A/N-I'd like to thank my friend Maggie, for being the inspiration for a side character in this chapter. Wherever you are, you are missed.

Again, thanks to all readers out there for playing along—JQK.

Consequences

(Post Season 2 What If AU)

Chapter 7

Castle succeeds in keeping Kate around, and she is not at all unhappy about that. They spend the day together (he still hasn't written a line) and that night he sleeps in her bed next to her.

The next few days go by like a dream. Few relationships in Beckett's life have begun with a honeymoon period such as this. Usually when she begins seeing someone, everything happens in the context of daily life.

Her time in the Hamptons with Castle is so far removed it is almost otherworldly. They seldom venture beyond his property over the next four days. He takes residence in her room (she pushes things in that direction and he doesn't argue), and they spend each night together without having to discuss their plans.

All along they've been shoving the question, What happens next? down the line, a troublesome reality that they both know will enter the picture, but neither wants to face.

The end of her vacation looms over her head now that she has less than one week left of her two week vacation. The bike is scheduled for delivery the next day, and that token of freedom portends the inevitable departure that must follow.

Kate ignores these thoughts during the hours when they're awake together. It is easy to forget the complications of the world when she is with him. Out here, there is no need to fight the distractions he provides. Late at night when the soft snore in his chest rumbles against her back, the questions thunder. The desire to ask him if he wants more from this is permanently perched on the tip of her tongue.

This morning starts as most of their mornings have lately, the pair waking in each other's arms.

Castle is making omelets when the doorbell rings, and he shouts to Kate as she comes down the stairs, "Can you get that?"

Kate tightens his robe around her (she claimed a particularly cozy one for herself a few days ago), and goes to the door. For a moment she pauses before she swings it open, hoping to hell it isn't an ex-wife or (oh god) Martha.

Martha wouldn't ring the doorbell, right?

A deliveryman stands before her with flowers, and she chuckles, assuming they're from Castle and that he had them sent to her so he could make a romantic gesture without leaving the house. The young man places the enormous bunch in her arms. The bouquet is filled with bright colors from wide open blossoms and verdant greenery. It's probably the largest bouquet she's ever seen.

Then he hands her a large envelope made of heavy card stock, surprisingly weighty for a letter. On the front, in calligraphy, are the words, "Rick & Katie."

In a moment of confusion, Beckett wonders who in the hell 'Rick & Katie' are, and nearly tells the guy he has the wrong address. It takes a second to dawn on her.

Carrying everything to the kitchen, she drops the flowers on the table and holds up the envelope. "Rick and Katie?" he asks. "Sounds like the hottest couple at the high school dance."

"The only person who is allowed to call me 'Katie' is my Dad," she states, emphatically for the record.

"Open it."

She pauses. "You don't think this is some kind of sick joke, do you?"

"What kind of sick joke?"

"I don't know. Someone I've arrested. Someone who wants revenge."

"Might be fun."

"Might be anthrax."

He shrugs off the concern. "I don't think you have a lot of enemies in the Hamptons. Besides, who even knows you're here?"

"Gina?"

"Trust me, she doesn't care enough about anything to plot a sick joke and follow through with it," he lightly replies.

She sighs and carefully peels the envelope. Curiosity winning out, Castle drops his spatula and pilfers the note from inside before she can read it. Within is an invitation to a party. "Oh," Castle explains, "the couple you met at the picnic…the ones we had dinner with? Ciara and Adam?"

"Oh yea. That woman, the one with the Irish accent, and her husband. I like them."

"Little known fact…not really her husband. They are notably unmarried. Been together almost thirty years, since they were in their teens. Have a couple of kids, romance novel levels of devotion. Just never tied the knot officially."

"Okay. So the Irish woman and her boyfriend? Why are they sending us flowers?"

"They're having an engagement party today. Guess they finally decided to take the plunge."

"Are you going to go?"

He stares suspiciously. "Am I going to go? The invitation was for both of us."

"They're your friends."

