Get down?!

He frowned at her as he rushed to her, and squatted in front of her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe, eyes widening in concern when they landed on her bloody hand, "Kate, your hand."

"Shhhh, Castle. Please, don't make a sound," she whispered with frantic eyes, drops of sweat coating her forehead and sticking her hair against it. "They'll find us. You need to stay quiet," she added looking at him sternly just before stretching her neck to observe the room.

What the Hell?!

"Alright, okay. If you want to freak me out, you've succeeded," he laughed nervously. "I've learnt my lesson, I won't bother you again, promise," he added, taking her in, and he wasn't so sure she was acting anymore, the way her whole body shook, the tremor in her voice when she talked, that wild look in her eyes. Something was very wrong.

"You think this is a game?" He heard her hiss, and she forcefully pushed him away with two hands flat against his chest, making him tumble back.

"Woah, okay, look-"

Another loud roll of thunder crashed in the air and her entire frame jumped as she raised her knees against her chest and hid her head in them, shoulders hunching around her ears.

"Make it stop," she whimpered.

He didn't know what to do or what was going on, but he needed to act and quick. The blood was leaking out of her wound faster now and he couldn't have any more of this.

"Okay, Kate? Listen to me," he started, but she didn't make any sign of acknowledgement whatsoever. "You're totally safe, I promise you. This is just a storm and it's already fading away," another rumble of thunder, quieter this time cut him as if proving his point but still, her body shivered. He reached out slowly, laying a careful hand on her shoulder, hoping to soothe her, somehow.

"You need to go," he heard, her voice muffled, and he could feel her tense under his hand.

"Yeah, see? I don't think that's happening," he laughed humorlessly. " But here's what will happen, first we are going to take care of your hand, and you're going to sit on the couch while I finish lunch and then, you're going to tell me what the fuck just happened."

Shrugging his hand off, Kate raised her head, he eyes shooting him a cold and stern look as she rushed to her feet. "Who do you think you are?" She snapped as he stood in front of her defiantly, his look a copy of her own and his body tense, muscles of his arms and chest straining under the fabric of his shirt.

"Someone who is trying to help, ever since that night on the lake," his voice is rough, accusatory even but she doesn't look impressed in the least.

"It's none of your business, I didn't ask for your help."

Watching her intently, he nodded as he passed by her, and headed to her bathroom leaving her staring at the wall. He opened the medicine cabinet above the sink and scanned with his eyes through the items, settling on some gauze, thick adhesive tape and antiseptics. When he returned to the kitchen, she had turned to face him, her arms crossed against her chest and her eyes furious, that, under different circumstances would have make him run away. But nonetheless, he didn't ask for her permission when he took one of her arms and stretched it out as he put down what he had brought down on the counter next to them. She stared at him, her jaw tense, but didn't take back her arm when he softly cleaned her wound making her stifle a hiss as he mumbled an apology.

"You don't have to tell me," he said as he covered her wound with a thick piece of gauze, his eyes looking up from her hand, gauging her.

Jaw working, she met his serious eyes, the deep blue of them pulling her in so strongly she struggled to tear her gaze away, "No, I don't."

Fixing the gauze to her palm with adhesive tapes, his fingers smoothly stroked the last strips to her skin repeatedly, the movement slow as their eyes locked and the air turned heavy and thick.

She finally was the one to tug her hand away from his, and walked away toward the couch, sat cross-legged as she watched him check lunch wasn't ruined and took over; cutting what was left of the vegetables, putting the boiling pastas away from the fire, and warming a can of tomato sauce instead. Neither of them talked, each one simply getting lost in their own thoughts.

It shouldn't have happened. That was exactly why she had refused to let him get any closer to her in the first place. The attacks had started right after she had left the hospital, every noise, every look, every movement had started making her startle and panic, or worse until she had cloistered herself in her apartment, had closed shut every windows and had sat, her back to the front door, listening to every single noise she could hear outside. She had lost sleep, got drunk each time an attack surged to make the illusion go away, she had accidently hurt herself more than once to the point she actually had believed she had become paranoid.

She couldn't get out because she felt as if she was a constant target, she had shut out everyone else fearing she would get them killed until one night, her father had called making sure she wasn't dead, his voice would always quiver as he pleaded her to let someone -anyone- in, to let someone help her. She had refused to listen to him and had decided to retreat somewhere she was sure she would be alone asking him not to come.

She raised her head to look at the man managing his way in the kitchen, and then back at her gauze-covered hand, apparently she had been wrong. She knew Castle meant well, but nothing good would come out of it, he would get attached, hell, she would get attached and she just couldn't let that happen. She couldn't allow him to be anything to her, that would put him in danger, if not the both of them.

