Cause I didn't say it before, Castle is not mine.

He knocks on her door again for the second time in three days. All of the hopeful expectation is gone now and is instead replaced with dread. Although he hasn't spoken to her since the morning of his return, he can't stop thinking about her, about them. Where he might have gone wrong, why they struggle being with each other.

He's considered how perhaps he was wrong to have left her. They had never really had a discussion about him volunteering abroad. It had been more of a declaration on his part. But she had seemed okay with it, hadn't she? He knows she's just as focused on her career as he is after all. Maybe if he just gives her more time… But he knows her voicemail from two days ago didn't leave much room for hope.

Her words had been simple. "Stop by my place when you get off…if you have time. I think we both know we need to talk."

If you have time. This qualification was tacked on with the faintest hint of bitterness that he isn't quite sure he deserves. He still feels the sting of the words when he plays the recorded message in his mind, and despite the unmistakable weariness in her voice, she is determined, decisive. That's how he knows this is it.

Now more than ever he sees that they had chosen the direction they would each take long before Africa. He knows they've been wandering along parallel but separate paths for some time. It has fooled them both. He thought that they were both wandering alone, and that if their paths would cross somehow, if they just tried hard enough, waited long enough, they would find each other again.

But as he's thought about it more and more over the last few days, he suspects she hasn't been completely alone on her journey. He's pretty certain of that in fact. He remembers how the writer had looked at him that day he visited the precinct. He had acted curious and slightly territorial. He also remembers how she speaks of him, frequently and with a thinly veiled intensity that reveals something deeper than simple work camaraderie.

The door swings open abruptly. She shifts uncertainly with one arm guardedly wrapped around her stomach.

"Hey. Come in."

She closes the door quietly and turns to face him. His eyes meet hers and she gives him a reflexive but subdued smile. There is the unmistakable shadow of worry in her eyes. He knows he should at least apologize for not calling her back for almost two days before the inevitable conversation about the end begins.

"Sorry I didn't get to talk with you the other night… or yesterday. Guess I've been pretty busy these last few days, huh?"

"Yeah. I've been going non-stop too," she says sitting on a barstool in the kitchen.

She's being truthful. Two stabbings in less than 72 hours. She closed both investigations easily, but her mind has been plagued with two other cases that are turning out to be the most challenging of her life. The first, a boyfriend who has been MIA despite numerous phone calls and texts, all unanswered until today. The second, also a case of avoidance. This time a partner who hasn't stepped foot in the precinct since she left him standing barefoot in the middle of his loft. Not that she expected to see him at work, but it still hurts each time she sits at her desk and he's not there. She knows he's giving her time and space, two things she has always thought she wanted from him until now.

Sleep has been evading her as well. The darkness under her eyes is indisputable evidence that the sandman has skipped her bed for the last several nights. But in a cruel twist of the universe, what little sleep she finds is filled with dreams. Although the details rapidly scatter out of reach with the buzz of her alarm, judging from how she awakens with a pillow clutched to her side in frustration and with an agreeable ache in her stomach, she knows her dreams are still made of him.

She has thought about everything to the point where nothing makes sense in her head anymore and, so, she is left with her heart. What her heart knows is that one of the men in her life is a certain loss. But the possibility of losing them both is so real that she can feel it squeezing her tightly. Each time she takes a breath, this fear is like some giant snake wrapped around her ribcage, constricting each time she exhales and making it nearly impossible to breathe.

She watches as he leans against the kitchen counter. The certain loss is staring her in the face now. She knows what must be said, but she hesitates nonetheless. Certainty doesn't make this any easier.

"We can't keep doing this. It's not right for either of us to feel this way," she says softly.

"Yea, I know," he replies with regret. "It hasn't felt right for awhile now."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

He focuses on the cursor- taunting him, mocking him with each flash. He hasn't seen or spoken to her in a little over a week and each second is killing him slowly. He can't write, can't think, can't sleep. Despite the fact that he feels like his heart is being slowly torn apart, he continues to try and convince himself that they made the right decision.

They. Odd that when he recalls their discussion after the unexpectedly short, but passionate, second kiss they shared, that he still thinks of it as a joint decision. The reality is that it had been mostly him saying the things which needed to be said. She was too hurt to put up much of a fight.