"Ciara really liked you, invited you to dinner this weekend, if I remember correctly. They must have been planning this party already. And you said you'd come if you were still in town."

"Wait a minute…" she grins a bit triumphantly, "weren't you the one who couldn't stand to let me walk down the street? This is a whole party, probably hours spent out of the house. Think we can keep our clothes on that long?"

He flips the invitation over, scouring it for information. Finally satisfied, he hands it to her and says, "This doesn't say anything about clothing being required."

She pokes his chest in retribution before she takes the note.

He leans on the counter near her and says, "Just between the two of us?" He pauses until she nods. "My back is killing me. A few hours wearing clothes and remaining upright may not be a bad thing."

"Aww…did I break you?" she gently plays.

"A little. Just enough," he grins.

"That's okay, I pulled my hip flexor and my shoulder is bunched up," she says as she rubs it.

"Your shoulder?"

"Sex with you is a full contact sport," she whispers in praise. She grabs his hips, moving him into place, and turns him to face the counter. Her hands slide up over his lats to encourage him to lean a bit, and she massages the muscles down his back.

"You want to go?" she asks.

"Yea. Come with me." He sighs, she can see the tightness releasing a bit. "Is there anything you aren't good at?" he asks.

"Unfortunately, yes."

They arrive at the party, dressed for the occasion. Kate borrowed another dress from Jackie 'the fixer,' and Rick still can't seem to stop admiring her. They walk around the home that Ciara and Adam share to the back yard, and find suspiciously white decorations with a sign in glistening silver, "Welcome to our Wedding."

It's a surprise wedding, the kind couples throw when they want to avoid tradition, months of planning, and arguments over where everyone will be seated. Of course if they attempted to avoid planning and great effort, someone failed. The gathering is beautiful, with champagne in glasses (not plastic), decorated torches around the perimeter, lacy white embellishments, and delectable bites of food on tables presented by servers dressed in all black. There is warmth and family found in this celebration, with pictures from the happy couple's lives together, many with their children, on posters around the yard. And the fancy decorations stand proudly next to balloons, streamers, and hand drawn decorations made by kids.

Suddenly this little outing feels a little more serious, and the pair find themselves on a date at a wedding. Rick pulls Kate aside before they go too far into the yard, and he says, "Is this okay?"

"We're already here."

"Yea but..."

"If you want to leave, that's fine."

He replies, "If you're okay with it, so am I."

"Katie!" Ciara enthusiastically croons, greeting Beckett with a half hug and a polite kiss on the cheek. She's wearing a beautiful white dress. It's elegant, but surprisingly simple, especially given the location. "I'm so glad you came." She talks to Beckett like they're old friends, then turns to Rick. After kissing him on the cheek, she whispers, "Managed to keep her around I see."

"Looks like," he whispers back. "So what's going on? I thought you were staunchly anti-wedded bliss."

"It's a formality," she explains, waving it off. "Why make everyone sit around some stodgy old wedding for a couple who've already shared a lifetime. You know Adam though, such a romantic, no matter how he tries to hide it. The JP wasn't enough for him. So we compromised. We'll exchange a vow or two and have a party."

"That's my kind of wedding."

"Look, in just a second we'll get the formal bits out of the way. Then we'll have some fun." She leans toward Castle and adds quietly, "I'll find you afterwards and help you figure out how to reel this one in," like Kate isn't privy to the entire conversation.

Kate and Rick both fluster slightly, but Ciara insists one more time, "Third wife's the charm, Rick!" giggling as she hurries off.

"Comments like that aren't helpful," he shouts after her. "About that…" he whispers to Kate, "I don't think she gets this. What this is."

"How can we expect her to know when we don't even know," Kate teases, but there's a hefty truth behind her joke.

Music from the front of the yard near the seating area captures everyone's attention, and the crowd takes their seats. Concentric rows surround the laced trellis where the marrying couple steps into place.

