AN: I had several PM's asking me to write about how Castle was affected by the fire as well. Taking the idea that these two are so attune to each other that Castle would catch the glimpses of Kate that at times would like to rebuild her walls. If you did not read After the Fire, it's not necessary, but the two do go together as one story and this will probably make more sense if you do. As always, thank you Kjf3333 for her insights and her super ninja beta skills and to Tshlw for taking my incoherent mumblings and making them into a story. Castle's letter to Kate is in italics as it is broken up by a paragraph. I do not own Castle, the characters etc., add in all the other usual disclaimers here.

Thank you to JoanaCTeixeira for the cover art!

He feels her watching him, he's delaying his departure and she knows it. Still, he continues to thread each button at a snail's pace, hoping that the few extra minutes would give her time to reconsider, forget old habits, and come home. But as he threaded the final button, he knew his hesitation was in vain, she needed time alone, a part of her he was not sure she would ever be able to relent. She stood to place a chaste kiss to his lips, and he saw it, the exhaustion, the guilt, the sheer weight of the day was evident in her eyes. Just as he was about to protest further, a fleeting glimpse of stubbornness flashed in her eyes, and he knew this was a battle he would not win. She ran her hand down his arm, intertwined her fingers with his, giving his hand a light squeeze, a silent gesture of love, appreciation, knowing he understood exactly what she needed. He reached up to cradle her cheek in his hand as his thumb slowly swept across her cheekbone, just below her eye, his action telling her without words, he is here for her, always. She listed into his touch, as he leaned forward, and placed a light kiss to her brow. Exhaling a heavy sigh, he dropped his hand away and headed towards the elevator.

He closed the door behind him, shrugged off his coat, hung it in the closet, and made his way across the room. The loft was dark; the moonlight shining through the light coating of moisture upon the large windows tripped and skidded along all the flat surfaces, causing them to shimmer with an iridescent glow. He was transfixed by the sight; he began to make his way towards the windows, as though the moon's gravitational force was drawing him in, the same way it pulls on the oceans tides.

Closing his eyes, he rested his brow upon the glass letting the cool feeling sooth the beginnings of the headache that was building just behind his eyes. He exhaled a heavy breath, fogging the glass momentarily, hindering his vision of the street below. As it began to dissipate, the scene became clear, like a curtain slowly being drawn back on a Broadway show. Pulling his head back slightly, he watched as people from all walks of life ambled down the sidewalks and he could not help but be slightly envious. All blissfully unaware of the dangers that they all see on a daily basis, how seemingly ordinary people are capable of such unspeakable things.

Breaking his gaze from the activity below, he makes his way to the beverage cart on his right, usually he would unwind with Kate at the end of a hard case with a scotch or glass of wine, but it was an emotional day, and even if she was not with him he saw no reason to break with tradition.

The ice in his glass clinks softly together as he makes his way back to the window, drawing it up to his lips, he takes a sip and feels a slight burn as the cool liquid slides down his throat. As he lowers the glass, his eyes are drawn to the rich dark amber liquid, the color reminiscent of the flames that almost took three lives tonight, the boys and his fiancée. Although she was never in danger of perishing in the fire itself, the look of pure guilt he saw in her eyes had him worried as to what would have happened to her emotionally if her team, her family, had died tonight.

The lights on the cruiser cut through the darkness, the flashing red and blue bouncing off buildings and store front windows as they sped through traffic. Her hand was gripping the wheel with such force, her knuckles were white with the effort, brow furrowed, her eyes fixed firmly upon the road. With each of her repeated phone calls to the boys going unanswered the tension in the car continued to rise, a palatable electric current buzzing between them. He reached out his hand, catching her attention for a brief moment desperate to reassure her, give her something to cling to, keep her grounded. They arrived at the scene, the air thick with the smoke and smell of burning debris, fire fighter's hurrying by, ambulances at the ready; chaos. The building fully enveloped by fire, the flames appearing all that much brighter with the pitch black of the sky as the backdrop. There was no way to get them out, as the realization of the situation began to quickly set in, her eyes filled with unshed tears, the possibility that she would never see the boys again, and that it would be her fault.

