I don't wanna lose you now
I'm lookin' right at the other half of me
The vacancy that sat in my heart
Is a space that now you hold
Show me how to fight for now
And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy
Comin' back into you once I figured it out
You were right here all along
- Mirrors, Justin Timberlake
It's late. It's so so late and everything hurts and she thinks she's never been this exhausted, this disoriented in her entire life.
Dramatic, Kate. You're being dramatic.
She sighs, runs a hand through her hair.
And then her hair gets stuck and she's pulling it, her tired brain not getting the stop pulling, it's stuck, moron message to her arm fast enough.
She takes a deep breath and tries again.
Oh.
It's the – uh – it's
the ring. It's the ring.
Duh, Kate.
She reaches up with her right hand and untangles the hair from around the center diamond, automatically brings it in front of her face to inspect it for damage.
Well, of course there's no damage. It's a diamond ring, not a piece of paper.
And then her mind catches up to her again and she finds herself smiling, her face practically split in half from the force of it.
Oh. The Ring.
Geez. Now she's all the way on the other side, filled with the indescribable giddy type of happiness that she never thought she'd really have. That she, quite honestly, thought she was above. It's all clumsy and teenager-esque and it just fills her up.
Fills all her empty spaces with this incredible lightness, somehow simultaneously calm and loud, soft and bright.
But then she falters, the light rushing out as the memories rush in, how she must have destroyed them, torn them apart, and how could she ever, ever think that she would want to do this without him, and how could he even stand to look at her when she was just so awful and she didn't even say anything, just gaped at him like some brain dead moron as he knelt in front of her, his heart in his eyes –
"Kate?"
She looks up immediately at the sound of his voice. She realizes she's in his living room, has stopped just in the middle, and must have spaced out.
He looks worried. Scared.
"Kate, what's going on?"
She gives herself a minute to take stock of the situation. What is going on?
And then she fully comes back to herself and realizes that she is not only standing in the middle of a room for no apparent reason, but that she's been staring at the ring. With god only knows what kind of expression on her face.
Based on the one on his, it probably doesn't look promising.
And at that moment, she has the strangest thought: it's like looking in a mirror.
Everything – all she wants, all she needs, all the things that scare her the most, all the things she has ever wanted – reflected back at her.
"Castle." It's more of a sigh than a word, but it must be what he's looking for, or at the least the permission he was seeking to come towards her, because in the next moment he's gathering her in his arms, holding her tight against him.
He's running his hand through her hair over and over, the other wrapped firmly against her waist.
The action reminds her of why she had stopped in the middle of the room. Why she had come to the loft in the first place.
She pulls back and he lets go immediately.
And that hurts, a sharp stab into her heart, the way he lets her lead, the way he won't ever take anything from her that she doesn't willingly hand over.
So she goes back in, wraps herself around him.
"I love you, Rick," she whispers against his neck, paints the words into his skin with the soft press of her lips.
She feels him breathe against her, his voice strained. "I know, Kate. I know."
Does he?
She pulls back again, feeling strange relief when he doesn't relinquish his hold right away.
When he looks back at her, she smiles at him, tries to convey it all to him with the twist of her lips, the openness of her eyes.
He smiles back, the curve of his lips soft, but the effect not quite reaching his eyes.
"Rough day?" he asks, finally breaking the silence that's settled around them.
Avoiding it all. Giving her an out.
It's awkward and clumsy, the way he's trying to work around it. How he must just be waiting for her to reject him.
In fact, he probably thinks that's why she's here, late on a Tuesday night, days later, standing in his loft, staring at The Ring.
And it all comes rushing back to her, what he did, what she did. What she didn't.
How he kneeled in front of her, watched her for what must have felt like an eternity, waiting on some kind of response.
How, after she gave him nothing, not even an acknowledgement, he silently slid the ring on to her finger, his hands shaking and sweaty.
How he didn't even look at her as he stood, dusted off his pants, wiped his palms on his shirt.
How he walked away, leaving her sitting stunned on that swing, completely speechless. Shocked. Frozen.
How that was three days ago, and how he has been met with radio silence until this very instant.
How, instead of yelling at her, shaking at her, anything really, he's trying to make conversation.
Prolonging what he must think is the last interaction he'll ever have with her.
He starts backing away, shaking his head.
His movement pulls her back to the present, but not in time to do anything about it.
"You can keep it." His voice is suddenly rough. Dark.
"Castle – "
"No. Don't say it." A pause. "I get it." Another. "But I can't take that back."
He's already backing out of the room, headed in the direction of his bedroom. Away from her.
"Rick." She forces it past her lips and practically trips over herself in her hurry to get to him, to get him to stop walking away from her.
That gets his attention. He stops, turns to face her.
She stops, too, unsure of what her next move should be.
"Please. Listen?" She hears the pleading in her voice but doesn't care. He deserves to hear it, deserves to know how much she feels, how deep this runs.
He sighs, nods at her to continue.
She hesitates, suddenly unable to find the words.
How can she possibly explain it to him? How she needs him to keep looking at her, keep seeing her. How seeing everything reflected back at her makes her better, stronger, happier. More whole than she's ever felt.
"Yes."
Wait. That's what she went with? Yes?
"What?"
Okay, seems the sentiment is mutual.
She takes a deep breath, focuses on him, on how he makes her feel.
And then she lets him see it all. Looks at him like he looks at her, like she is just everything, like she makes his world go round.
Tries to show him how she wants to give it all back to him and more, how it's like nothing she's ever felt before, this incredible, indescribable pull towards him, for him, with him.
She can tell the moment he sees it, watches it all play out on his face, the light breaking through all of that terrible weariness. Wariness.
"Yes," she repeats, her voice louder. Stronger. Sure.
It seems as though it's his turn to be frozen.
So she goes to him, walks right into him, pulls him against her, her arms banding around him, her mouth right at his ear.
"Yes, Castle. Yes."
It's like you're my mirror
My mirror staring back at me
I couldn't get any bigger
With anyone else beside of me
And now it's clear as this promise
That we're making
Two reflections into one
Cause it's like you're my mirror
My mirror staring back at me, staring back at me