Rick has become somewhat accustomed to taking off her clothes, kissing her, touching her, but as he reaches out to take her hand, he feels notably nervous. But she grasps his extended fingers (without so much as a muttered comment beneath her breath or an eye roll). Her fingers weave between his, and she gives him that smile, the one that could convince him of absolutely anything. She leads to a seat, and he follows.

Rick is tempted to sneak a picture of her like this, hard-as-nails Beckett, indulging in silly romantic gestures at wedding of all places. Also, she looks so stunning he doesn't want to forget.

Once they're seated, she still keeps his hand for a few moments. The breeze prevents the day from feeling oppressive, but the heat between their hands makes them sweat. He lets go first, putting his arm around her, resting it on the back of her chair.

The ceremony is brief, a quick exchange of promises between two people who have already been practicing devoted behavior for decades. Ciara's insistence that this ceremony is being done for Adam's benefit is called into question as her voice trembles while she recites her vows.

No one throws a bouquet (Beckett has caught one before anyway). There is no official presentation of the couple or any of those typical rituals, but there is genuine celebration, a raucous party the moment the ceremony is through. This family knows how to share a good time.

As Rick sees the couple's children (and even a few grandchildren) he ponders the fact that by waiting to officially marry, there are those present who wouldn't have even existed when the couple first could have made things legal. All of these people on this well-branched family tree are not only celebrating, but they're part of the couple's story.

He's a romantic, very much so, appreciating the beauty of a relationship that has probably weathered some serious storms over the years, and they've managed to not only stay afloat, but are still moving forward.

Adam and Ciara are, simply put, still very much in love, even after a lifetime, after fights and struggles, disagreements over money or in-laws. They've probably had late nights with crying infants, fights with rebelling teenagers, and even withstood the metamorphosis parents must endure when their children have grown. They've likely survived threats from outside the marriage (both are, and always have been, very attractive people), so Rick's certain their devotion has nothing to do with lack of opportunity outside of their relationship.

He wants that. All of it.

Castle considers the dessert table before him while Kate goes to grab drinks. It seems like he's giving the whole thing very careful thought as there are four cupcake options, but really he's busy thinking about what he's going to do when her bike arrives the next day. He still hasn't asked her to stay with him until the very last minute before she needs to return to work, although that's what he wants.

His thoughts are forced to leave both Beckett and dessert when someone takes his arm and sighs. "She's just lovely, Rick."

"Who?" he instinctively asks.

"You know well who," Ciara answers as she nods toward the area set as a dance floor.

Rick looks in the suggested direction, and sees Beckett there, somehow caught up in a tiny swarm of kids, all loudly giggling and wildly twirling. Kate can handle a shootout, barely breaking a sweat, but these kids make her look overcome. She looks thoroughly uncomfortable, hands folded nervously in front of her, as she's in the middle of this adorable chaos.

It doesn't take long for the kids to find a new distraction, running off the floor to play at some other game.

Kate appears relieved until a toddler, two at the most, fists the skirt of her dress and tugs. She looks down, and the boy reaches his little hands up toward her, wanting to be lifted. She surveys the area, probably looking for a parent or someone else to direct the child to. He is not dissuaded, continuing to demand that she pick him up.

Finally she stoops down and balances on her haunches, whispering something to the child. He reaches for her still, very insistently, and wraps his arms around her neck. She stands carefully, and Castle sees the way the boy wins her over so effortlessly. The child is on her hip, and whatever he says makes Kate smile. Her hand, so uncertainly, finds its way to the child's back, and she has no choice but to return the hug, softly patting him. The child rests his head on Kate's shoulder, likely tired from trying to keep up with the activities of the older children he'd been tailing. Almost immediately, he begins to fall asleep.

"Your ovaries exploding, dear boy?" Ciara teases.

"What?" Rick chuckles awkwardly as he realizes he's been staring. He wishes his response had sounded more confident.

"Oh, come on. You've been a wonderful mother all on your own. This time you'd have help. I can picture you with a few more. Imagine what gorgeous little babies the two of you would make!" Ciara all too loudly announces.

