13th. I've gotten more responses when I write more dramatic situations, so when this one came to me, I had to write it down. And it came out to the longest chapter I've ever written! I think I'm getting the hang of this writing deal.

This one can definitely be labeled as AU. I am abolutely positive that Jim Beckett would never do this, but lets just blame it on the fact that we were talking about alcoholism in my Welness class. I'm putting Rick at about 23 and Kate can be 19, 20 maybe? You can choose, somewhere around there though.

Disclaimer: It's true, I don't own Castle.

All mistakes are mine.

I say T, because it is a smidge dark. Not too much but, there is mentions. And one word, just one.


"It's two o'clock in the morning!" He whispered violently once he had freed his bedroom window from its hinges, but stopped short once he recognized the tear stained face that had been the source of his sleep interruption.

Sighing deeply he opened the window the rest of the way and motioned for her to come in. He was way past worried, he was flat out terrified. This had begun to be a regular occurrence, though it was never on a set schedule or certain day. These outbursts being as unpredictable as they were; is what added even more to his apprehension, the fact that he never knew whether or not she would be safe, not knowing when he was needed to step in and save her.

"Go ahead and get comfortable, I'll get your pajamas." He assured gently, careful not to reach for her, as to not unnerve her even more.

Nodding, Kate walked over and sat precariously in the middle of the bed as if contemplating what to do next, before leaning back and hiding her face in the pillows.

Rick crept over and opened his top drawer, which with this happening more often than not lately, had coincidentally became her drawer; and pulled out some clothes for her to change into, along with Monkey. Monkey was a stuffed animal dog that had belonged to her grandmother at one point, but eventually was passed along to her. It somehow seemed to ease the pain for her, even if by the smallest amount. The rest of the mending was up to him.

Turning around, he headed back towards the bed cautiously. With practice, this crossing of the room had become easier, almost routine. He knew to say her name or speak to her a couple of times as to alert her of his location. It was best this way, he had learned quickly from the first time he had snuck up on her. He had laid a hand on her ankle while setting the clothes down on the end of the bed, and she had jumped back instantaneously, eyes wide with a look that had almost broken his heart until he realized that it wasn't him she was scared of.

"Kate, I have your clothes and Monkey, I'm just going to put them on the edge of the bed okay?"

Seeing the small affirmative nod of her head against the pillow he continued, "Do you need help changing this time?"

"No," she whispered so quietly that he almost hadn't heard it.

"Alright, milk or tea tonight?"

"Tea, please."

"I'll be right back." He promised.

Once he returned, voicing his entrance; he found her leaning against the headboard petting Monkey and mindlessly flipping through TV channels. The TV was shut off instantly though, once she caught sight of him. She shifted over slightly then, which he took as his cue to sit next to her on the bed. This was when the waiting kicked in. He waited until she made the first move, as long as it took for her to be content with being comforted, it was up to her to give him the okay.

The waiting was also what clued him in to how bad the ordeal had been. The longer she waited, the worse it had been. So once she finally leaned over and curled into his side, allowing him to engulf her in his arms; he knew it had been worse than normal.

"Nine?" He guessed tentatively, pulling her even closer.

"Spot on," she nodded in agreement. "If not nine and a half."

"I'm sorry KB."

"You couldn't have known."

"Yeah, but I should have come over to make sure. Once again, I was only thinking of my…"

"Red," she cut him off sternly. "It's not your fault; you're doing everything you can just by being here."

"I wish I could do more."

Getting no response he continued, "I wish you would drop that nickname, it makes me sound old." She smiled slightly in response, for which he was grateful.

"Thank you Rick."

"Always."

That sat in silence for a while, complacent by just being with each other, before he spoke again.

"I'm right here, whenever you want to start."

"I didn't even think he was home," she admitted quietly.


It was almost one o'clock by the time she managed to sneak back into the house after a long impromptu study session at the library, one of the few places she could go to escape.

Managing to close and lock the door without a sound she noted that there were no immediate sounds coming from the house. She knew she should feel a sense of worry, not knowing exactly where he was this late at night, or early depending on how you looked at it. Possibilities of dangerous situations that he could find himself in should have filled her mind but instead, she just silently thanked whoever was listening for the good fortunate, that her dad most likely was not home. Flipping on the kitchen light she examined and took stock of the room. The first thing she noticed were the beer bottles that littered the counter and that some of the living room furniture that had been tipped over.

