the best for her. If she made it, if she came back alive, he couldn't be there. She was about to risk her life, and consequently his sanity. How could he look at her the same way after that? How could anything be the same?
"I tried," he said through restrained tears, needing her to believe it so he wouldn't feel responsible for whatever came next. They fell when hers did only a moment later.
"I know," she assured him, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his waist.
He closed his eyes and held her, memorizing the warmth of her body against his and the smell of her hair.
Before anything more could be said, before any promises could be made, Castle separated them in every sense of the word and walked toward the door. "Be safe," he said. They were the last words she'd ever hear leave his lips.
So, definitely not a cheery piece. I'm just glad to be writing again after taking a break. I'll have a new story up in the next couple of weeks, if all goes according to plan. It will have some happier moments in it. Let me know what you think?
Also, I completed the dare. You know who you are.