"Shh," he harshly counters, hoping Beckett doesn't hear any such suggestion. "Definitely not helpful."

"Why not? I've seen you together. I saw you at that fundraiser, looking awfully cozy if I must spell it out, but in a week's time things have definitely…intensified," Ciara's eyes flash wickedly.

Normally he loves conversations with this woman (when they're talking about other people) but right now he just wants to make sure she doesn't say anything Beckett can overhear (or worse, say something to her directly).

"I think you're reading way too much into this," he deflects as calmly as he can.

"You've got it bad for her. I can tell. And she for you, in case you're wondering."

"You think?" he asks curiously, then waves his hand to disregard her suggestion. "It's not like that."

"Ah," she nods her disbelief. "Of course not. Silly me. What is it then?"

"It's…it's…casual."

"Oh yea. Obviously. 'Casual' like a Brioni suit," Ciara snarks back.

He smoothly replies, "I'm happy for you and Adam. I've always admired your relationship. But you've found something pretty rare. I've tried marriage, twice as you made a point of reminding her earlier, and—"

"Psssh. You never looked at anyone how you look at her. Not even your wives."

"The situation is complicated."

"They all are."

"And we're operating under the 'if it's not broken don't fix it' principle."

"You're a lousy liar," the bride says sweetly. "If it's not operating at full potential, it is broken, right? If your car will only go at a sputter, you take it to the mechanic."

"Yea, well, my car doesn't sputter," he counters a bit defensively, making the woman reply with a knowing wink.

They watch as Adam approaches Kate, and says something that makes her laugh. She points to the boy in her embrace, then her hand gestures in question as she tries to decide what to do. The boy is now sleeping on her shoulder in spite of the music, conversation, and laughter all around. The groom takes her to the child's parents. The father takes his son, and the boy wakes enough to wave as he's carried away.

The part that stays with Castle is the way she gives the toddler a sweet little goodbye wave in return.

Adam holds out a hand to offer to dance, and Kate accepts. Adam is a fabulous dancer, and Kate seems momentarily surprised when he manages to spin her right into his arms.

"He couldn't even pull off a simple box step without trouncing on my toes when I met him. Look at the dirty old bastard now," Ciara teases, "pawing up your girl hours after we share vows. I knew it was all downhill after the I-do's."

While Castle watches, wishing he'd kept tally of Beckett's smiles these last few days, he says to Ciara, "I really am happy for both of you."

"Thank you, love. And I…am happy for you."

As if on cue (like maybe she knows way too much about all of these thoughts in his head…a truly terrifying thought), Kate seeks Castle as she dances, her eyes finding his with spirited warmth over Adam's shoulder.

Ciara notices (even people drilling into ancient ice in Antarctica at that very moment probably felt the heat) and she nods, "Oh, you're right. That woman's obviously not at all interested in the likes of you," with such sarcasm he would normally be proud. "The sex must be phenomenal," she notes at a whisper, never one to be shy…or appropriate.

"I'm offended," he feigns, but turns, brow lifted high, nods, and mouths the word, 'extraordinary' as his friend smiles approvingly.

Kate is asked a question, something that takes her by surprise, and she doesn't answer until she spins around so her back is to Castle. He's not that good at reading lips, but he'd at least like the chance to try, even if it means wildly misinterpreting her.

Ciara is called over by her grown children as they prepare to take a picture. Before leaving to return to her celebration, she slaps Castle's cheek, a maternal tap, but hard enough to provoke color. It isn't even the first time she's done this to him (or to others).

What is it about her charisma that allows her to smack people around without ever having charges filed? Maybe she's friends with a local political official?

"Listen here," Ciara orders. "Don't fuck this up, u'kay? And don't let her fuck it up either. You're a smart boy. Figure it out. You'll regret it if you don't."

Then she kisses his slapped-pink face and hurries off.

Adam, too, is needed, called upon for the same picture. He dances Kate over towards Castle and says, "Care to cut in?"