Setting her backpack down and slipping off her shoes she set to work throwing away the bottles first. Just as she was about to pick up a broken flower vase, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming from upstairs.

'Shit, he must have been passed out.' She thought. Hearing the certain stair in the middle of the flight that creaked, a dead give away to anyone trying to sneak in or out, she took it as her signal and bolted for the door.

Just as she reached the doorknob, a familiar but all too wrong hand took hold her wrist and spun her around.

"Katie, you're home!" He cheered, once she came face to face with him. Swaying slightly, he gripped her wrist tighter trying to steady himself.

She winced but didn't acknowledge him, already trying to formulate her escape plan. Upon seeing how drunk he was, she knew from here that things would only get worse. Feeling the weight of her phone in her pocket, she contemplated sending Rick a quick text, but that thought quickly diminished when he grabbed her chin with his other hand; forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You look tired." He stated simply, fingers digging into her cheek.

"And you look drunk," she spat.

"I am not drunk!" He argued, gripping her face even tighter still.

"You need to stop drinking."

Her elbow and hip hit the ground first from the angle at which he had thrown her down. She scrambled as well as she could back to her feet, not wanting to have the lower ground, and put some distance between them.

"Don't tell me what to do, I am the parent here!"

"Then why don't you start acting like it."

She didn't realize that she had been hit until her head recoiled from the impact, and the resounding sting followed directly after. She stared back at him in shock and disbelief. This wasn't the first time that these outbursts had come to this level of violence, but seeing no emotion on his face, like he didn't even seem to register what he did; seemed to make it hurt that much more.

Taking a hold of her face again, this time in almost a death grip he mumbled, "You look just like her."

She pushed him away as the tears threatened to spill over. In turn, he locked his hands around her upper arms. She could swear she already felt the bruises forming. Closing her eyes, she did the only thing that she had ever found effective and let her legs give out from under her. He couldn't support her weight when he was this intoxicated, and she used that fact to her advantage.

She fell to the floor and pushed herself to sit huddled up against the door, wrapping her arms around her knees and turning her head away, she braced herself for any further attacks; verbal or physical. When none came, she looked up to find him gone and took it as her opportunity to leave.

Forgetting her shoes, she threw the door open and took off at a full blind sprint, thanks to the tears that were blocking her vision. She ran to the one place she could truly call home anymore, where her best friend was always waiting.


Sobbing as she finished, she reached down and pulled out her mother's ring, gripping it for the extra support. That and the feeling of his arms wrapping tighter around her made her feel completely and utterly safe.

"My offer still stands, always has always will."

"I can't Red."

"You can't stay there Kate, it's not safe, what happens if it gets worse?" He argued without raising his voice.

"Someone was to be there to watch and clean up after him. He can't take care of himself. If I'm not there, he could end up seriously hurting or even possibly killing himself."

"But he's already hurt you."

"I can deal. I can fix him, I just, I just need," she couldn't finish the sentence as sobs overtook her body once more. "I just wish she was still here."

"Shh," he comforted her and waited until the shaking slowed enough until he continued, "You'll be out of harm's way here and still close enough to help him."

Cutting her off before she could argue he continued, "I know your independence is important to you, and I would never think of taking that away, just promise me you'll think about it."

"Okay."

"Okay, you'll think about it or okay, you'll move in?"

"The second one," she agreed, eyelids drooping sleepily. He scooted them farther down the bed and pulled the blankets over them. Flipping off the light he placed a quick kiss on her temple, "Thank you Kate, it means a lot to me."

"Back at you," she mumbled as she scooted even closer to him, resting her head on his chest.

He had vowed since the very first time this had occurred, the night after her mother's murder that he would do anything he could to help her and keep her safe. Now watching her sleeping in his arms, he was grateful for her trusting him with this aspect of her life. Letting the peacefulness that settled in him, now that she had agreed to move in, wash over him, he closed his eyes praying that from here on out things would get better.


So, that wasn't to bad was it? Let me know.

Another thing, with the nickname I sorta combined Rick and Edgar, hence... Red? I know his real middle name is Alexander, but it was mentioned that his first best seller was in college, so by then I'm guessing he had already changed it. It's not as clever when I actually explain it.

I also don't know if I'm going to stop here, or if I should continue with this. If I did I wouldn't be quite sure of which direction to take it, so you should be the judge of that.

Thanks for reading loves.

-Anna Lee