Alas! Nobody pays me for this. I own nothing but my thoughts. Angsty and depressing as they are right now. Enjoy!
He runs.
Away from her hurtful words and her wounded eyes. He runs from the terror that she will demand answers, that he will supply them. He runs from a conversation they should have had months ago. He never should have left her during the summer. Should have pushed for the truth then. Should have fought for his right to be at her side. Because if he'd made his stand then, the last nine months might have gone much differently.
He runs straight to the 'Haunt' and into a bottle of scotch. Aged and smokey, it warms it's way down his throat. Slowly, it begins to numb his mind as he paces the basement. He could have gone home but there is something about the musty aroma, the wood paneling and the low yellow light of his office away from home, that soothes him.
He comes here when he needs to think. When writer's block is gnawing at him and her case has more pull than his outlines. The deadline for 'Frozen Heat' is looming and Gina has been hounding him for final edits. He comes to write. He comes when the nightmares rouse him, sweaty and terrified. When the cold space next to him in bed sends an aching need to his heart. He comes here a lot lately.
With every not so secret smile, with every intentional hand hold or hip nudge, the guilt has been eating him alive and he comes here to run.
Back and forth he paces, vacillating between hurt and anger. A heavy dose of sadness. He can't believe that they are back at this point again and with each gulp of the smooth, amber liquid his ire becomes a little more intense.
He'd always imagined once they both got over themselves and confessed their feelings it would be easier. That their love would be enough. But it's not. It just makes it worse. There are no secrets between them anymore, no excuses for half-truths and anything but honesty. The pain they inflicted upon one another in the gym was entirely avoidable. He should have eaten his fear and told her the full truth about the case, the threats and his fears for her safety.
She should have listened.
Damn, he hopes she will listen. When he's cooled off and she's ready.
She willcome back. He doesn't fear that. She was acting on adrenaline, fear and an ingrained response. He can't expect thirteen years of routine to be undone by a few confessions of love. But God, he hopes she will hear him out and at lest consider stepping away from the case. Because if she jumps into the gaping black hole that is her case, he has no choice but to fall with her. They are approaching the event horizon. Standing dangerously close to the precipice. He can feel the pull and is powerless to stop it. He wants to be able to hold her hand as they tumble over the edge; doesn't want to stand idly by and watch as she takes a flying leap into the chasm. He doesn't know if he has the strength to pull her back out. Not anymore. Not now that the hope he had clung to, the expectation that if they just said how they felt, everything would be all right.
It was stupid and romantic of him to believe it would transpire like that.
It doesn't mean he isn't still angry and hurt.
He slams down another shot of whiskey and waits.
She's fuming.
And he ran.
She'd told him to get out and he'd gone. Logic tells her that it's her own damn fault but her heart is aching from it. Because he ran. Again.
She's not the only one who runs. She'd been ready that summer almost two years ago. His steadfast presence and dogged determination to make her open up had succeeded and her walls had been torn down. And then he'd run to the Hamptons.
The walls had begun to crumble with a wisecrack about being tall. His ability to know what she needed before she did, surprising her. The whole facade had fallen when he'd come to say goodbye after she'd shot Dick Coonan to save his life. Panic has risen into her throat, horror that he thought she'd didn't want him there or that she somehow blamed him. And so she'd told him she liked having him around. Liked having him pull her pigtails. For Kate Beckett that was akin to making a grand declaration. She'd opened up and it had showed. Everyone they met had a crack or wise words about how obvious their attraction was. After a lunatic had blown up her apartment, she'd cooked breakfast in his kitchen and thought she might like never to leave.
But then, whether it was his fear, with two failed marriages on his resume or her lack of practice with anything real, he ran again. Straight into the arms of Ellie Monroe. Of course, she'd played it off as nothing. As though she wasn't at all bothered. But the very next opportunity she'd had, she'd done some running of her own. Demming. What a mess that had been. An subconscious tit for tat that ended in disaster. A good man with hurt feelings, herself with a broken heart and Castle living it up with his ex for the summer. For the rest of the fall and through the winter.
It had taken the better part of a year to regain their momentum. To build back lost trust and new hopes. It had re-emerged stronger, clearer, deeper. But he was still dating Gina and she had found Josh and the timing had never been right. The final straw had come the night he came and begged for her to drop her mother's case.
