Title: Giving Up the Fight

Author: Mindy35

Rating: T, sexy stuff

Disclaimer: Characters are property of ABC, Andrew Marlowe et al. Lyrics are Sarah McLachlan and are used without permission. No infringement intended.

Spoilers: "Knockdown", "Knockout", "Rise".

Pairing: Castle/Beckett

Summary: It was not meant to happen. But it did.

A/N: WARNING! Before reading, please be advised that I have not posted the full story here. This site does not allow explicit adult content and I am a big Rules Girl so if you (are the appropriate age and) want to read the rest of this story you will need to find me at Livejournal as mindymakrutu. This site will not allow me to post a link either so if you have any troubles finding me, please PM me to let me know. Thanks for reading! M :)

-x-x-x-

So if I had the chance, love, you know I would not hesitate,

To tell you all the things I've never said before, don't tell me it's too late,

Cos I've relied on my illusions to keep me warm at night,

And I've denied my capacity to love, but I am willing to give up this fight.

-x-x-x-

This was not meant to happen. Not yet.

They both knew the score. They both knew he was in love with her. They both knew how much he was in love with her and how long he'd been in love with her. They both also knew that she couldn't return that love, not in the way she wanted to, not in the way his love deserved. Not until her ghosts were finally laid to rest. That's what she told him that day in the park, when they'd sat side-by-side on swings, speaking around and about the truth without ever naming it. She hadn't been talking about Josh and part of her had hoped even then that he'd known that too. It had always been him, never anyone else. Nobody else even came close. It was only ever Castle. A man she still couldn't bring herself to call by anything other than his last name, despite the fact that he was the only one who'd managed to breach the near insurmountable walls that surrounded her. And despite the fact that, as uncomfortable as it made her feel on a daily basis, in some secret corner of her well-concealed heart, Kate was glad he had.

But that didn't mean that this should happen.

It happened anyway though. During one of their most heated, hurtful arguments, when the chronically unexpressed love they shared became feral and started taking prisoners on both sides. They both said things they didn't mean; then quickly escalated to things they really did mean but never dared admit aloud. Usually, the only solution was for one of them to walk away. Usually, in such situations, her overly dogged personality got the better of her and she would not give an inch, leaving Castle to be the one with the clearer head. She relied on him to do that. She relied on him to take the hurt she dished out and hurt her back with perfectly chosen words, then – when some invisible limit had been reached – walk away. Leave her alone. Because alone and angry was where she was safe. Alone and angry felt strong to her, even as she knew how wrong that was, what a faithless coward she was being.

This time though, she watched his face as her verbal hits fell, exactly where she'd aimed them. But something else was going on, something she couldn't predict. Another limit had been reached. And no matter how hard she pushed, he wouldn't push back. He refused to match the force with which she was pushing him away so determinedly. No matter how easy she made it for him to turn and go, Castle wouldn't walk away. This time, he wasn't giving up. But then neither was she. She didn't know how. She tried to intimidate him physically, drawing closer, pinning his eyes. They both knew she could take him down bodily if she really wanted to, but even that underlying threat didn't cause him to falter. He stood toe to toe with her, his gaze not relinquishing hers for a second, making Kate feel trapped, disorientated, confused.

Because this was not the way this was supposed to go. She thought he knew the score. She thought they both knew the boundaries she had set and the many reasons they shouldn't cross them. Couldn't cross them. But he did. He crossed them when, instead of responding to her verbally, he just zoomed in, planting his mouth over hers in an unexpected kiss. And with that, everything crumbled. All they'd built, all his fabulous pretense, all her precious resistance. Gone, in a mind-blowing millisecond. He didn't grab her or hold her in place. His hands didn't even touch her. It was just his mouth on hers, quick and hard and hot and desperate. She could have pulled back, she could easily have broken it off after the first initial shock had passed. And when he retreated, she could have turned on her heel and walked implacably away. She should have. But she didn't. It might have been easy, smart even, to simply dismiss this new tactic of his. If it was one. She suspected the move was not a tactic at all. Castle was finally done playing, it seemed. He was serious. His kiss was honest, a pure response from a man whose responses generally were.

She'd robbed him of that over the years. Turned him into a liar, made him as scared of her as she was of him. Made him believe that this thing that pulsed between them could be stemmed, stopped, controlled, denied, when apparently, it couldn't be. Particularly not in that moment. In that moment when time seemed to stand still for a heartbeat or two, in that moment when they gaped at each other with wet, wanting mouths and wide, wondering eyes - despite every conceivable impediment they'd each placed in the way - they had become inevitable. There were no more games to play, no reason she could think of to play them. She was done thinking, done playing, done resisting. It was too exhausting, especially when the thing she kept on resisting was the one thing that gave her the strength, hope and energy to keep on living her lonely mess of a life.

Her body gave easily under his next advance. She met his kiss with one of her own, clinging to his body as she stumbled backwards and hit wall. She let out a little 'oomph' at the impact, followed by a moan, the sound muffled by his tongue. She couldn't help it - just as she couldn't help moaning when he'd kissed her in that car park, though she'd known in the back of her mind it was a ruse. Not entirely a ruse, she'd known that too – but partially. Of course, now, she was pretty damn sure that Castle was doing everything he could to make her moan. So she let out another, longer moan, yanking his shirt from his pants as his mouth broke from hers, breathlessly attacking her neck instead. There was little of it for him to get at though. Grunting impatiently, he tried to nose his way around the turtleneck she was wearing, tugging at the high collar with probing fingers. When he gave up and began to lift her top from the hem, she felt a moment of hesitation. Her hands stopped his, causing his eyes to lift to hers, searching, hesitant, hopeful.

Was she going to stop this? No. For all her strength, she wasn't strong enough for that. She just needed a moment before she revealed this to him, the place she'd been cracked open, her guts bared and her heart meddled with then restarted until precarious life took hold again. Castle waited, kissed her once, murmured her name, hands resting patiently on her waist, one finger from each hand grazing her flesh. Kate took a breath, lifted her sweater at the hem and pulled it up over her head, letting her hair settle back to her shoulders. The scar running across her ribcage was no longer as red or shocking as it was when she left the hospital. But it was there, a neat, raised line below her left breast. A lingering companion to the puckered hole where the sniper's bullet had entered her body and wreaked havoc on her innards. She rubbed a balm on both every night but – like her less visible scars – the twin wounds still haunted her.

She shivered as he ran one finger over the ugly gash splitting her side, her breath deepening and making her breasts fall heavily above his hand. Her eyes closed over briefly as his thumb passed over the smaller, round scar, the contact as soft as a whisper. She wished he would touch her anywhere but there. Trust Rick Castle to hone in on the sorest of her sore spots, get her right where she was the most vulnerable. It wasn't until his eyes met hers, welling with multiple emotions, that she realized that the scar shielding her heart was his sore spot too. The one in her side represented his most vulnerable point as well because it recalled the day he almost became as wounded as she. He'd almost had to survive what she had, over twelve years earlier. But he hadn't. And she was glad to have spared him the pain she lived with. In truth, she was grateful for these particular scars. Because as much as they were a constant reminder of her near death, they also served as a reminder of her life, her luck and the fact that she, Kate Beckett, had gotten a second chance at life.

Living it was really her only option.

(NOT actually the) END.