A/N: So, the last chapter was a little divisive for some. Not an unexpected response. I've included the last few paragraphs to reset the scene as we move on with the story.
As an aside, a friend recently recommended the music of two young sisters, called Lily & Madeleine, to me. By sheer chance they were performing in my city last night, all the way from Indianapolis, and they were equally as impressive in person. Their music is lovely, quite haunting, and their vocal harmonies are so beautiful in the way that maybe only two people who know each other so well could achieve.
I've chosen the chorus of one of their songs to head this chapter, since the words represent where Kate is at this point in the story so well. If you get a chance, I'd urge you to YouTube their song 'Sounds Like Somewhere'. It's gorgeous.
"Someday I'll find the right words
and I'll bloom where I was planted long ago
Until then, I'll be waiting
Hoping, to one day let go"
- Lily & Madeleine, 'Sounds Like Somewhere'
Chapter 7 – Shoring Up
Previously...
"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.
"Wait! You're right. I feel it too."
The words fly earnestly out of her mouth before she can stop them or even figure out the consequences of saying them.
But the front door closes soundly just a heartbeat or two later, and she sags, huffing out a heavy, shaky breath, her chest caving in on itself now that her effort is spent. Too late even with this honest revelation. Just great.
She rubs her hands down over her face and then reaches for her glass, planning to drain the remainder of the strong, sweet wine and then quite possibly empty Castle' glass too, maybe even the whole bottle, since she could do with finding oblivion tonight. Because she led him on and then she pushed him away again and finally, she lost it completely in amongst the push and pull, and she slapped him.
And why? Because he got a little too free with the truth? Because he crossed that carefully patrolled, electrified, razor wire topped, long ago constructed, invisible line they never breach? Because he fought to do for both of them what she has so far been incapable of doing? Worse than useless, verging on selfish, torturous humiliation the treatment she's been doling out to this kind and generous man who she already knows is in love with her.
She hasn't even brought the glass to her lips when she hears the unmistakable sound of shoe leather pivoting roughly against wooden floorboards, and she freezes.
"Tell me more."
His voice is a little cold, flat and demanding, but the note of curiosity that's keeping him here is all she needs to hear to allow her to imagine second chances and know this needs to be made right, by her, before another day, another hour or even another second can slip by.
"What do you want to know?" she asks, looking up to find Castle hovering in her entryway with his coat on, hands jammed into those deep pockets she joked about not half an hour ago.
"Everything."
"Are you sure because—"
"Beckett, I want to know everything," he repeats, still swaying on the same spot, his brow creased into a tense frown, his eyes clouded by equal measures of hope and pain.
"Then…you'd better take your coat off. I'll make us some coffee," she says, rising to go into the kitchen.
Together they collect the dirty glasses and sticky ice cream bowls from the coffee table, opting to drain the remaining alcohol down the sink so that clearer heads might prevail from now on.
Castle leaves her alone in the kitchen while she puts a new filter into the coffee machine, scoops fragrant grounds into the basket, fills the glass jug with water, tipping it into the reservoir with a shaking hand, before flipping the switch to turn it on to brew.
The hot plate hisses as drips from the bottom of the glass carafe sizzle and evaporate. She takes this time alone, leaning against the sink again, to center herself. She can't see him right now, but she senses that Castle is sitting on the sofa waiting for her, since she can't hear him pacing or moving about.
She has no idea how long she stands there lost in a daze, her head filled with regret and that uneasy feeling of having done something terribly wrong or foolish that sometimes - though rarely and not for years - has accompanied too much strong alcohol on top of too little sleep or too little food in the past.
This feeling that she's feeling right now is one she thought she'd left behind during her wild days with Royce. The fights they'd have, the late nights that only broke when the sun rose on exhausted, aching limbs, that brief crazy period of infatuation and stormy, combative sex that got rougher the longer they were together, instead of calmer, more skillful and more tender.
She should have seen the signs. She loved him, but he only cared about her. That combination never works for long if the guy is halfway decent. He let her down as gently as he could in the end, but not without some kicking and screaming on her part. But she was young then, grieving and in need of love. What excuse can she use now? She doesn't really have one; not where Richard Castle is concerned.
Time to come clean.
The coffee machine's alarm finally sounds, and she's fetching creamer from the refrigerator and then attempting to spoon sugar into his mug when Castle quietly appears behind her. She flits her eyes sideways to locate him while she tries to steady her trembling hand, the one in control of the teaspoon that's currently dusting her countertop with granulated sugar.