If he'd answered truthfully when she'd asked what they were, she wonders if it all might have ended differently. Everything. She wonders if Montgomery might be alive. If she would still have a puckered scar between her breasts and a deep gash down her side. She wonders if they might already be living together. Planning a life instead of floating adrift. The rug had been pulled out from under them. A bullet had ripped into her chest and tore at her plans.
When she'd sent him away that night it had been out of anger. Sure, she was mad he had asked her to quit pursuing her mom's case, but mainly it was anger that he didn't have the guts to break the stalemate.
That she didn't.
Still doesn't.
She hadn't made matters any better by continuing the charade with the doctor. In the beginning, Josh was fun, easy and oh so good in bed. But she'd never felt much for him. She'd used him in the beginning to try and get over Castle, held onto him in the end because it was safe. Her guilt about her treatment of the perfect on paper, yet ultimately unwanted, doctor had caused her to keep him around even after the shooting. After she knew better and wanted more.
She'd placed him at her bedside like a guardian and protector. Because the physical pain was almost more than she could bear and her mind was addled by narcotics. And nightmares. Rick, bleeding out onto the grass. Rick, laying in the hangar. Rick, being carried to the grave in a mahogany casket. The thought of exerting any effort into the emotional aspect of what her heart needed had sent her chest tightening and her pulse racing. Sent nurses scrambling and monitors blaring.
In reality, Josh had been anything but her protector. He'd been retreating for months before the shooting. He'd held her hand and said all the right words but he was absent. Probably sensing her own withdrawal, he'd hung around out of a sense of duty rather than love or devotion.
It had turned her true champion into a vigilante.
It had sent Rick lurching into the void that is her case. Her life. She sent him there alone and unarmed. That he is willing to sacrifice his family, for her, both warms her heart and sends stabs of terror to her gut. Makes her so incredibly angry. That he would risk, for her, Alexis' life. That he could get himself killed and leave his girl exactly where she had been thirteen years ago.
It makes her want to smack him. Kiss him. Yell at him until he sees reason.
She hastily shrugs her jacket on. The air conditioning sends shivers up her spine as the perspiration cools and she grabs her boots, not bothering to put them back on. She doesn't feel mighty right now, doesn't feel deserving of four more inches and the happy self-satisfaction that the power heels bring. She wants to shrink into a small ball. Hide in the shadows. Hide from the stares she will surely get as she makes her way back out into the bull pen. She's a mess. She needs to run. She needs to hide.
She needs a friend.
The M.E. is up to her elbows in blood and gore when Kate enters and flops herself down at the small and cluttered desk.
"I know I keep a clean house, Beckett, but bare feet? Really?"
She looks to her bare feet, to the chipped and worn, linoleum tiles. To the small pools of blood in the vicinity of the slab. She's too tired to care. And she may have done some damage while she was abusing the bag. Stuffing her feet into the ridiculously high heels is the last thing she wants to do. She grabs a pair of booties from a box behind the desk. Better than nothing.
"Didn't seem important at the time."
Lanie puts down her scalpel, removes her surgical mask, her red smeared gloves. Raises an eyebrow and waits.
Kate gulps down a heaving breath of air, lets her gaze flit away from her friend before making her confession.
"He loves me, Lanie."
"And you're just figuring this out now?"
She hears the scoff and the laughter in her friends voice. There are no questions as to whom they are speaking of.
Okay, maybe she should be a little more specific.
"He told me, Lanes."
"Again?"
The M.E.'s mouth clamps shut and a look of horror flashes across her face. They haven't talked about that day. About what the writer had said or what had happened in the back of the bus.
"What I meant by that..er..yeah. Never mind."
Her friend's eyes cloud over as she removes her gloves, stalls and washes her hands. She comes to sit on the corner of the desk. Looks to Kate expectantly but says nothing more.
Kate realizes she hasn't spent much time with her best friend as of late. In her quest to avoid all things "Castle" she has subconsciously cut her dearest friend out of her life. Rick, being the topic most likely to come up during late night movie marathons or martini binges. She threw up the wall to protect herself from him and consequently barred anyone else from entering.
"I mean, I remember the shooting. What he said. And I told him. And then..Oh God, Lanie, it all went to hell."
Her hands are shaking. The scene from the day of the shooting replaying in her mind. Over and over. The unexpected and piercing burn of the bullet. The rush of air escaping her lungs as he dove at her and took her to the ground. Hoping to save her. Just a second too late.
How very, 'them'.
I love you. I love you, Kate.
