Thanks to the amazing response I received on 'Behind Green Eyes' - again, a huge thank you to everyone who added it to their alerts and took the time to review! - I now bring you 'Behind Blue Eyes' This is what I imagine was running through Richard Castle's head in that final scene of 'Always', from the time the door opens to the time it closes, and beyond. Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoy it!


He swung the door open, and found himself back on the edge. The sheer, heart-stopping edge.

Kate…

He'd lived the past four years of his life here, balanced on this edge, this cliff, this infinite, incomprehensible unknown. It wasn't even his, this void. It was hers. But she was his. His muse. His friend. His partner. His…everything. And so he'd stepped willingly to the brink, risked the chasm, dared the precipice. For her.

He'd stood with her here, side by side, through every obstacle, every battle, every pounding of the elements which assaulted them because he couldn't not, couldn't fathom the idea of stepping back, of stepping away, of leaving her to face it alone.

But now, here wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough, because it was no longer a stand – it was a crusade. A mindless, devastating crusade which wouldn't stop until it saw everything destroyed, until it saw her, bloodied, broken, consumed, falling into the bottomless darkness beneath.

And in the last seventy-two hours – seventy-two terrifying hours – he'd come to realize that it didn't matter how much he wanted to protect her, or how frantically he scrambled for purchase, or how tightly he gripped, solid ground in one hand, her in the other, desperately hanging on for them both.

It didn't matter because she didn't want to be saved. Clinging to the edge was all she knew. All she desired. All she chose.

And it was going to kill her.
And she was going to let it.

And no matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he yearned to stay, he could not watch that, could not watch her lose her grasp, could not watch her fall. Because in falling, she'd fell him as well.

And now here he was, standing at his own door and feeling the pull of her yet again, looking out into the total nothingness below, listening to the violent sounds of wind and rain, whipping and wailing against that God-damned, life-devouring, ever-present abyss.

She was right here in front of him, unreachable. Dripping wet, hair plastered to her face, skin soaked and damp. Her eyes spoke to him, as they always did, intense pools of green drinking him in. Every part of her called to every part of him, urging him to join her. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

He willed himself to harden, willed the grief, the misery, the despair to infuse him, to engulf him, to eradicate the love screaming from every cell of his body in one swift, destructive surge, leaving nothing in its wake.

"Beckett, what do you want?"

And with one word, she unleashed the flood.

"You."

The clean force of it, the pure certainty in her voice, the utter conviction in her eyes…it was staggering. And then she was moving, barreling towards him, and he was faltering, he was retreating, because he couldn't…she couldn't...

She did.

She assailed him, desperate lips finding his, taking his, slick hands cementing to his skin, holding him in place, the slim length of her melding itself to every surface of his body, claiming every inch. It was too much, she was too much, she was everything, and he couldn't…he just…he was overwrought.

She pulled away then, and he was so grateful, so unbelievably grateful, because he felt absolutely inundated, wholly submerged, and he'd never so desperately needed her not to be near him.

But she didn't go far, not far at all, not nearly far enough. She was still everywhere, surrounding him, touching him, hands, hair, body, the sound of her breathing in his ears, the feel of her forehead gliding wet down his, the scent of her skin against his nose, the taste of her mouth on his lips. Oh God. The taste of her…

"I'm so sorry, Castle. I'm so sorry."

It was achingly intimate, gut-wrenchingly raw, straight from her heart and so obviously true. His breath caught in his throat as her nose circled his, begging him to know, to see, to understand.

But he didn't, couldn't. The confusion was just too much, he was utterly adrift, and she was still enveloping him, shredding his senses, drowning his thoughts, completely overwhelming every fiber of his being.

"I'm so sorry."

And then she was kissing him again, and he never wanted it to stop, but it had to stop, had to end now, because they couldn't do this, not after he'd already decided, not after he'd already used every single ounce of his strength to leave, every last drop of his resolve to finally let her go.

He pushed her away, gripping her arms and holding on for dear life lest she return, a small part of him screaming at the loss, but the larger part gasping in relief, needing air, space, distance. Needing time to recover, time to comprehend. He resurfaced, gulping oxygen, regaining his senses. And then he forced himself to look at her, truly look at her.