Castle reaches round her, clasps his fingers over hers and then gently takes the spoon from her.
She hit him - this gentle giant of a man. She struck him for speaking the truth. Slapped that handsome face that she should be cradling, kissing, touching with tenderness. Shame floods through her, leaving her pale, weak and queasy with guilt. Tears bead her lashes, obscuring her vision.
"I've got it. You can let go," he tells her, easing the half-empty spoon out of her grip. "Did any of this make it into the cup?" he asks, indicating what remains of the sugar coating the damp bowl of the silver spoon.
"Eh…some, I think. Maybe half," she shrugs, absently adding creamer to her own coffee and then secreting it back in the frig.
Castle wipes the surface down, puts the sugar away and then carries both mugs through into her living area.
Kate follows him like a rudderless tender being towed along behind a yacht.
Whether thou goest…
They sit down on the sofa again in the same spots they occupied not fifteen minutes ago, preparing for an awkward do-over.
Kate notices Castle's pea coat lying tossed over the arm of the sofa. His cell phone is sitting out on the coffee table, and she briefly wonders why he's left it there; whether he's waiting on a call or maybe made one, and if so, to whom. But before either of them can speak or she can attempt to apologize or explain, his phone begins to ring.
Kate stares at the screen in the second or two it takes Castle to find a coaster to place his mug down on top of and then lift the phone to answer the call. The screen image is a photo of Alexis. His daughter is the one who's calling. Kate's shame deepens. She struck the girl's father.
She stands with her own mug in hand and turns away, intending to return to the kitchen to give him some privacy. But he reaches out and captures her wrist, shaking his head when she looks down at him and then he signals for her to sit. She sinks back down slowly, obliging him because she'd probably give him anything he asked for right now, so deep and consuming is her guilt.
She turns her head in the opposite direction, angles her knees away from him, staring at a painting on the far wall while he answers the call, wishing he had let her go.
"Hey, pumpkin. You got my message?"
Kate tries not to listen, but it's hard not to when Castle is sitting only a couple of feet away from her.
"I'm still with Detective Beckett, yes," he tells his daughter, glancing at Kate, though she can't see him looking over, only hears the rustle when the skin of his neck whispers against the fine cotton fabric of his shirt collar. "She did enjoy the pasta, thank you. It was a great idea. You're quite right. We should celebrate every save. We'll be sure to make the party at the loft next time, don't worry. Beckett even said she missed your gram's cooking," he tells his daughter, laughing easily with her when Kate hears Alexis scoff on the other end of the line at her father's absurd remark.
The only thing more colorful than Martha Rodger's dress sense is her cooking, or at least the combinations of ingredients, spices and seasonings she thinks should be mingled together to make a great dish.
The girl asks Castle a question or tells him something, because there's a pause in the conversation while he listens to her talking. Kate sips at her coffee, letting the heat of the liquid warm her ice-cold hands. She wishes she'd put wooly socks on instead of ballet flats over her bare feet. But when she dressed she was hoping to impress. Now she's hoping to save the one thing she never wanted to risk in the first place, and socks don't seem like such a bad idea. They might even soften her brittle, tarnished image.
"I—I'm not sure yet," she hears Castle say, and her fingers tighten around the mug. "That's why I wanted to wish you luck for tomorrow…just in case. You are totally ready, oh brilliant daughter of mine," he says, and Kate cringes when she hears him forcing bright enthusiasm into his voice for his daughter's sake. "Bonne nuit, mon petit chou."
She can't stand to listen anymore, so she deposits her mug on the table and heads off towards the bedroom, aware that Castle is probably staring after her with a concerned look on his face.
She closes the door part way over and then sinks down onto her bed. She leans forward, resting her forehead on the heels of her hands for a few moments and then she takes one deep breath in, pushes her hair off her face and stands again.
Castle is sitting with his back pressed against the sofa cushions drinking his coffee when she comes back out of the bedroom wearing a pair of thick, baby blue cashmere socks.
He raises his eyebrows and gives her a half-smile.
"Cold feet," she explains, pointing to her socks. Inwardly she cringes at her uncomfortably apt choice of words, given the circumstances.
"Can't have that," replies Castle, lifting her mug up off the table along with his own, before standing. "Top up?"
"Eh…sure. Yeah. Why not. You know where everything is," she says redundantly, because they both know that he does. She isn't going to sleep tonight anyway, so more coffee isn't going to hurt.