"I don't want to do this quick and dirty. You- WE deserve more. And I can't settle for less than all of you."

She had laughed even with the tears in her eyes. "What the hell do you want from me? I told you, I share things with you I've never shared, not with him, not with ANYONE. How much more of me do you want?"

He remembers how her voice had cracked, how her body had trembled. How he had wanted to hold her.

"I want that small part of you that still doubts, that runs, that's kept you with him. That part of you that's been unsure if you could seriously be with me."

He remembers seeing the light go on in her head, how her eyes had quickly shut, and despite her best efforts, how a few tears had still escaped. She had pinched the bridge of her nose, knowing that he was right. That there is still a part that doubts, that would have run had he allowed their physical enlightenment to continue.

She had gathered her jacket and come back to stand in front of him, searching his face.

He remembers how her eyes had never looked so green.

"Fine. I'm not saying you're right, but maybe we should take some time… to think."

He sees his reflection off the glossy laptop screen and closes his eyes. If he concentrates hard enough he can feel her lips as she kisses him on the cheek just before she had left. His heart breaks again as he feels her cheek, damp with tears, brushing against his. The memory steals his breath away even now.

His eyes pop open and he slams the laptop shut, snapping himself back to reality. He knows what a chance he has taken, probably the biggest of his life. With each day that's passed, the feeling that he may have lost her forever has grown like some horrible cancer inside him, slowly consuming any sense of normalcy in his life. Maybe it's as he's feared all along. She's decided he's too big of a risk, that he's not worth it.

He looks at the black screen of his phone sitting on the desk. He's surprised that he's made it this long without trying to call her, to tell her he's reconsidered, that he was stupid to question her affections. But he knows he can't force this. He can't start anything with her that's not based on truth. He's waited this long, hasn't he?

He paces a little in his office, staring at the books on his shelves, his life in fiction. He gravitates to Heat Wave, picking it off the shelf and flipping to the dedication. His fingers trace her initials. He remembers their earlier days and smiles at the memory of those first few cases. Her fuse had been much shorter then when it came to his antics. He knew from the beginning that his mere presence had put her on edge. His words had tested her patience; his mind had pushed her to think outside the box. But despite their rocky beginning, she had allowed him to keep coming back, case after case, day after day. Those days had grown into weeks, months and finally years by her side. They had truly become partners. He had earned her trust, and she his loyalty.

He places the book back in the shelf and pulls out the second installment in the tale of them. He forces himself to read this dedication too. His eyes focus on the last two words.

With gratitude.

He had wanted to say so much more because she had deserved more, had meant so much more. But their timing… it had been all wrong, thrown off by one too many ex-wives and robbery detectives. He wonders if their timing will ever be right, if the stars will ever align. He flips through the book, his experiences, emotions immortalized forever on the pages. The uncertain fate of the third book is enough to cause his eyes to sting.

He closes the cover quickly, desperation finally kicking in. Screw timing and ex-wives and characters in books that are a weak substitute for life. He can't take it any longer. If she's changed her mind, fine. But he won't accept this silence as her answer. He needs to hear her words, her version of the story for himself.

He runs his hands through his hair, grabbing his phone from the desk. He reaches the front door just as a soft knock comes from the other side. He takes a step back in surprise. The doorman normally calls up to let him know about deliveries… or visitors. He dismisses the momentary quickening of his heart rate, the wonderful surge of happiness and then panic that dances through his body and finally settles in his gut.

He takes a deep breath. No, it can't be. It would be too big of a coincidence.

He opens the door and exhales as he sees her standing on the threshold, a hopeful look in her eyes. A small smile appears on both their faces.

No, it's no coincidence. For once, it's perfect timing.


A/N: So, to continue or not? I had the next and final chapter planned, but now I'm not sure. Kind of liking it like this. I know it sorta feels like I'm leaving you hanging, but come on! You know I'm a Caskett shipper. :)

Maybe an epilogue… Anyway, this random stream of consciousness has been brought to you by ME! ;)

As always, thanks for your favorites, alerts and reviews. They mean so much. -KB