He had waited for her to leave the room before walking to her door taking in a deep inhalation, feeling it fill his lungs and puff his chest before letting it all go out, trying to gain and gather some self-assurance. He had not forgotten how she had literally thrown him away the night before, and he knew she was more likely to ignore him than not, and he had not found a plan b, yet. That would come when -if- needed, and if not he would just improvise, it worked with the writing. She perhaps might had been unsettled by him just because it was getting dark, and it was not a common thing to run into someone over here.

No big deal. But even as he thought about that once again, it didn't explain such a strong reaction, he had not lifted a gun to her head, after all.

He briefly shook his head, putting those thoughts aside and raised a fist to the door, knocking firmly, the wood letting out a hollow sound. He hid both his hands in his pockets, swinging casually on his feet as he waited on her, his eyebrows drawn in serious straight lines, trying to hear through the door.

Rolling back to face the ceiling, she reluctantly flung her legs out of her bed and her whole body went still and froze once she sat at the edge of her bed. She felt her breath hitch and an oppressive weight inside her chest. The hole between her breasts stretched and seemed to tear her apart. She didn't even try to prevent the loud whine from escaping her mouth as her back bowed, and she gripped the sheets forcefully, hot, frustrated tears falling and rolling along her cheeks. She was an idiot, moving around as if everything was fine, as if she was fine. As if she didn't have a hole in her chest, threatening to swallow her whole from the inside.

She hated all of that, hated having to hide here, hated feeling her body shatter at her every move. Hated being broken and helplessly weak. Wiping at her cheeks and bracing herself, she took a shaky gulp of air and stood, dragging herself to the small kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee, taking comfort in what she could. Not much more was to be done anyway. She had to settle for small things.

For now.

She was long gone into her thoughts when the first knock went through the room, but as another stronger one echoed across to her, it finally seemed to reach her because the cup she was holding crashed against the wooden floor, the dark liquid flowing along the lines of the flooring, and she whirled sharply toward the door, staring at it as if someone would break through it at any moment, and hurried to her bedroom, picking up her backup piece. She pressed her back and the side of her face flat against the wall just next to the window leading outside, right next to the door, as her chest heaved rapidly. Needless to say, she didn't expect what she saw then.

What the- again! What was he even doing here?!

How did he even know where she lived? Had he kept an eye on her when she had thought he had left the night before? Followed her home? She felt goosebumps creeping along her neck and arms at the thought, and she licked her lips keeping her eyes on him, thinking about what she could do. Either she could open the door to show him what a good idea it had been to come here, or she could ignore him and hope he would eventually end up leaving her alone.

Him being here right at this moment was a proof the man wasn't one to give up easily, though. She let her head drop against the wall as she weighed her options. She didn't understand what was up with him. She still remembered how concerned for her he had sounded, and she didn't get why. Why couldn't he just get back to his business and stay on his side of the wood? He just didn't know what he was about to walk into. Surely he would leave her alone fast enough once he realised.

She was going to make sure he did.

He thought he could hear some moving happening at the other side of the door but it was nothing really clear, it made him think about rushed steps and he was almost sure he had heard something break. Alright, coming straight to her own home might not have been the best idea but what was he supposed to do? Leave her alone when she clearly needed help?

You don't know that.

He couldn't help snorting at himself for that. Sure, he didn't know, but he had felt it in his guts. Something with her wasn't right. He was good at reading people and observing them; it was what his job was about.

The door burst open and if that alone hadn't been why he had stepped back hastily with a not so manly yelp, the woman before him sure was. She was standing hard on her feet, a gun pointed at him, her face a neutral mask he couldn't read and looking nothing like she had the night before or just minutes ago hunched over herself on her bed. No hint of weariness or uneasiness was left now, she looked like a soldier ready for battle and, damn, that was hot.

Maybe the whole gun thing wasn't a necessity, though.

The look she was giving him was almost lethal, the green of her eyes so dark, cool as marble, that he could feel his body stirring with it, his primal instincts screaming at him to go now before it was too late. Without moving an inch, she finally started talking.

"You shouldn't have come here." He cringed as she spoke, her tone so sharp and raw. He took a better look at her and, even though she looked unwavering, his clever eyes didn't miss the way her chest rose and the slight tremor of her hand around the weapon. She clearly wanted to be in charge here and he would let her be - or let her think she was - since he was obviously not welcome.

"Hey, look. I could explain myself if that's what you want... but, can you please put that thing down?" He tried to make sure he looked relaxed because he was pretty sure she wouldn't shoot him either way and someone needed to stay cool, and that was not going to be her. He wanted to make her feel at ease.

