A/N: Because I didn't feel like paying attention in class, and now I really don't want to study... Yay procrastination!
Disclaimer: I think this goes without saying, but I only wish I owned Castle.
Ran into you yesterday
Memories rushed through my brain
it started to hit me
now you're not with me
I realized I made a mistake
I thought I needed some space
But I just let love go to waste
It's so crystal clear now
that I need your here now
I gotta get you back today
-John Legend, This Time
One foot in front of the other. Breathe in, breathe out. The fresh air is good for you, she has to remind herself. She hasn't had to force herself to do the simple things, like breath or walk, in a long time. But she can't let herself think about that; if she does, she might not make it home before she breaks.
She's so focused on her mission -get home quickly and in one piece- that she doesn't notice the car pulling up next to her until it's too late.
"Beckett."
Shit. She closes her eyes, trying not to hyperventilate. She can't deal with this right now. She keeps walking, praying that this is just her mind playing a cruel trick. She hears the car stop and a door open. No, no, no.
"Kate."
Her eyes jerk open when she feels his hand grasp her wrist. "What the hell do you want, Castle?"
"It's freezing out here. Let me give you a ride home."
"No."
"It's midnight and you've got at least another half hour's walk. Please."
He can practically hear the debate going on in her head, although he's not quite sure why it's such a big deal- for her, at least. He can see her starting to wear herself down; he simply walks back to his car, opens the door, and waits for her to give in.
She settles herself into the car, as far away from him as is possible. He sighs. He can tell she hasn't been sleeping; probably not eating either, if the sharper, more hallowed lines of her cheekbones are any indication. The realization that he still feels the innate need to take care of her causes his chest to twist painfully.
Her eyes harden as she catches him staring. "What are you even doing out in this part of town, Castle?"
There's steel in her voice; it almost masks the hint of vulnerability, almost. That stings, a lot, more than he thought it would.
"Some stupid publicity event," he answers curtly. She wonders, internally, where the limo and the blonde are. As if he can still read some of her thoughts, he responds quietly to her unanswered question. "Too flashy, especially for a drive home."
He sounds weary, worn down, and so unlike the playboy she's come to expect. It almost makes her feel bad.
When the car stops, presumably in front of her apartment, she reaches for the handle, eager to get back to her bubble of independence and solitude, safety. His voice stops her.
"Can I take you to dinner? I know a place, a few blocks over and, if I haven't eaten tonight, I think it's safe to assume you haven't either."
Her heart clenches; oh how well he still knows her. She hasn't eaten anything since lunch, which consisted of the granola bar she had grabbed for breakfast. Even though she knows she has absolutely no food in her apartment, she begins to shake her head- but, apparently, judging by it's sudden grumbling, her stomach has other ideas.
He is fully aware of her reluctance to accept his offer, but he'll take what he can get. It's been three months since his last case; he thought he had been getting over her, but seeing her tonight brings back all his suppressed feelings. His mother was right, love isn't a switch that can be turned off. Once they're seated in the restaurant, he takes a moment to really look at her; his heart sinks at the sight.
Her hair is pulled tightly into a bun and her dark, sharp clothes reflect the dark emptiness of her eyes; she looks haunted. The waiter comes to take their order, and when he looks back at her, her eyes have hardened even more, if possible. Her face is a mask of calm as she asks him what he's doing.
What is he doing? He isn't really sure, so he decides to go with an answer he hopes is safe.
"Having dinner with a friend."
She inhales sharply, looking livid. Okay, so not the best response, but at least she's showing some emotion other than cold indifference.
"Is that what this is, dinner with a friend? Because it looks a lot like pity from this side of the table."
What, pity? No. But sadly, he can't even wonder how she could think that, because he knows. Instead, he asks, "What reason would I possibly have to pity you?"
She scoffs at him, taken aback. "Off the top of my head? I can think of plenty. Because my mother was murdered and I was almost killed because I couldn't get over it? Or, maybe, because no amount of therapy will ever be able to fix what's broken inside me? Or, is it because you realized that I heard you that day in the cemetery, and you don't know how to tell me you didn't really mean it, that you had only said it because I was dying? Well, let me tell you, I got the message. Loud and clear."
He looks at her, shocked. "Is that really what you think?"
"You know, I don't really know what to think."
He sighs, "Why did you lie, Kate?"
She closes her eyes, might as well be honest. What does she have left to lose?
"I was hoping you would say it again. So I would know for sure you had meant it, that it hadn't been a dream or a memory I had created so I could have something to latch on to; so I could say it back."
"You said 'always' and I believed you. I thought you understood what I meant that day on the swings, that I wanted and needed to be better for you; but here I am now, alone, and even more broken."
His heart is beating frantically at her words. He can't draw even a shallow breath.
Tears well in her eyes as she takes in his blank expression. Oh god, what has she done? She needs an escape, so she does what she does best- she runs.
The scraping of the chair brings him back to reality. He jumps up and throws a wad of cash on the table.
This time, he goes after her.