This was originally entitled Scars and Souvenirs, but I felt that the title would better encompass a different oneshot that I've been working on, and so this story is now entitled Decisions Made for Love, which actually fits this story better anyway. Hope you enjoy. :)

Spoilers: For the 4th Season aired through 4x08.

Disclaimer: It is with a heavy heart that I admit to not owning Castle. *sighs*

Decisions Made for Love

Deep down she had always wanted him to say it – to finally voice the phrase consisting of three little words that were innocent alone, yet so powerful together.

I love you.

Now that he had, she honestly wasn't sure how she felt about it. She didn't know how to deal with what their relationship would become if she didn't also return the phrase back to him. Perhaps she could in the future, but at this very moment, she knew she wouldn't be able to tell him what he wanted to hear.

She just wasn't ready.

So she lied. She told him that she didn't remember. Didn't remember him trying to take the bullet for her, or at least trying to get her out of the way. Didn't remember his warm body over hers, pleading for her to stay with him. Didn't remember the worry, heartache, sorrow, and most of all love that poured from his eyes and threatened to drench her in their emotions. How they held her own eyes captive until she could no longer keep them open, finally succumbing to a darkness that clenched her heart in a vise-like grip similar to the way his three words had – as though securing her heart to him, making it belong to him. And it did, she decided.

Yet she was still unwilling to let him know how much influence he had over her. She couldn't bring herself to admit that his presence in her life meant too much for her to screw it all up. Because that's what would happen. She wasn't ready to begin a serious relationship with him, knowing that she wouldn't be able to give herself over to him fully and completely as he deserved. The conspiracy surrounding her mother's murder took precedence over her mind, body and soul. She needed closure on one obsession before she could begin another. After all, isn't that what love was? A different form of obsession – just not quite as consuming?

She couldn't forget the way he nervously walked in through the door of her hospital room after she was shot, seeming hesitant and unsure. Her pulse quickened, making her chest twinge, and she was glad that she was no longer hooked up to a heart monitor. She couldn't help but smile for him, putting on a brave face even through the conflicting feelings of happiness and pain caused by just the sight of him. The knowledge she now held was too much for her to deal with at the moment, and she just couldn't handle the way his eyes swept over her in a loving caress, relieved to see that she was in fact all right. Instead, she focused on keeping their conversation simple. And then she sent him away.

When his absence those three months was her choice, it was bearable. She could have picked up the phone at any moment to call him, and she somehow knew he would answer, no matter when it was. Because he loved her, and he was always there. But she wouldn't call him. Couldn't call him. She was hiding. From him, from his love. She honestly didn't mean to keep him waiting for so long, but it was just easier to avoid the issue rather than try to assess her feelings. She still didn't really know where she stood.

She couldn't forget the anger and hurt in his eyes when she finally went to see him at his book signing where he seemed so lost and not at all his usual charming self. She doubted any of his fans noticed his reserved demeanor, but she had. And she knew the reason for it, too. She felt guilty for hiding from him for as long as she had without any form of contact, text or otherwise, and knew that the only reason she wasn't still hiding was because she wanted to know how his investigation into her case was progressing. Damn Ryan and Esposito for making her face him. His gaze bore into her heart, searing off a piece of it and making her breath catch. He had every right to be angry, she reasoned, but it still hurt worse than she expected.

She tried to apologize in her own way, letting him know that once her mother's case was finally put to rest, she would be more open to begin something with him. Just not right now. Right now she needed her partner and their sometimes awkward relationship of pretending they didn't care more for each other than they let on – especially in her case.

So they continued under their careful pretense; although, she had to admit that she revealed a bit too much of her emotions concerning him when a certain insurance consultant barged her way into their case at the museum.

She wasn't jealous – she was self-protective. If he loved her as he'd said, why was he so smitten with that long-legged, arrogant blonde? Was he really in love with her, or was it the moment of the situation that brought out the words he didn't actually mean to say? She couldn't decide which one she preferred. The latter scenario was easier to manage. They could both forget it happened (which she was already trying to do) and continue on with their partnership as it was before. However, if his love was true, should he be looking at other women? Not to mention kissing other women?

Okay, so she probably had overreacted a little when she found them lip-locked. But, really, he could have thought of a different way to distract her from the two detectives leaving her hotel room, couldn't he? Or was kissing the only form of diversion his playboy mind was capable of processing?

She thought back to that impromptu kiss they shared last year and her heart spiked erratically, making her body temperature rise as the blood pulsed through her faster. She was surprised at his contact at first, and then realizing the advantage it created, she immediately threw herself into the kiss. What she didn't expect was to enjoy it as much as she had and was pretty sure she heard herself moan into his warm, eager mouth. She really had to try and rein in her emotions after that; after all, she was with someone else at the time.

Which brings her back to the blonde. If he was really in love with her, she would assume that he wouldn't even think about another woman, let alone kiss one. Did he actually enjoy kissing that over-egotistical woman? Or was it really just a ploy like he tried to explain? She had told him once before that she was a 'one and done' kind of girl; if she chose him, would he set aside his old ways and finally settle down with one person? Or would his playboy persona always be a part of him?

When he didn't go out with the woman, letting her walk away without the slightest care, she noticed just how much his actions influenced her feelings. She breathed easier knowing that the blonde was no longer in the picture and even let an easy smile grace her lips as she offered to buy him a burger. Perhaps she was in deeper than she cared to realize.

And she was perfectly fine living in that blissful ignorance . . . for at least a few more cases, anyway.