She didn't need distraction and she'd seen how he looked at her; the interest shining in his eyes, his constant concern for her, she didn't get why and yet, she was inexplicably drawn to him. She easily found solace in the deep blue of his irises, her skin came to life and tingled every time he would touch her, her chest seemed tighter and the air heavier every time he would come too close, her heart hammering every time he laid his eyes on her. It shouldn't be that way, she knew nothing of the man and she was scared that if he kept showing up she wouldn't be able to keep her walls up. She had for so long, either only seeking physical release as a way to forget and just feel in the earlier years after her mother's death or hiding in relationship with men she didn't truly love. She had almost never allowed herself to think of a forever with any of them and the only time she had, she had been let down. A few years ago, she would have easily been able to shut him out but now, she didn't have any fight left in her and her defenses were crashing down. He had to stay away because if he didn't, she wasn't sure she'd be able to save him from herself.

Seeing him coming over her with two plates in his hands, she lowered her head hoping he hadn't caught her red-handed creepily staring at him. He slowly sat next to her, handing her one plate as he got comfortable with his own, keeping his focus elsewhere than on her, giving her space. She muttered her thanks, picking up her fork to twirl it in her stark red pastas. She felt him gaze at her in the corner of her eyes without any doubt staring at her fork she had been twirling for at least two good minutes. She let out a sigh, her teeth nagging at her lip.

"I work with the NYPD," she said finally, deciding to give him something, "Homicide. Long story short, it was a really bad day, something came up and my Captain was shot," her voice broke when a lump moved up her throat, her eyes veiled by stubborn tears as he set his plate on the coffee table, took hers to do the same, and sat slightly closer to her, his whole body facing her. He didn't say anything, he just watched her carefully with a deep crease in between his eyes. "I-uh. I was giving a speech in his honor and next thing I know, I'm falling to the ground, people are screaming and so- so much noise," she frowned at her own memory trying to keep the tears from dropping as a hand came unconsciously to her chest, hovering over the still healing scar.

"Kate," his voice made her turn her head to him, a single, lone tear falling out of each eye, drawing two wet paths from her cheekbone to her neck. It broke his heart to see how hard she tried for him, he could see her inner battle, the emotions swirling in her now deep green eyes and it took him everything not to pull her into him, protecting her from her own memories.

"Ever since I got shot, my mind gets overactive. There is nowhere I feel safe, and I'm constantly expecting them to find me," she blinked back some tears, her eyes settling on her legs, "That's what happened today, and that night on the lake." Taking a deep breath, she drew her eyes back to him, swallowing around her tight throat, "This is my fight. I need to get out of it on my own," he opened his mouth to protest, the crease between his eyes deepening but she didn't let him, "Those people, they're dangerous, it's bigger than you think, and I don't want you to be part of this in any kind of way, hear me ?"

He shook his head, dismissing everything that she was saying and froze as soon as her hand came to close around one of his as she slumped forward, her eyes pleading and praying him to understand, "You need to let this go. I'm not good news; you have to believe me, please."

What did she mean, let this go? Let her go? There was no way he could. Ever since that first night he had fell upon her, he had become obsessed about getting to know her. He couldn't help it, he felt drawn, pulled. Sure, she was gorgeous, but it wasn't what had first made him come back. He had wanted to know her story, why had she been so scared when he had approached her, why she had kept telling him to leave her alone even when she knew who he was. Even though she had just explained to him what happened, he wasn't convinced that was all it had been, something was missing. Why did she think they would come back? Why had she been shot at a funeral? Why was she even a Detective? He couldn't make sense of anything, some piece was missing.

Once thing he did know, he wouldn't leave her alone. She was telling him to and yet, everything else told him not to. She needed a shoulder to lean onto, she needed a friend, and he needed to unfold the mystery that she was, no matter what she thought, he couldn't just leave now.

He considered her, stared at her hand squeezing so tightly her knuckles had turned white, her desperation to make him back off only reinforcing what he already knew, "I was part of this the moment I laid my eyes on you" he said resolutely, making his point as he tried to maintain her eyes to him, "Whatever this is, I'm in," he saw her ducking her head, hair falling down around her face as she took her hand back and slid further back on the couch, the farthest from him she could.

"Why are you doing this?" He swallowed hard at her muffled voice, she looked so small, he couldn't make sense of her, but he would. "You have a daughter!" she more or less shouted her voice cracking as she raised her head, tears running free and fuck.

What his daughter had to do with any of this at all, he had no idea, but he slowly nodded nonetheless, "And because I have a daughter, I know if she was to be in your situation, I would want her to have someone."

She didn't respond.