Salt Water
Take me where love isn't up for sale
Take me where our hearts are not so frail
Take me where the fire still owns its spark
There's only one way to mend a broken heart.
Teach me how to see when I close my eyes
Teach me to forgive and to apologize
Show me how to love in the darkest dark
There's only one way to mend a broken heart.
- Beautiful Dawn, The Wailin' Jennys
They stay that way – her out on the edge of the lawn, he on the porch – for an hour. She starts to shiver without noticing it, the sweatshirt doing nothing to block out the ocean breeze.
"You're cold."
She starts, nearly falling to the side, when his voice rumbles next to her. He has a hand held down to her, a small smile on his face. "I'm fine," she says, shaking her head and stretching her feet out in front of her. The reeds scratch her calves.
"Kate," he says, crouching down next to her. "Can we make a bargain here?" She nods once, facing the waves instead of him. "You promise not to lie, I'll promise not to push, okay?" He holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable "no" from her.
But instead, there's a quiet "Sure" as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"So let's start again." His lips turn up in a crooked smile, one that wavers a little even as he speaks. "You're cold."
Kate takes his hand, letting him pull her up to her feet. "Kinda."
"Let's go inside then."
She hesitates, looking back at the ocean, toes curling into the grass. She wants to stay; he can tell from her body language. But he gives her a tug back toward the house. "Come on. The ocean will still be here when the temperature warms up."
He lets go of her hand when they walk back. Kate has her arms crossed over her chest, elbows cupped in her hands, only the tips of her fingers visible in the sleeves. Castle stays a few feet behind her, watching as her back curves, as if a weight on her shoulders increases with every step toward the back porch. She stumbles, foot catching on one of the steps and he runs forward to catch her waist.
"Careful," he says gently, letting her go as soon as her feet are back under her.
"Thanks," she mumbles, pushing her hair back behind her shoulder as she looks back at him. "I…"
He places a finger over her lips, silencing her. "Kate, another thing. No more 'thank you's or apologies. I already know."
She smiles and the movement warms him, heat zipping down to his toes from his fingertip. The first smile in a long, long time from her to him. "You a mind reader now, Castle?"
"I am," he replies confidently, moving around her to open the door and waving his arm into the living room. "So be careful what you think around me."
"And just how big is the radius of your telepathic powers?" Her fingers trail over the back of a sofa and oh, he wishes he could see her face for this. Could see the way her eyes crinkle in amusement – he hopes – and her lips turn up into a smile, one of those close-lipped ones that make her look mysterious.
"Oh, quite large. I'd try not think anything negative about me while in this house, actually."
She turns, resting the small of her back on the couch. "Ah. I'll keep that in mind then."
The grin isn't as bright as he likes and her eyes still look sadder, though not as dull as they were four hours ago back at his loft. That's good. "Do you want something to eat? I think I have the makings for… Well, I don't know what I have here." He heads into the kitchen, opening the fridge and studying the contents. Not much. He hasn't been out here since two summers ago and the pickings are slim. "Uh, I've got iced tea and…" he trails off, pulling open cabinets. "And PopTarts."
"A real gourmet meal."
When he turns, she's closer, leaning on the breakfast bar, a leg wrapped around one of the stools.
"I'm fine. But you're tired," she says quietly, looking down at her fingers rather than at his face. "Go to bed."
"You're tired, too," he observes, stepping closer and tipping her face up, thumb skimming over her cheekbone. She's shaking, vibrating with some sort of nervous energy, but she meets his eyes, gaze steady. "There's a guest room upstairs, across the hall from the bathroom. It's yours, for however long you need it."
Kate pulls away, going back toward the living area. "I'm okay for now. I'll crash later." She flashes another sad smile over her shoulder at him. "Years of little to no sleep in a night." Before he can even think to open his mouth, she shakes her head. "I'm sure. Go sleep, Castle."
He walks through the hallway, stopping at the foot of the stairs, and looking back. She's still at the couch, hands curled around the throw blanket on the top of the cushions. Eyes closed, head down, her shoulders slumped. He can see her breathing, short and deep. He wants to wrap her up in that blanket, keep her safe with him. Protect her.
But it would drive her crazy.
So he takes the first step, then the second one. With the promise to himself to check on her later.
"Castle?"
The muffled whispering of his name rouses him faster than his alarm clock ever could. He pushes up off the pillow, rolling over to see her blurry outline on the other side of the bed. The clock on the side table flashes 8:37. "Kate? What's wrong?"
A sniffle and her hands twist in the sleeves of the sweatshirt. "I need… Can I just…?"
"Uh, yeah," he says, fighting to get the sleep from his voice. He reaches across the bed, flipping the covers up on the empty side. "You okay?" he asks softly as the mattress dips.
He hears her intake of breath, the start of "yes." Then she stops, shaking her head as she pulls a leg up under her body, sitting back against the pillows and headboard. "No. I'm not."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not yet," she sighs. "Can I lay here?"
Castle finds her eyes in the dim – those blackout curtains really do their job well – and they're shining with those same unshed tears as earlier. He nods, tugging on her fingertips until she slides down into the sheets. He rests his head on his elbow, watching her as she curls in on her side, facing away from him. His fingers itch to touch her, to smooth out the lines of stress still visible under the thick fabric of her sweatshirt. Her hair is a loose, dark spray over the pale blue pillowcase, curling wildly.
He's about to drop back into a dozing nap when she speaks again. "Castle?" He hums in response, blinking at the back of her head. "I'm sorry."
"Kate," he starts, rocking toward her without meaning to.
"No," she says, rolling over and mirroring his posture, head on her forearm. "I need to. I'm sorry. For being a mess and dragging you through all of this with me and…" She breaks off, a hand swiping under her eyes even though she's still holding back the tears. "I'm sorry." Her fingers skate over the cool sheets until they touch his. Just the lightest feathering of skin on skin before she withdraws.
"And I know you said to stop but, thank you. This, being here," Kate murmurs, "it helps."