Castle immediately steps up and takes her in his arms as Adam leaves to join his new wife.

"I think your friends are trying to play matchmaker," Kate says, gazing at Castle before her focus finds the top of his shoulder. "Adam was talking you up. And Ciara?"

"Maybe she was hitting on me, ever stop to think that?"

Kate pauses, displaying her disbelief. Then she comments as if her inner monologue takes over, "They are so in love."

He adds, "They're not very good at it. Matchmaking, I mean."

"No?" she asks, wincing slightly. Even if she and Castle are unofficial, it's not like they lack chemistry.

"We were already kind of matched before they came along, don't you think? Seems unfair to claim a match that's already been made."

The evening is growing late. The day was a wonderful one, another wonderful one. This is becoming a habit. It would be easy to let this last day before her bike is delivered go down in recorded history as romantic and lovely. Perhaps a fitting end to this fling.

But it isn't a fling, not to her. She's known that for a few days. And so much is unanswered. For some reason, she can't let the question rest this time, can't allow the see-what-happens attitude to drive their actions when they part. The words have been trying to emerge for days, and finally do so. "What are we doing here?" she asks without a flinch, still holding him, eyes honed on his.

"Dancing at a pop-up surprise wedding," he flippantly answers.

"I'm…I'm being serious. What are we doing, you and me?"

"What do you think we're doing?"

"Is this a normal summer affair for you, Castle? Do we just…end this in a day or two and go back to normal?"

"Adam get in your head?"

"Are you going to answer every question I ask with another question?"

"Would you like me to?" he asks again, teasing, but she doesn't laugh, not even a chuckle. She wants to scream. Maybe he doesn't understand how hard the original question was to ask.

"I get it. I understand," she replies, accepting his jovial responses as indications this is anything but serious. They'd made no promises for the future. Changing the subject, she adds, "I've never been to a surprise wedding before. Do you think—"

"I think," he interrupts loudly, "I wouldn't use the word 'normal.' Or 'affair.' I'm talking about you and me…not the wedding."

She's relieved, on one hand, that he cared enough to give her an answer, but something continues to gnaw at her brain.

"It's so weird, Castle," she ponders aloud. Her words sound more charged with annoyance than she wants. "You are full throttle, all-in, with everything. You never hold back…not a comment, you never hide a weird theory. You buy the best toys, the tastiest meals. You don't seem to hold back with women. Never miss out on a chance to do something ridiculous."

"Why is that weird? I've been that way since before you met me."

"That's exactly my point. The weird thing is you aren't acting that way. Not lately. Not with me," she argues, although they're surrounded by people, so the argument is at whisper level. "I've controlled the pace of all of this. You're cautious. You're careful with what you say, how we interact. I can feel your hesitation…It feels like you're holding back, like you're just along for the ride."

"But, oh what a ride," he deflects.

"I know I'm a difficult person," she contends. "I know I'm walled up, and careful, and distant. I have a lot of trouble letting people in. These are all things you know, you've known for a long time. Maybe you've decided it's not worth the effort, that this has been fun, but you have plenty of other options out there that don't come with my host of complications. I'm a lot of work. Or maybe you're…holding back because of me…because I make you feel like you have to."

"Sex with you is definitely worth any extra effort you may require. Believe me," he brags, falling into a safe default for his own protection.

But it hits her, almost knocking her back. Her expression goes blank. She talks about the music and the antics of someone who's had a bit too much to drink nearby. The hurt is emanating off her, radiating like the wavy curls of heat that rise from the blacktop on a ninety degree day. She wants to hide it so desperately, but doubts she can no matter how hard she tries. As Ciara walks by, Kate hands Castle off to her, whispering that she has to find the restroom. He clearly knows better.

Kate hurries into the powder room just inside the door, trying like hell not to look like she's running away, but damn does she feel like running away. She knows her bike will be there tomorrow and even if she stays a day or two after that, well, this brief foray into another world will be over. It feels unfair, terribly, to have experienced something only to watch it slip away.