"I don't want any of your explanations, Mr. Castle, since what you're better at is making stuff up." She stated just as harshly, one of her brows rising in a perfect arc, challenging him.

That might have stung a little but he wouldn't dare to show it. No need to give her that. But hey, at least she knew who he was. So her problem wasn't that she's scared he was some kind of psychopath. There was that.

"Do I have a fan?" He asked and he knew it sounded entirely too cocky but he wanted to shake her a little bit, get under her skin. Somehow, he sensed only that would be worth trying.

He saw her bite her lip and something wistful, almost sad, flashed over her face but she made a quick work of wiping it away, putting her mask back on.

"Don't make me shoot you," She threw back at him, her jaw set, eyes boring straight through him, snatching his soul out of him but her tone now lighter.

Oh, he was so done for.

"I- You know, I just- I just wanted to make sure you were alright? I mean, you seemed pretty off yesterday and- I was just being thoughtful."

And I don't need you to be.

She lowered her armed hand to cross her arms around her herself as she kept eyes on him, studying him. Richard Castle. She almost wanted to roll her eyes because, what were the odds, really? For everyone on earth, she had to stumble upon him, in empty woods, nonetheless. She had to admit he looked nothing like she had imagined, personality speaking. He did look way better for real than at the back of his books, not that she would tell him so in any way or universe; all man but so very boyish at the same time, the dark, vibrant blue pooling in his irises agitated by so many emotions, smile and laughter lines all around his eyes. That hair flopping above his forehead she longed to smooth away. She always had found him attractive but she was more surprised about his behaviour. He still was a cocky smartass, she had figured that much, but he had something so serious, wise and caring, to him that it made her want to trust him.

No.

He was still that world famous author, strutting on page six with a different woman wrapped around his arm every week. She noticed she hadn't heard of him in a pretty long time, though. He had killed off his main character and stopped the series, hadn't published anything since then. She missed him - not him, she missed his writing, not him.

Not the point, Beckett. Time to end it.

"Look, I appreciate the concern. I really do. But it's unnecessary, there is nothing you can do. And that's why I'm asking you to leave," She heard herself say before she had even thought about it but she felt her strength falter, and it was only a matter of time before she'd crash again. She couldn't allow herself to do it in front of him. She had already shown him enough of her weakness. "I'm actually getting tired and I need to rest."

She tried to sound random, and not as if she was about to fall apart at any moment, but she herself could hear the quiver in her voice; she was almost sure he could see the way her legs were slightly creased, not seeming to hold her weight anymore. His face had turned ridiculously serious all of a sudden, his fingers and hands constantly twitching forward and toward her as if he itched to hold her but he stayed motionless, still. She somehow felt sorry for him but it was pointless to hide it, it would only ask for more strength than she had. But, she could retreat with some dignity left.

He was still thinking kindly and she couldn't really punish him for it, so she did the only thing she could think of and extended an open hand for him to shake as she offered him a weak lopsided smile. She knew it didn't reach her eyes but hopefully, it would be enough.

He stared at her hand, heart tumbling in his throat, and raised his eyes back to her when her brows slightly lifted up and the curved of her lips deepened, urging him. He didn't know why he couldn't function, rooted there. She visibly was having a hard time staying upright and still, she kept trying to stand taller and he was speechless, again. He kept seeing her breaking down and then as if nothing happened she gathered herself up and stood tall and proud, head high. Not minutes ago she had stood her ground before him, swinging him away from her high steel fences and now here she was: An open hand to him and a so-very-small smile tugging at her lips.

And if that wasn't one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.

He swallowed his emotions down and looking straight at her, cold green of her eyes now won over by a soft golden brown, he wrapped his large hand around her small and weak one. He could feel the weight in it, the way her body relied on him and so he strengthened his grip.

Looking down he let his thumb softly trace circles over her cold skin and when his eyes shot back at her, he was met with a hesitant gaze. She trapped her lips between her teeth, looking away toward the lake.

Sensing her discomfort and her attempts at pulling away, he let her take her hand back and cleared his throat, hiding his hands back in his jeans pockets.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then, and uh- yes, just- I'll go now." He babbled pointing behind him and rubbing the back of his neck he turned to walk away but hearing her voice, he halted abruptly himself, angling his body to her, once again.

"By the way, name's Kate."

Just like that, she gave him yet another smile, wider this time but not really looking at him, her eyes shying away, and then turned back inside the cabin, and closed the door right behind her - but not before throwing him one last look.

Kate.

How was he supposed to go back now?