… … … … …

Then there was the situation at the bank.

She had no training whatsoever in hostage negotiations, and now she was literally forced to reason with the fictitious doctor, since he refused to speak with anyone but her. She supposed he figured that he had more leverage over her, since she seemed to be more invested in the well-being of at least one of his hostages than the actual negotiator would be. Which was obviously true, but he seemed to think he always had the upper-hand and took that misconstrued comprehension as an opportunity to threaten her partner in order to get what he wanted, especially when the bus wasn't going to arrive in the allotted time he'd given.

The sound of that gunshot stopped her heart. She anxiously awaited the answer to her question and was relieved to hear that it was only a warning shot. He was still okay. But only for a moment longer, unless she could convince the bastard into giving her twenty more minutes. To hell with protocol. This guy had no idea who he was dealing with. So she told him exactly what would happen if he made his threat into reality. Lucky for him he had the good sense to listen.

Her partner was safe once again.

Then the sound of an explosion and the force of the blast rocked the vehicle, making her cut out mid-sentence in her conversation to Esposito as her entire body seized up. As if in a dream, she stepped out of the vehicle and turned toward the billowing dust cloud that was once the bank. The bank he was still inside.

She fell into a state of shock. She couldn't take her eyes off of the desecrated building. Every beat of her heart was slow and deliberate, like the steady beating of a drum, thundering through her and filling her ears. Her police vest was on before her mind could register what she was doing and then she was suddenly at the forefront of the recovery squad, flashlight and gun in hand, searching everywhere through the debris. She was vaguely aware of her calling out his name. The desperate, guttural voice that escaped from her mouth didn't sound like her at all. It was filled with too much emotion and anxiety and need.

Then she heard his unmistakable voice say her name and her heart gave a tiny leap. But she needed to see him. Her ears could only be playing tricks on her.

When he finally came into view, she could breathe easier – almost having to gulp down the air into her deprived lungs. She rushed into the vault, only barely noticing the rest of the hostages, and kneeled in front of him.

She wanted to throw herself into his arms while her hands roamed every inch of him, making sure he was really all right. But of course, she could not do any such thing. That would take their relationship in an entirely new (and scary) direction that she still wasn't sure she could handle yet. Just seeing him alive was going to have to be enough. For now.

So she cut the ties that bound him and was content with letting the world fall away as she stared into his relieved eyes, only vaguely aware of her hand reaching out to touch his lapel for confirmation that he was actually there, alive, and in front of her.

Then all too soon their moment was broken. Or perhaps it was broken at the right time, because she was beginning to feel her hold on his lapel tighten to close the distance between them. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks, ducking her head slightly in embarrassment, and reprimanded herself for losing control over her façade for even a brief moment.

… … … … …

The day at the bank soon fell under the rapidly growing category of things that they didn't talk about, and soon enough, she was facing an empty chair just like two years ago when he had left for the Hamptons that summer. Except this time she wasn't sure if he was ever coming back.

She tried to tell herself that it was better this way. He could now forget about her and move on with his life, finding someone who actually deserved his love, instead of wasting it on someone who was so emotionally constipated that she could barely even shed a single tear when he had finally said that he couldn't do it anymore. She felt as though she always expected him to leave, to rise from his chair and never return. And she felt that she could finally go on living the life she had been before he came barreling in, demolishing walls and spreading chaos into her organized ways. Of course it hurt at first, but she had dealt with his absence before.

Yet if she was truly honest with herself, she would admit that her dear old Captain was right. He was good for her. She felt more carefree when he was around, able to sit back and enjoy the little things in life, rather than keeping her emotions all bottled up in a place deep within. He brought laughter and fun into her somewhat dismal job where even though each case had closure, it always began with an end.

What was that saying, anyway? If you love someone, let him go and see if he will return? She imagined that she had probably exhausted the saying, though. How many times must he come back after her letting him go before she realized that she needed him far more than she ever let on? When was she finally going to listen to the part of her that yearned for him in a way that simple smiles and brief touches couldn't sate?

She had made the excuse before that she couldn't have the kind of relationship she wanted until her mother's case was solved, but wasn't that really just a crutch? An excuse to not let anyone close to her so if she ever did lose him absolutely, she wouldn't ever feel the kind of devastation she fell into after her mother died? Yet wasn't he already so close to her heart that the loss of his presence had that same effect anyway? Didn't her world shatter briefly when that bank exploded? How could she live out her life if she really lost him? Her mother's case was going nowhere. They've had no new leads, no new evidence, not even a sliver of new information. How long did she really expect him to wait?

And then the words of her therapist whispered over her subconscious mind, begging for an answer and yet knowing it was futile.

"What are you really scared of? That he won't wait for you? Or that he will?"

She mulled the questions over and had finally decided that she was equally afraid of both. She never wanted him to leave – the thought of him not being in her life anymore always brought a new sharp pain in her once guarded heart. And yet, the knowledge of him loving her deeply enough to wait for her made her begin to slightly hyperventilate. She hadn't ever known love like the kind he showed her every day with just one look. And to think that he could demonstrate just how much more he could love her with just one word of consent from her lips damn near scared the hell out of her.

What was she to do?

So she did nothing.

And he had finally had enough.

The question now was: Could she let go of her stubborn nature and go after him? Or was she forever resolute to live out her life in discontent?

The decision solely rested with her.

I hope you enjoyed reading my account into the mind of the fabulous Kate Beckett. :)