A nagging voice, coming from the part of her that tries so hard to protect her from getting hurt in the first place, says, This is why you never should have stayed, never should have let him in. And still parts of her she's only just begun to free again remind her that at least she tried, she lived, she enjoyed it while it lasted.

For all of his flirtation, comments and teasing, she is the only one in love. Even if she's only confessing it to herself, the admission hurts. What a sad end to a wonderful stay.

Taking a last look in the mirror to be certain she doesn't appear too devastated, she exits the powder room to go back outside and find him. She isn't going to run, she's going to try to enjoy what she can of these last few hours. As she nears the door, she hears the words, "I am holding back."

Turning toward a darkened butler's pantry, she thinks she sees Castle sitting on the counter, staring down at his knees. It looks like his outline, although it's too dark to make out his features. His voice is the only certain identifier. She walks slowly over to the doorway near him and crosses her arms before she leans against the first row of cabinets just inside. The decision to go to him is a hard one, the kind of decision that reminds her of moths and flames, but she is compelled to hear him.

"But you are, too. It isn't like you're openly discussing your feelings or putting it all out there," he accuses, the words quiet but tinged with irritation.

"You're right I haven't. But that's what I tried to do. And you made a joke out of it."

She waits for him to speak, and will continue to wait for as long as it takes.

He sounds angrier than she's used to hearing. "I don't want to mess it up. And, no, I may not care about the precinct or police rules all that much, but I don't want you to shut down and push me away for months on end. Again."

"Again?" she softly questions.

"I fucked up, and I owned that," he confesses, glancing at her. "I apologized for breaking your trust when it came to your mother's case, and I stand by that apology. It was the wrong thing to do. But you dropped me like what we had meant nothing, like I meant nothing, like our days working together were meaningless. Normally I do live my life pretty all-in, but that summer, without you? All I wanted was to be with you again, working beside you. I would have done almost anything just to see you again. And you wouldn't even let me explain. So when I got back, when you finally let me back in your life, I was more careful. And I regret coming up here with Gina, I really do, especially if you… …if it bothered you."

He clenches his fist, looking like he's gathering strength. "But I thought we were getting closer this last year. And then Demming comes along and I'm on the sidelines again. So I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for any and every time I've done that. But it hasn't exactly been easy for me either, being the world's most replaceable sidekick."

"You are not my sidekick, and you're definitely not replaceable," she sternly counters.

"Sure as hell feels like I am. And you didn't even replace me with someone interesting. What the hell did you even see in that guy?"

Beckett feels the tension, that constant, gnawing pull, the one she fights with whenever Castle is involved: to be open or hide. "He was safe," she confesses.

"Safe?" Castle drops from his seated position to stand before her, still a few feet away. "You are the most phenomenal, intelligent, beautiful, fascinating, infuriating human I've ever known. Why in the hell would you settle for 'safe'?"

"What do you want from me, Castle? What do you want me to say?"

"The truth. You and I…we've had staring contests that were probably hotter than your best night with Demming. Whether you admit that or not, I know it's true. And you do, too. So I want you to explain why you'd trade intensity and tension and passion…for safety. More like boredom."

"I was trying to keep myself grounded." He starts to groan at her answer, and she wonders if she's going to lose him. So she admits, "And then not long before you left, I realized I didn't want safe. I wanted 'intensity and tension and passion.' And I ended it with him because I wanted you."

She herself gasps slightly at her own confession. Admitting it aloud is shocking, and at the same time, saying it feels like letting go of a tremendous burden. She looks at him, and he appears even more stunned than her, her eyes adjusting enough to make out his expression. He's still, frozen as he waits, face pleading with her to continue.

"I ended it with him. I had it all planned. I was going to come here with you. And when I arrived at your place, I was going to go on the nickel tour I knew you'd give…and at some point, whenever it felt right…I was going to kiss you…I was going to go for it, lay it all out there. Because I knew it bothered you when I started dating him, and I knew I had feelings for you that were getting hard to deny. And I was going to tell you, I was telling you, when I realized you gave up on me. Or maybe you weren't ever that interested in the first place. Suddenly there's Gina."

