A/N: Thank you for your continued support. Seems there are quite a few Coltrane fans out there. These lyrics are for you...

"If I should write a book for you

That brought me fame and fortune too

That book would be like my heart and me

Dedicated to you."

- John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman, 'Dedicated To You'.

Chapter 6 – Danger: Under Construction

Previously...

"Kate, we have to get past this. We're being silly," he tells her, dropping his head to look at the floor when she pulls her hand out of his grasp and stalks off to the kitchen.

"You mean I'm being silly," she groans, when he catches up with her. "It's okay. You can say it. I'm ashamed of my behavior too."

She's leaning against the sink, staring at the wall. Castle is standing a foot or so behind her.

"There's no need to feel ashamed," he says, almost automatically, since that's his role in their relationship – that of patient placator.

"Really? How do you stand it?" Kate demands, her voice rising. "You said it yourself on the phone tonight. We're both single, Castle. We've been single for months and months. What are we waiting for? Hmm? What else is out there for us if not—?"

She growls in frustration at her own inability to just spit out what she wants to say, and slaps her hand down on the edge of the sink.

Mere seconds later she feels the warmth of Castle at her back, trapping her against the cold porcelain of the large Belfast sink. The breadth of his chest presses into her shoulders, the weight when his hands land on her arms, the tingle in her scalp when her nudges his nose into her hair, she feels it all.

"I fed you dinner, Kate," he says quietly, reasonably, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. "Now why don't you tell me what's out there for us, if not each other?"

Castle lets Kate go. He lets his hands skate lightly down her arms until they reach her elbows and then he lets go completely, quietly backing away from her, giving her the space he thinks she needs.

He stands still behind her for several seconds, letting silence and its sometimes magical properties do a little of the heavy lifting for once.

And for once, silence doesn't disappoint.

"Can we talk?" she asks solemnly, her head bowed over the sink, arms stretched wide as she holds herself up by leaning against the broad porcelain edge.

"I'm here, Kate. Ready when you are," he assures her, waiting and watching as she briefly turns to glance over her shoulder at him and then looks away again, off to one side this time.

"Did you bring dessert in that magic takeout bag of yours?" she asks, leaning into the sink and then pushing off to flip round and look at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I may have secreted some ice cream in your refrigerator when you weren't looking," he admits, looking over at the appliance.

"Flavor?" demands Kate, quirking one eyebrow.

"If you have to ask me what flavor I brought I might as well turn around and walk out of here right now," he replies, only half-joking.

"You brought the chocolate peanut butter?" Kate guesses, her lips curling into a tentative smile.

"And?" pushes Castle.

"Not the…"

"Mmm-hmm. Toasted coconut," he nods, face breaking into a smile when he sees her do the same.

"How did you—?"

"What? Remember my muse's favorite ice cream flavors?"

Kate nods.

Castle's expression takes on a sincere, almost earnest look. "The only parts of you that I don't know, Kate, are the parts you've chosen to keep hidden."

Kate's cheeks flush when he says this, and she claws at her lip with her teeth, stuffing her hands into her jeans' pockets since she doesn't know what else to do with them. "And the rest of me is an open book?" she asks, raising her eyes to look at him.

"No, of course not. That's—no, not what I was saying at all."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I think you're open with the few lucky people you trust. People you've maybe come to realize care about you."

"And you consider yourself one of those people?"

"I consider myself lucky to be in your life at all, Kate. That's how…how important you are to me."

"You're important to me too," she admits, scuffing the wooden floor with the toe of her shoe.

"And if you're ever in any doubt about my—" Castle stops speaking and drops his head.

"What? Say it. Please?" she pleads, needing him to guide them both through this mire of emotional entanglement, because she's been doing such an angry, rank-rotten job so far.

"If you ever doubt how much I care or how special I think you are, ponder this. How many women do you think get books written about them, or at least have characters based on them? And how many have dedications in those novels, made out to them for all the world to see?"

"I know that, I do," she sighs, twisting her fingers awkwardly together. "But…"

"If you can't see that I care about you, Kate, you might be the only one left how knows us both and still doesn't get it."

Her heart is hammering. Dr. Burke's calm words of advice and encouragement are ringing in her ears.

"Why am I having such a hard time with this?" she asks, her voice giving away her frustration with herself.

"You're asking me?" laughs Castle, unsure if her question is rhetorical or not. "Because to be honest I've been wondering the exact same thing."

Kate covers her face with her hands and mumbles from behind them. "God, I am just terrible at this."

Castle immediately comes over to stand right in front of her, and then he reaches for her hands and gently prizes her fingers away.

"Why do you put up with me?" she asks, looking up into his face, searching his eyes with about as much honesty as he's ever seen from her.

"Why do you put up with me?" he lobs right back, shrugging and raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, fair point," Kate laughs weakly, smacking him lightly on the chest, before letting her head drop forward. She tips into him so that her crown is resting against his breastbone.