Kate…

Her eyes were so open. So clear, so transparent, so sure. Tears slid down both of her cheeks as she gazed at him steadily, and he suddenly realized that there were no barriers left, no hint of anything resembling a wall. He could see into her, fathoms deeper than ever before. And there was no fury, no anger, no frustration, or rage. The reflection was utterly still, beautifully calm. Waiting. She was waiting for him. She was waiting for him.

The revelation shook him, and he had to turn away, furiously flinging off the pain and the hurt, violently shrugging aside the memories of betrayal and deception, needing to shed it, shed it all, so he could focus. Focus only on the here and now.

He had to concentrate, had to, because whatever was happening, whatever was occurring in this moment was just…immeasurable. His eyes returned to hers, ready, needing to know.

"What happened?"

She answered him immediately, her voice quiet, honest, holding nothing back.

"He got away…and I didn't care."

Her gaze held his as she spoke, an exquisite half-smile playing across the corners of her lips as she confided in him, genuine contentment gleaming from every delicate feature as she stood there and confessed her heart.

Without warning, hope exploded from his chest, suppressed this whole time, because it was just too dangerous to contemplate. He shied away from it, tried frantically to quash it. No. No, no, no…

"I almost died…"

He stared, heart pounding, struggling for control as a thousand emotions stormed and surged and careened wildly inside him, ferocious, unimaginable nightmares turning to reality at her words. She'd almost died…

"…and all I could think about was you."

There was a skip then, a pause, an agonizing eternity of incomprehension…and then clarity burst forth, lighting and penetrating every corner of his mind, shining through the maelstrom within, sweeping away the desolation and the darkness, leaving nothing but blinding revelation in its path.

She wasn't on the edge.

She wasn't on the edge at all. She was here. She was right here. With him. The inconceivability of this moment, the sheer and unadulterated shock of it, was just…he was incapable of processing it. Everything blanked, everything but her.

He watched in stunned disbelief, frozen, as her eyes explored his face, mapping it, memorizing it, devouring every detail. And then her gaze dropped to his lips, and her eyes darkened.

"I just want you."

Her words flared over him, into him, coursing through his veins. And suddenly she was in motion, magnetized, reeling herself into him as if she had no choice in the matter, as if she were a compass, and he was North.

And suddenly he realized that they were on an edge, an edge neither of them had ever seen or experienced before. The precipice beckoned, the chasm yawned beneath them, dizzying in its immensity, and they were swaying on the verge. The recognition jolted him from his stupor, supplied him with the strength to hold her back, preserving the distance between them.

His eyes sought hers desperately, willing them to open, needing to be absolutely sure. And they did, lids fluttering apart, green seeking blue, connecting. And what he saw there stopped his heart.

She was terrified. Utterly and completely terrified.

And he knew, he knew why, because he had seen that same emotion so many times, felt it so many times. Felt it every time he envisioned losing her.

She was in the past. She was on the edge, her edge. And she was slipping, life hanging by nothing but fingertips. And all she feared was losing him.

She reached out to him, slowly, as if it might be the last time. Her hand drew nearer and nearer, and it was his to decide, his to choose. Two outcomes, two directions, two distinct possibilities. He could leave her on that edge in her past. Or he could join her on the brink of their future.

Thunder surged and lightning flashed as her fingers met his lips. And he decided. He chose.

Her.

He swallowed the distance, obliterated it, and she was in his arms, safe, secure, sheltered and protected, and neither was clinging to anything but the other, and he kept moving, propelling them both, lunging forward, up, out, over, leaping, soaring, diving heart-first directly into vast, clear, blissful always.

Finally in freefall.
Together.


Good lord! This one was so much more challenging than 'Behind Green Eyes'!

Castle's thoughts were infinitely harder to write than Beckett's - he just gets hammered in this scene, emotionally lambasted over and over and over again. I'm really not entirely sure if I pulled it off. I'd love to hear your take on this one - what did you think?

UPDATE: chapter two is now up, and I can't thank you all enough for the wonderful feedback on this story! You guys rock! :D