"I didn't know."

"So yea. I chose safe. For a minute. And then I realized my mistake. What about you? You've actually mentioned before that your whole relationship with Gina was sexless the first time around. So why? Why go back to something without 'intensity and tension and passion'?"

"Because…" Castle shakes his head as he tries to work through it all. "I guess…she was familiar, there at the right time, while I was watching you with Demming…"

"I'm sorry," she says, coming a bit closer but not touching him. "I'm really sorry, Castle. I was afraid."

"And now? You're not afraid?"

"Of course I am," she wryly chuckles. "But I hate caving to fear." She takes a deep breath, like a miniature meditation, and says, "The thing is, I'm here now, but I can still tell you're playing it safe with me. It… … it feels like..." she struggles epically, not just to be honest, but to find the words that will convey her meaning. Her voice isn't loud, but she's never heard herself sound so sure. "It's like I'm only getting half of you."

"I don't want to screw up here."

Beckett swallows, her vision adjusted well enough to see his eyes completely. It's amazing how informative his expressions can be. And that, deep down, they're both so afraid of screwing this up that they're going to ruin it if they don't make things right.

"I've learned something, Castle. It's not just work that is better with you in it…it's my life overall. You, you aren't safe. That makes me very nervous, and at the same time, it's part of what makes you so damn attractive to me, too," she smiles as the confession falls. "I decided I didn't want safe. I decided I wanted you, the full, un-watered-down version. I want that man, the one who isn't safe, the one who doesn't hold back."

His eyes lift slowly to hers, but he waits.

She takes a leap. A huge, terrifying vault off the top of an emotional skyscraper, and just hopes he'll be ready to pull the ripcord for her. "The man I'm falling for…"

He swallows, still silent.

"So," she says, a quiver in her voice, "that's what I want. What about you?"

The silence, the horrible, long, agonizing silence, gives her so much time to run a hundred awful scenarios through her head.

"What do I want?" he finally asks after a few beats.

"Yes."

"What do I really want?" he continues, still only answering with questions.

"Yea."

She knows there is a storm of thoughts in his head, but he seems so serene as he moves directly in front of her. "I want…" he closes the gap between them, backing her roughly against the floor-to-ceiling pantry door, enough to make the cabinet shake against the wall. "I want to do this without worrying that you might push me away or forget about me for something safe." He practically hisses that last word, like it's distasteful.

He takes her wrists in his hands, raising them above her head and pinning them against the door behind her. "I want to be with you the way I want to, without holding back. I hate holding back."

"I want that, too," she whispers, leaning forward, lips delicately parted, to kiss him.

He pulls away, his lips just out of her reach. "And I don't want to go back to how things were."

"I don't either," she says, shaking her head.

"What I want…" he begins, then the sentence falls into the abyss.

His will strikes her like a fury, like lightning that comes from a storm she didn't see on the horizon. His knee wedges between her thighs as he lifts her hands up higher over her head, their bodies pressed together tightly as he holds her in place unrelentingly. She cries out, damn right she does, at the power of this kiss.

She has enjoyed (in truth the word is 'loved' rather than 'enjoyed') kissing him, fucking him, sleeping beneath the weight of his arm as each exhalation tickles the hairs at the back of her neck. She's appreciated the meals, the outings, laughed at the jokes, been lost in this world that seemed so foreign to reality. Kate is certain she's used her lifetime allotment of smiles and flirty stares in just this last week. It has been, in many ways, unforgettable.

It is hard to say what is so different now, to put it together in a neat summary of words. The inability to perfectly define it doesn't make it any less true. It is different. These lips have met now enough times that they've lost count. These bodies, now clothed, have been even closer than this with somewhat alarming frequency. But here, now, it is not as it was before. This kiss reaches her heart, her very center, heavy and seething, scalding and electrical.

This…is how Castle feels when he's all-in.