Kate curls up on one end of the sofa, her feet tucked beneath her, while she waits for Castle to return. He reappears all too soon, handing her a fresh, steaming mug of coffee, creamer added just the way she likes it.
"Alexis okay? I hope I'm not keeping you from anything. Because if you need to go home this can—"
"No, Kate. This can't wait. Let me be clear about that," he says, with a resolute clarity and a firmness that bizarrely both terrifies and turns her on.
"Okay," she replies slowly, sipping her coffee, though it's still so hot it burns her mouth. The punishment feels fitting and good.
"Alexis has a French exam tomorrow. That was…" he shrugs. "Anyway, she's more than ready. She speaks the language better than most of her teachers."
"I'm sure," agrees Kate. "She's a bright girl."
"Anyway, you don't want to be making polite small talk about my daughter," he remarks a little formally, a gentle indirect nudge for her to get on with it.
"Right, of course. We need to talk and…" She bites her lip, looks down into the swirling surface of her coffee and then up into the startling blue of Castle's eyes.
She fidgets for a second, long fingers plucking at a loose thread on the hem of her tee. She swallows again before speaking, the glottal sound so loud in her ears she's surprised Castle doesn't jump.
"Please let me start with an apology? I should never have struck you, Castle. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Castle." She shakes her head, her expression grave, almost grief-stricken. "I don't know what came over me, but whatever it was is unforgivable."
"Apology accepted," he replies without hesitation, nodding with equal gravity.
"Thank you. Really. So…what would you like to know? Ask me anything. I'm…I'm not much good at this, as you can probably tell, but I'll do my best to answer truthfully."
She's trying to salvage their friendship at the very least, and figures that offering him the chance to question her might do them both a favor, since he gets to ask the questions he wants answers to and in the process, he will draw her out, force her to confront her fears and examine her motivations.
"Anything? I—I can honestly ask you anything?"
He seems genuinely taken aback by her offer, even after everything she has to make up for.
Kate nods, curling her legs under her more tightly. "Please. It's the least I can do after—"
"That's done, Kate. Let's move on," he tells her, crisply.
"Thank you. Your forgiveness is more than I probably deserve. But thank you."
"When I was leaving just now…"
Kate nods, understanding exactly what he's asking. "You want to know what I meant?"
"Please."
"You asked me a couple of times since we got out today whether or not I…I felt this thing between us. This connection or attraction…I don't know what you'd call it but…"
She grabs a throw pillow off the sofa and plants it in her lap, hugging it to her body protectively. "I didn't want to answer you earlier because talking about it means doing something about it and—"
"You're not ready," Castle finishes for her, sounding disappointed, but resigned.
Kate brusquely looks up at him.
"No, I was going to say that I know we have to acknowledge what there is between us, but I've been holding back from doing that because...I'm scared, Castle."
He looks concerned, but maybe also a little relieved by her explanation.
"You said that on the phone. But you didn't explain why. What are you so afraid of? Me? Because I'm pretty sure you can look after yourself," he adds, with more humor than she expects or wants to hear.
Kate drops her head in shame, recalling the slap, and then she forces herself to look at him.
"No, Rick, I'm scared of me."
Silence follows this pronouncement.
"You? Why?"
"After tonight, you even have to ask? I'm not a very nice person. I'm not even a very honest person sometimes. I'm hopeless at sharing my feelings, I'm closed off and guarded and—"
"And do you really think I don't know all of that by now? Really, Kate? After all the time we've spent together?"
Kate blinks at him.
"And yet you're still here. Even after I assaulted you."
"I pushed. Maybe I deserved it," he shrugs, trying to make light and get past her guilt, lest it cloud the real issue further. "You made it clear you were uncomfortable talking about…things. It has been a stressful day all things considered."
"No. No, please don't let me off the hook this time. For this to work, for us to get anywhere, we have to talk honestly and I need you to push me, Castle. You weren't being arrogant or—or even conceited when you said you have an effect on me. I would be a liar, and a pretty hopeless one, if I tried to deny that. You—you just get to me in a way that no man ever has. And I mean ever."
Castle stares at her, eyes wide and unblinking. "Can I ask if that's good or bad?"
Kate laughs hollowly. "Sometimes…yeah, a little of both. You frustrate me with your childish behavior and then the very next minute you utterly surprise me with your insight or your kindness or your patience."
"Sounds like a pretty solid basis for a partnership so far," he admits, sounding slightly disappointed that maybe that's all it will ever be.
"Come on, you know that's not all there is to it," challenges Kate this time, looking straight at him.