Castle places one hand high and flat on the center of her back and rubs the other in soothing circles closer to the base of her spine, while Kate wraps her arms loosely around his waist.

"If you want to, Kate, we can figure this out. But if you're not ready or if you don't want this, then all you have to do is tell me."

The low rumble of Castle's voice vibrates through the top of her head sending tiny vibrations down her spine. She pulls away from him instantly, straightening up to look up at him sharply. "So much for open book," she snaps, fear and insecurity morphing into misplaced anger.

She's not being fair. Worse - she knows she's not being fair. She's expecting him to read what's been going on inside her head even when she herself is a mess of indecision a lot of the time. She pushes herself away from him with her hands on his body and then turns towards the refrigerator trying to force the warm, firm feel of him out of her mind.

"Bowls or spoons?" she asks with her back turned, opening the freezer compartment door and hauling out the two tubs of ice cream.

"Better make it both. Mood you're in, I don't fancy my chances if we share an open tub," he replies with typical dry humor.

Castle is trying so hard tonight, allowing her to behave like a frightened, neurotic mess. A mess that keeps throwing herself at him and then withdrawing as if she's been burned.

"Bowls are on the—"

"Top shelf. Yeah, I got it," replies Castle, already stretching to lift down two pale green, crackle-glazed dishes.

Kate shakes her head, but doesn't comment. She wonders how much poking around her apartment he actually managed to do while she was in the bedroom getting changed.

"Single scoop, double scoop, one flavor or— Ouch!" yelps Castle, when Kate raps the back of his knuckles with the stainless steel ice cream scoop and hip checks him out of the way.

"I think I can manage to put some ice cream in a bowl," she tells him, giving him a withering look.

The talking they've been doing so far - this awkward, stilted, fractured discussion, always teetering on the edge of serious, terrifying honesty – it has unnerved her. She needs to feel more in control again if they are to have a hope of taking the conversation any further, so she reasons that reclaiming her own kitchen might be a good first step.

"Is there any wine left?" she asks Castle, hoping to send him away to top up their glasses so that she can get a few seconds breathing space just to calm herself down and regroup a little.

"I think we already drained the bottle."

"Oh," murmurs Kate, scraping the ice cream tool over the surface of the tub again and again until it forms into a nice curl and then a recognizable snowball.

"But I did bring a cheeky little bottle of Vin Santo with me," he tells her, with a low, secretive sing-song to his voice.

Kate laughs and gives him a quick sideways glance. "Just how deep are your pockets?" she asks, with an amused frown.

"Are you asking for my financials, Detective?" teases Castle.

"Pfff," scoffs Kate, shaking her head. "As if. No, I just don't know how you managed to smuggle all this stuff in here tonight."

"Where there's a will—"

"There's a pea coat with extra deep pockets," laughs Kate.

Finally there's enough ice cream in the bowls for both of them and no further reason to dally in the kitchen.

"Take these," says Castle, handing Kate two dainty glasses of dessert wine. "I'll bring the bowls and spoons."

Kate flashes back to their endeavors today to get themselves out of the trap they'd landed up in; how they'd cooperated at every turn to stay alive, working as a team to look for a way out. They make an amazing team when she gets out of her own way.

Her ruminating abruptly halts when they enter the open living area and the choices become – settle down on the sofa or stick with the more formal setting of the dining table.

"I—you choose," shrugs Kate, leaving the decision up to Castle.

"Where will you be more comfortable?" he asks, putting her needs before his own as usual.

"Castle, I'm not sure there's really any comfortable place to be doing this," she admits, with complete honesty. An honesty that pains him.

"Sofa it is then," he says, trying to keep his spirits up and not feel hurt by her reluctance to open up and embrace this opportunity, not to feel discouraged by her continued reserve.

Kate trails him to her grey sofa and settles a respectable distance away from him. They place their drinks and ice cream on the coffee table and pause for just a second.

"What am I to you?" Castle asks suddenly, tilting his head to look at her.

Kate leans forward to reach for her bowl. "Ice cream's gonna melt," she says quietly, avoiding answering his question.

"Is it really that hard to—"

"Castle, we work together," she throws out there, cutting across him.

"What? Kate, that is a BS excuse and you know it," he fires back immediately, letting his spoon clatter against the side of the bowl.

"Sorry," murmurs Kate, contritely, because she knows he's right.

"Why is this so hard for you?"

"What?"

"You know what. Kate you send out mixed signals all the time. Some days you look at me and—God, I could swear you feel the same. Other times, like now for instance, it's as if you'd rather talk about the goddam weather than confront reality."

"And just what is that reality, Rick?" she challenges, fire flashing in her eyes now that he's getting so close to cornering her, guilt seeping out of her very pores.

"No," he replies, shaking his head. "No, I am not going to talk you round or persuade you into this, Kate. You have to want it too. You just said we work together. Well, if you think that's a genuine obstacle, I can terminate that arrangement as easily as it began. Just say the word."