She's in his office and her breathing steadies. Evens out and a smile graces her lips for a moment. A brilliant shining moment when her secret had been out and his hasn't. Blissful oblivion. His mouth on hers and her heart in her throat. So close, just an inch. An inch to the left or right and none of it would have happened. The board would have stayed dark.
Missed it by that much.
I'm sorry. So Sorry. Kate.
Her traitorous body. A terrible mistake. Not now. Not like this. But oh, so good. A thump to the head. Sense returning and then retreating just as fast. Her stupid brain stuck in detective mode. In victim mode. Unable to see past the anger and through to the fear clouding his eyes as he tries to speak. Unable to see past the rage that was once again becoming a fiery inferno. Stupid man and his stupid love. He has a family to think about.
Get out.
"..you with me? Kate?"
Awareness slowly returns. The flashbacks retreating to the part of her psyche she has, mostly, learned to keep hidden. Deep breaths, just like Doctor Burke taught her. In and Out. Focus on the good times. Happy thoughts. It's just so hard to distinguish between the two sometimes. All of her recent and most treasured memories are wrapped up and tangled with the most terrible.
"Yeah. I...sorry. Got lost there for a minute."
"You don't have to do this alone, you know?"
She sighs. This is what everyone keeps telling her. Can't they see the risk?
"Lanie..."
"Kate."
She rolls her eyes and thinks maybe coming down here wasn't her brightest idea. Her best friends voice is serious. Means business. Castle's not the only one who she's been running from or pretending like nothing is amiss. It's well overdue though, been festering long enough. The seams are fraying, hastily sutured wounds reopening. It's time to start over. Realign the jagged edges and carefully start over. Repair the damage caused by too many band-aids and not enough care.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
"No, what?"
"No, you don't get to give a blanket apology and pretend like we are okay. I love you, Kate, but cutting me out once you left rehab? Cold, girl. Cold."
"I needed space."
God. It sounds pathetic even to her own ears.
"Did you ever think about what your friends might have needed? We watched you die, honey. We watched you die. You died."
God. The guilt is piling up thick and fast. She deserves it though. She can't imagine watching her best friend die. Can't imagine not being there to help her recover. It hits her in a sudden rushing moment. Clarity. She'd been so very egotistical. Justifiably perhaps, but non the less, so very selfish. She'd been so wrapped up in her own pain, she never gave a second thought to the pain she might be causing everyone around her.
A tear slips down her cheek, lands with a small splash on an open autopsy report. Cause of death: acute hypoxia originating with crushing asphyxia. She knows the feeling. She swats at her eyes with the back of a thumb. Rubs over the marred report where her tear has blemished the print. Made the ink bleed. She feels sick.
"Oh. Oh God, I know. And you saved me. I'm sorry. I was so selfish."
"Yeah, you were."
It's not said unkindly. Just a confirmation of the facts. Still, it's not pleasant.
"Can you forgive me?"
Lanie makes her wait. Turns away as if having a hard time conceding. A beat longer than is comfortable. Long enough for the gravity of what she's done to set in. What she must have done to Castle, if this is what she's done to her friend.
Finally, a smile breaks out on her friend's face. Sincere and perhaps a little smug.
"Already have. Long time ago."
The grin is there still. Self-satisfied and very 'Lanie'.
"So this was?.."
"A timely wake-up call. You've imagined yourself in my shoes. Now imagine yourself in Castle's."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"I gotta go."
Lanie gathers her into a binding embrace. She's needed this hug for a long time. Her friend is warm and solid. Smells like bleach and Shalimar. Rubbing alcohol. It's strangely comforting. Brings back memories of nights spent in the morgue chatting over pizza and a dead body.
They really need to get themselves lives, Kate thinks, as a chuckle escapes her mouth and she disentangles herself.
"I'm gonna make this up to you, Lanie."
"Yeah, yeah. Go get your man."
That's exactly what she is going to do. She's gonna go get her man. Enough standing on the sidelines.
It's time to dive in.
A/N: Well, that chapter got away from me completely. It's about double my usual chapter length.
Kate just wouldn't leave me alone until she was ready to make up with Castle. Which is annoying because I had this whole sexy scene for the next chapter in my head and now it's not gonna work. Never fear though, I'm sure she knows what she's doing. Me? Not so much.
Lots of reviews for the last chapter. Lots of warm and fuzzies for me. Thank you all! Maybe that's why Kate was so loud and obnoxious in my mind?
Nicole: As always, all the imaginary monies! However; no soup for you!