An approaching shadow off to the left catches his vision and his focus returns to the street below. A young couple, laughing, his arm draped across her shoulder, pulling her tightly into his side, her arm slung low across his back, fingers tucked into his back pocket, carefree. He can't help but wonder if they also had to pay such a high price for that happiness, as Kate did for hers. With a heavy sigh, he throws back the remaining scotch, places the empty glass back on the cart and heads into the bedroom.

After a quick shower, he throws on a pair of boxers, a t-shirt and slips into bed. Lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, restless. He screws his eyes closed in a desperate attempt to quiet his thoughts. Rolling side to side, shifting, in a futile attempt to find a comfortable position, he knows what he needs. The raw emotions of the day clawing, begging to be freed, unburden himself of the mutinous ideas in his head. Twisting to his side, he leans over, reaches into his night stand to remove a pad and pen, and begins to write. All his fears, insecurities, secrets kept hidden deep, rising to the surface.

Dear Kate,

I know you are not one to believe in fate, or magic, that for you everyday life holds enough mystery to last for a lifetime of discovery, but the romantic in me wants to believe that our souls were destined to be together. That even if it took a hundred lifetimes, we would find each other. There are times though; that I find myself wondering what would have happened had our paths never crossed. What if another detective was assigned to the copycat murder case? If I was never there to reopen your mother's case, with no leads, the layers of dust would have continued to collect on the outside of the box growing thicker with the years, as you moved farther and farther away from it. Never being so obsessed with finding answers, you would have never felt as though your life was worth less than your mother's death. You would have never experienced the pain of a snipers bullet piercing your heart. Nor waking up every day and wondering how you were still alive. Never having to carry the heavy burden of finally having the answers, but failing to get the justice your mother so rightly deserved; maybe they are right, ignorance is truly bliss.

On days like today I can see it, when I look in your eyes, the struggle, the longing to rebuild your walls, protect your heart, not feel the hurt, and I can't help but wonder, was it all worth it to you? That when you opened your heart to the joys of life you also opened it up to the pain, when you took down your walls, let people in, it made every loss that much more profound. Was the struggle and heartbreak, the path we chose, the intertwining of our lives, the pain, the risks we took, all that we have lost along the way to get to where we are now, worth it?

He lifts his pen from the paper, needing a moment to pause, collect the thoughts that are threating to consume him, his eyes slip closed and he inhales a shaky breath. Twisting his neck from side to side, hearing the crack and pop of his vertebrae, he opens his eyes and draws the pen back to the paper. His last thought, the one above all else, the one he knows without hesitation;

I wouldn't change a thing.

Love always,

Rick

He feels his eyes begin to grow heavy, his body urging him to give into the exhaustion of the day. He struggles to stay awake, be there for her when she finally gets home, but no longer able to fight it, his eyes slip closed.

She flips off the light, and emerges from the bathroom, exhausted. She longs to just curl up beside him and put the emotionally draining day behind her. She reaches out, pulls the covers back and climbs into bed. Her body gravitating towards him, she feels a sharp poke to her thigh that halts her movements. She reaches out with her right hand and turns on the beside lamp, as her left hand lifts the covers, her head cocking to the side to see what the object is. Pulling the pad and pen out from under the covers, she leans to the side with intentions of placing it on the night stand when her name catches her eye. Curiosity getting the better of her, she finds herself already reading the words, unable stop.

Her eyes finally come to rest on his final words and she reaches up to wipe away a tear, halting its silent journey down her cheek. Seeing all his insecurities laid out, a decision is made; she needs him to know where she stands. She places her hand on his shoulder, gently rousing him from sleep. He mumbles her name, and she patiently waits until his eyes meet hers, slowly leaning forward she places a gentle kiss to his lips. Pulling back slightly, she meets his eyes again, the answer a mere whisper of breath ghosting across his lips;

"I wouldn't change a thing."

Additional AN: If you would like to follow me on twitter you can do so at Pak_321 I also have an additional twitter account where I use the quotes to recreate the scene from the show, twitter sized. You can follow that at Castleficlets