"Finally had enough?" she snaps, failing to hide her fear, when it rises to the surface at the thought of losing her partner.

"Don't insult me. I'd sacrifice being your partner, much as I love working with you and don't want to think about anyone taking my place. But I'd do it in a heartbeat if it meant a chance to have this instead."

"This?"

"Time on our own away from work. A shot at a relationship instead of—"

He shrugs and runs a hand through his hair, admitting with a sigh and a rough edge to his voice, "I don't know what we are anymore."

Kate looks down at her bowl of melting ice cream and she paws at the chocolate and creamy colored mush with her spoon. "Neither do I," she admits quietly, her voice and demeanor finally softening with the slump of her shoulders, thought she sounds far sadder than Castle would like.

"So then let's figure it out. I'm not the enemy here, Kate."

"I know," she insists, looking at him in panic, hoping that isn't how he believes she thinks of him.

"Then stop fighting me and work with me to figure out a way we can both get what we want. But first, eat," he tells her, gesturing to their desserts.

Their spoons clink against china and Coltrane transitions seamlessly into Miles Davis, the familiar strains of 'So What' mocking Castle in his current, restless, anxious state of mind.

"I used to believe that loving someone was enough."

Kate is the one who confides this, her voice calm and strong, though her gaze is directed towards the floor. Castle freezes, a cold blob of ice cream sliding down his throat. He sets his near empty bowl and spoon aside and lifts the two glasses of Vin Santo off the table, offering one to Kate in exchange for her empty bowl.

He sits back against the sofa cushions, leaning into their comfortable softness and then he crosses one leg over the other, resting his ankle over his knee.

"But you don't anymore?" he prompts, hoping she will elaborate on this unexpected conversation starter.

Castle waits patiently, watching Kate stare into the glass of fragrant, sweet, amber-colored dessert wine as if she doesn't know what to do with it.

She doesn't look up from her glass when she answers him. "I think it takes a lot more than love to sustain a relationship."

They might be talking around the core issue, but it's a start. Castle attempts to build on the foundation Kate has just laid for him.

"I agree. Certainly couldn't argue with that."

Kate looks at him abruptly, her interest drawn by the uncharacteristic bitterness in his voice. A bitterness left there by his previous experiences with ex-wives and other women, she supposes. She wonders if she's adding to that bitterness with her own frustrating, unfathomable behavior.

"I value what we have. Against so many different odds, we've managed to build a strong friendship, Castle, a trust that—"

She breaks off, running her fingertip around the rim of the glass before taking a quick sip. "I can't lose that. I don't want to lose that," she stresses, hazarding another glance at his face; a face so kindly and intense that it breaks her heart not to be able to give in to him here and now.

"So…you'd rather keep things as they are? Maybe look at what else is out there for you relationship wise rather than take a chance on finding something special...right here?" he asks, gesturing between the two of them, trying to sound reasonable and measured when inside his heart feels as heavy and cold as a stone. "Is that it? Have I got that right?"

Kate leans forward, dropping her forehead onto her hand. Before she can summons words to answer him, Castle is speaking again and his voice rises, as if in anger.

"Were you even in that room with me today? Because I could have sworn you were, Kate. There was this sexy, kickass, female detective who sure looked a lot like you. And you know what? That woman…she wasn't scared to take a risk."

Kate's head jerks up, a shocked look on her face, never having seen Castle speak to her this way before.

"I'm not going to pretend anymore that I don't see the effect I have on you, Kate. And the feeling's mutual, in case you were wondering. Call me arrogant, call me conceited, hey, call me a liar if you want. I don't care. Because I know what I feel and I know what I see...what there is between us."

Kate looks away. "You think you're so smart," she mutters, downing another mouthful of sweet wine.

"Don't need to be a brain surgeon…or a cardiac surgeon for that matter," he adds, regretting the sarcastic jab at Josh as soon as it's out of his mouth. "It's there in your eyes, Kate, when you think I can't see you watching me. You need to stop kidding yourself that this connection we have means nothing. Remember that day at the bank, after the bomb went off? You were terrified. Your voice…Kate, you assumed the worst. You were terrified and I'm pretty sure I know why. You feel it too."

When Kate slaps him, the sound is as startling as the effect it has on both of them.

"Please, just stop talking," she pleads, burying her face in her hands.

Castle quietly puts his glass down and stands.

"I think we've both had a really long, stressful day. So, I'm gonna go now, before either of us says or does something there'll be no coming back from."

Kate sits rooted to the spot, the palm of her hand still tingling from when it connected with Castle's cheek. She's in turmoil, only vaguely aware of the writer collecting his coat from the back of a chair, shrugging it on as he walks to the door, leaving only leftovers, a half-drained glass and an open bottle of dessert wine in his wake.

That, and his devastated partner.

TBC...

Oh dear! Promise to fix it soon. Hope I didn't ruin anyone's weekend. :)