Another insert for 7x20 because Elizabeth asked for it and how could I not write about one of the most beautiful parallels we've ever been given?
Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.
This takes place before Castle starts seeing Burke, so assume that there was one more night before he went to see him.
A Painful Similarity
The blinking lights on the microwave read one a.m. but it has long since passed that hour. A raging storm has been unleashing its wrath on the city for the better part of the evening into the night. The power has flashed on and off multiple times, leaving bright strings of lightening as the only light, the only superhero against a villain of darkness. The thunder rolls, loud, angry booms echoing, lingering and Castle finds that for once, the storms outside are a welcome distraction from the storm inside him.
He abandoned the bed hours ago, any chance of actually sleeping peacefully lost to the recurring dreams that now haunt him. He's a frozen figure in a dimly lit corner of the living room, the closest example to a zombie that he's been since he actually dressed as one a few years ago to help catch a suspect.
Wide, unseeing eyes focus on everything and nothing at the same time, stormy orbs completely unware of his wife as she moves silently into the room, observing her once vibrant husband as he hovers dangerously on the edge of a rabbit hole that she fears may be deeper than her own.
Kate glances at the clock on the wall, it's nearing four and she knows he's been gone from her side for a long time, could tell by the coolness of the sheets on his side of the bed. Worry creases the center of her forehead, a frown thinning the plump lines of her lips even as she fights a sigh, because this, the sight of her husband in this state, it's something she never wanted to see and hopes to never see again when it's over.
The last thing she wants to do is startle him. The state he's in is so fragile, so close to the tipping point that she knows she has to tread carefully, lest she do more harm than help.
She slips soundlessly through the living room until she's next to him, her thigh brushing the arm of the chair he's awkwardly positioned on. It's a held breath in a moment of uncertainty as she eases her body onto the arm of the chair, wraps her arm carefully around Castle's broad shoulders and hums a calming sound to reassure him that it's only her, that he's safe.
Castle doesn't startle, doesn't throw her from the chair in a haste to get away and she's thankful for that, but his complete lack of reaction has her worry levels increasing at a rapid rate.
"Rick," she soothes, easing her hand over the short hairs on his neck, working her fingers over the tight muscles there when he relaxes slightly at the sound of her voice.
He's tense, rigid and all hard lines even as he acknowledges her presence with the slightest flick of his eyes her way before returning his gaze to the window, to the pouring rain, though she's not entirely sure that he's actually watching the rain so much as using it as a vessel for whatever nightmare he's currently reliving.
"Hey, how long have you been out here?" she asks, keeping her voice soft and easy, her hand warm and reassuring against his skin.
"Too long," he rasps, something dark lingering in the baritone of his voice. "Can't sleep, can't deal with more memories that don't make any sense."
She finally gets him to ease back, enough so that she can see his face, take in the dark circles and weariness that plague him. He lifts his eyes to hers, searches her face for so long that she'd tell him it was creepy if she didn't know that he's looking for the anchor, the grounding reassurance of her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, offering him anything that he needs, anything that will help him.
"What I want, is to know the truth," he says, squeezing his eyes closed when a sudden clap of thunder shakes the loft.
And another flash of lighting illuminates the room, highlights the defeated, drowning image of her husband, painting a picture that she's all too familiar with. He's falling, losing the fight, inching closer and closer to the plunge and the threat of falling down the rabbit hole, of losing himself to this because he needs so desperately to know the truth. She's been there, she's been the one he was pulling back from the edge time after time.
And she needs him to know. She needs him aware that everything he was to her during those times, everything he's been and still is are the things she's willing to be for him.
"Babe, look at me," she requests, watching as he struggles away from the edge, away from everything that's swallowing him.
He forces his eyes open, finds her waiting patiently, lets her bring him back.
Kate twists her body around so that she's facing him, reaches for his hand to keep him close, but clearly he thinks that's not enough because he tugs on her hand, silently begs her for more. She slides onto his lap, drapes herself across him so that there's no space separating them, nothing but her for him to see.
"You're not fighting this alone. You're not alone, do you hear me?"
She waits for his acknowledgement before she continues.
"When you first met me I was a hollow shell. A result of too many years of wondering around the rabbit hole of my mother's murder with no answers. I had climbed out of it, but I wasn't the same anymore. I wasn't whole. When I met you, you started to ground me, you started to put me back together long before I ever wanted to admit it. When we reopened my mother's case, you pulled me back from the edge time after time. You kept me from falling, from being consumed by it."
"I had to, Kate," he murmurs, his fingers finding hers in a grip that's borderline too tight and yet everything they need in the moment. "There was never another option."
"I want to do the same for you. I want to be the one to pull you back, the one to walk beside you, to fight this with you."
"You've been doing that, Kate. You've been walking beside me, fighting this with me since I was found. Even when you weren't sure of what to believe."
She shifts, presses herself closer to him.
"I know what it's like to feel as if you're being swallowed. I know how small it makes you feel going up against something so big, something so unknown. But no matter what, you're not alone."
He whimpers, a pitiful sound that crawls up his throat, breaks free without his knowledge and Kate feels the emotion before she ever sees it. And she allows her head to drop against his chest.
"I'm scared of not knowing, Kate. I just want to know what I did and why it had to be on our wedding day. Because nothing, nothing was more important to me on that day then marrying you."
Kate wraps her arms around his waist, holds onto him as if the whipping wind from the outside storm will blow her away.
"I know, Rick. I know. It's okay to be scared. We'll get as many answers as we can, we will."
"And the ones we don't?" he asks, anxiety lacing heavily in his voice.
"We'll deal with it just like we have been. I'm fighting this with you, Rick. I'm right here, right beside you and I'm not going anywhere."
"Thank you," he whispers, arms finally wrapping tightly around her.
"Always," she breathes, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest.
They stay like that until the morning light begins to filter through the window, the storm still alive though its power is dwindling away. Sleep still hasn't come, but something has lifted, changed in a promising way.
The aroma of coffee drifts through the loft as the machine kicks on, brewing a perfect pot for the weary couple.
Kate tries to talk herself into easing off of her husband so that she can fill their mugs and come back to him, but the warm weight of his arms and the steady beating of his heart call to her, beg her not to leave.
Castle's voice breaks the silence, the warm timber of his voice a gentle reminder that another morning has come.
"Kate," he calls softly, as if he's afraid she might be asleep.
She lifts her head slowly, graces him with a beautiful smile that lights up the room and lifts his heart.
"I want to promise you something," he says, lifting a hand to her face, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Castle, you don't have to do that. We're going to get through this," she says, reaching for his hand before he can pull it away completely and cradling it to her chest.
"I know. But this is a promise that I need to make to you, a promise that I need you to hear."
"Okay," she nods, because his eyes are pleading and she can't deny the desperation in them.
"No matter where this leads. No matter what we find out, I promise, if it gets too dangerous, if it takes us to a place that we need to walk away from, I will walk away. I'll stop looking, stop investigating. Because coming back to you, choosing you, will always be the most important thing."
She remembers a time when she was scared, when the things her heart wanted were entwined with the things it needed and she had trouble separating them. She remembers choosing her mother's case over him and then paying for that choice. She remembers choosing him after it almost killed her and how continuing to choose him has become the only option.
"I'll always be right here, Rick. Right here beside you. Never far away, never letting you go."
The thunder has ceased, the wind no more than a gentle breeze and the rain gives way to sunshine. The storm becomes a memory, a thing of the past that can longer take hold of the present.
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