A/N: I intended this to be a one-shot because I loved the idea of Castle removing his chair from its permanent position beside Beckett's desk. However, I think there could be more to the story. This is all posted before the episode "47 seconds" airs and I will probably lose interest after it airs so I will try to wrap it up quickly.

Kate delegated the next interviews to Esposito and Ryan, she couldn't concentrate well enough to do her job knowing that Castle was furious with her—knowing that he had every right to be furious with her. She told the boys that she was going out to look for Castle and asked them to cover for her with Gates. They readily agreed because they valued Castle and regarded him as part of their team too. Also, they read Beckett's mood and didn't ask any questions of how she had driven Castle to leave.

Kate's first stop was Castle's apartment. Surprisingly he answered the door, but quickly moved to slam it shut when he saw her face. She shoved her foot into the doorway and blocked it from shutting, ignoring the pain this caused her. Castle was stunned by her swift action and he stumbled two steps back, but didn't put up any more fight to keep her from entering the room. She saw that he had already begun drinking, the Scotch was sitting on the kitchen counter next to a half-empty highball. He regained his composure, grabbed his glass and stalked off to his office. Once there he slammed that door and Kate heard a lock click.

She crossed the room to the office door and tried to speak to him through it. "Castle, please let me in. I need to talk to you, I need to explain, to apologize." She spoke with an openness she had not used with Castle before. She knew she had hurt him and she knew that no sexual innuendo or comedic comment would get her out of this mess.

He remained silent, not answering in the affirmative or the negative. She realized that this was the worst possible scenario she could imagine. At least if he told her to go away he was acknowledging her – speaking to her. But the silence continued.

She examined the lock and realized that it was a simple interior lock able to be picked with a small flat screwdriver. Once she knew that she could get to Castle she tried to formulate a plan of how to apologize to him that would make him listen. After pacing for minutes through his living room she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and an idea came to her.

She slipped off her blouse to reveal a thin camisole underneath. She would have liked one that was more substantial as her plan did not involve seducing him. Instead she needed to reveal something to him. She found a tool to unlock to the door and without knowing what words she would use she let herself into the office.

His eyes rolled in his head when she opened the door. She knew he was exasperated with her for not leaving him alone, but she approached him anyway. He didn't back away, there was no longer anywhere for him to go. He sat on the edge of his desk and she went to stand in front of him. She picked up his empty left hand and raised the tips of his fingers to bullet hole scar on her chest. She guided his fingers over the entry wound that was still very visible. She touched that scar every morning so she knew that its contours spoke volumes and was still a powerful reminder to her of that day. She hoped that by letting him see it, letting him feel where her life had been shattered that day would be worth more than any words she could say.

Castle's hand began to move independent of her guidance. His index finger stroked the edges of the wound in a slow back and forth. She watched him close his eyes as he let his thumb have a turn feeling the bumpy smoothness of the healing entry wound. She watched as a tear escaped from his eye and slowly slid down his face. He didn't move his had from her chest to wipe it away.

Silently he opened his eyes and put down the drink that he held in his right hand. He stood and moved his body so that his right hand could now rest on the mark on her chest and his left hand reached for the exit wound in her back. She held her breath as he moved, afraid that if she spoke or moved away he would bolt again. She still didn't know what to say, but knew that her gesture, her actions, were speaking louder than any words she could have put together.

His eyes wandered to her back and stayed there while both of his hands played over these scars that were reminders of more than just that day at the funeral. She stayed still for what felt like an eternity and all of her training to remain silent and let the guilty party fill the silence with confession was forgotten. She could stand the silence no longer because she was the guilty party. She spoke, "I don't know why I couldn't tell you, admit that I remembered everything about the shooting. I was too overwhelmed at the hospital to deal with everything … anything. Then after, there was never a time to tell you. We were back to normal, we were comfortable. I didn't want to ruin it. And …" She finally stopped for a moment, she didn't want to make the next admission and hoped that he would interrupt, would break her flow. When he didn't make a sound, when he didn't step in to tell her it was okay, that he understood, she made her final statement. "And I liked knowing that you loved me, that you had actually said it and I hadn't inferred it from you following me for four years. I was selfish to keep that knowledge and not return any of it. I'm sorry Castle."

His hands dropped from her body and she was instantly cold. She hadn't realized the heat his body was radiating to her and the reaction her body experienced at his touch. He moved away from her to his oversized computer monitor. He touched the screen and revealed his murderboard to her. The picture of her was centered on the screen and was surrounded by all the players in the case. Her eyes relayed the images to her brain, but she sat frozen in time as confusion paralyzed her. Her own murderboard in her apartment sat untouched, closed up in fact, at the request of Castle, that she let it go. Yet here was an up-to-date version in the place where his next Nikki Heat novel should be story boarded.

Castle used her motionless state to move from the room without her even noticing. She had noticed, but his leaving did not register as a problem to her. She inched closer to the screen and her eyes saw the all-too-familiar faces of her past. Her mother's face looked back at her; Dick Coonan's eyes were still alive on this screen; Roy Montgomery's smile ripped into her heart; and other faces, so many others, but all dead. Finally she glanced at a blank space with a question mark filling the slot. Underneath was written, "Mystery Caller". She turned around, intent on asking Castle about this person and found that he had not returned to the room.

She wandered out of the office and to the kitchen, assuming that he had gone to make coffee so they could discuss this development. He was nowhere to be found. She called his name, but got only silence in return. She wandered, slowly at first and then with more speed throughout the apartment. She wanted to cling to the idea that Castle was there, was ready to explain everything to her. When she allowed herself to believe that he was gone she sank to the couch feeling more alone than ever.