"Then tell me, Kate," he begs, edging closer to her along the sofa.
"I am deeply attracted to you," she confesses, squeezing the cushion in her lap, her heart pounding, her whole body flooding with heat. "And I'm pretty sure you feel the same."
"Is that a problem for you?"
"No," she shakes her head. "But it does terrify me at times."
"Please explain, because the way I feel about you…this is not just a passing attraction, Kate. You're not some meaningless conquest, believe me. If you were, I'd have moved on long before now. I've grown up just being around you. And I don't want to scare you even more, but…I care deeply for you."
Kate reaches out and skims the back of his hand with her fingers where it rests on the sofa cushion between them, acting like some kind of bridge.
"I know. I know you do. But what if that isn't enough? What if we give in to this attraction and we ruin everything? Like I said before, I don't want to lose the friendship we've got, Castle."
"Kate, you're not hearing me. I'm talking way more than attraction here. I'm so far over the line—So invested in this…"
He breaks off before he gives the game away and uses the word love and has her running for the door as a result. He doesn't think she's quite ready to hear that...not today at least.
Kate strokes her hand back and forth over his knuckles, and he can feel her resistance weakening slightly the longer she lingers to touch him.
"You don't think it's a risk worth taking?" he presses. "You don't think all the people out there who meet through work, who fall for one another in offices and factories all over the country might be thinking the same thing? I could lose my job, my lunch buddy, my best friend over this?"
"We're not other people, Castle, and you're not just some guy I grab a sandwich with and talk sports over lunch."
Castle laughs self-depreciatingly. "I'm not even that guy."
"You know what I mean. If we do this, what are the guarantees that it won't fail a month or two down the line? What if you get tired of me or don't like what you find when I let my guard down all the way?"
"Kate, I'd settle for you letting your guard down even halfway. And those are two of the remotest possibilities I've ever heard. But—but," he says, holding his hand up to stop Kate from interrupting. "I have just one question for you. Have you ever felt as strong a connection to anyone before and fought it? Not thrown yourself at it, just let it burn slowly, develop, simmer and grow?"
Her answer is swift, sure-footed and unequivocal. She shakes her head. "No. Never."
"And why do you think that is?" he asks patiently, coaching her through this until they reach some kind of logical, natural, conclusion, since that's what her cautious-in-love, left-brain leaning psychology seems to need right at this moment.
"Because…because you're too important to me. I feel stuck, Castle. If I let things stand as they are for much longer I know…" she sighs, running a hand through her hair. "I know that I'll lose you, and that would only be my fault. But if I tell you how I feel and we try…"
She pauses, taking a moment to look at him.
"Go on."
"If we fail and it blows up in our faces…I couldn't handle not seeing you anymore, not having you in my life." Her voice is faint when she finally manages to articulate her greatest fear.
"Then I think we have our answer. Is there anyone else, anyone at all, Kate, that is maybe standing in the way of us trying here?"
"What? No!" Kate shakes her head vehemently. "It's you, Castle. It's always been you," she whispers, her voice hoarse, eyes suddenly swimming with tears.
"Hey, hey, there," he soothes, scooting closer still, until they are sitting right next to one another and he can reach out and dry the tears from her cheeks with his handkerchief.
He lays a hand on her shoulder, rubs the tensed up muscles he finds there, and it's awkward and tentative, slightly clumsy even, since this transition from who they were when they left home this morning to who they are now, after the tiger, has been driven forward by such an unexpected catalyst.
Kate lays her hand over the top of Castle's and tilts her head to the side so that her cheek is resting on top of their interlinked hands. She watches his face as he watches her too; her view distorted at this strange angle that nonetheless seems apt, since they are in the process of tipping their private world on its axis.
"So…what happens now?" asks Kate, giving his hand a squeeze and then squirming closer to him on the sofa, so that she might lay her head against his shoulder.
Castle slips his arm around her and rests his own cheek against the crown of her head. She feels warm and safe and loved like no other time she can remember.
"Whatever we want to happen. We can take things slowly, Kate. There's no rush to do anything you're uncomfortable with. In fact, it's been such a long, exhausting day it might be best if I go now. Let the dust settle."
Kate tenses before she speaks, her relaxing muscles coiling tight once more. "Is that what you want?"
Castle can tell from the strain in her voice that this isn't what she really wants to happen next.
"I want whatever you want," he assures her. "Whatever will make us both happy and secure."
"Then please...stay with me tonight?"
TBC...
Love to hear your thoughts.
