A/N: The last two paragraphs features some descriptions of mature themes. Nothing explicit, but heavy implied.
The ringing of the bullets as they leave the chamber of her gun are satisfying. The vibration radiating from the metal in her hands crawls up her arms and torso, loosening some of the tension that's built up over the course of a two day investigation.
On a Sunday morning, the shooting range is largely empty, and Kate doesn't feel bad about reloading her weapon and sinking another round into the target. It's not her best work, not by far, but it isn't surprising when leads keep slipping through their fingers and Joanne Delgato is still living with the knowledge that her mother's killer is out there.
It's a fact that hits too close to home on one of the worst weeks of the year for her. Birthdays might not be as difficult as Christmas or the anniversary of her mom's death, but it ranks up there. Usually there's nothing more than drinks with the boys and Lanie, going home to an empty apartment with a hollow feeling in her chest.
She already feels wrung out emotionally, and her birthday isn't for another fourteen hours. The bullet piercing through the nine ring on the target is but a marginal victory.
"I have good news!" Castle's voice echoes in the space once the clanging of her discharged weapon has gone, the steady pattern of his footsteps telling her that he's close to her selected cubicle even though she can't see him.
Kate is replacing the target with a fresh one when he strolls into the small space, crowding at her back in a way that calls to her frayed nerves. He could comfort her if she'd tear down the wall and let him into the story of her mother's murder but she resists the urge, too afraid of opening up that well that already bubbles close to the surface.
She's had too many years of therapy and analysis of her life choices not to understand that this is a trigger point, that one misstep could send her back into a rabbit hole that she may never crawl out from.
Her father's crutch became alcohol. Kate's became her mother's murder. There's not that much difference in the amount of destruction their mutual obsessions can cause.
"And what news would that be?" she questions once the target is sailing back to the end of the range, the traditional black silhouette waiting for another round of aggressive shooting.
He flashes her one of those little boy smiles, all eager excitement and flushed with pride as Kate holsters her weapon and rests one elbow against the small shelf intended for holding equipment to give him her full attention.
"I know a guy who gave me an idea about this case," Castle begins, those blue eyes sparkling at her in a way that makes her stomach clench with the memory of the three times they've kissed. At some point very soon, they're doing that again.
"Mmm, and is this the guy that you allowed to trespass on my crime scene? The guy that got a look at official photo evidence because you stole the file from Ryan's desk when you delivered two orchestra seats to Mame?"
"Borrowed! I borrowed those, they're already back on his desk!" he stammers at her, eyes wide with surprise and a bit of fear, "I knew Sito would nark on me!"
There's no shortage of delight when he cowers just a bit at the glare she gives him, sounds that she's sure are intended to be words falling out of his mouth until he goes quiet with a frustrated sigh.
"Castle," Kate begins slowly, pushing off from the shelf and taking the one step she needs in the tiny space to bridge the gap between them, "I like you," she keeps her voice husky and soft, the smallest hint of a smile playing at her lips, "I like you a lot, actually," and while that's true, she's also got a commitment to her job and upholding the law.
Not that it prohibits her from having a little fun.
Already he's giving her that glassy eyed stare, mouth parted just enough that she can scrape her teeth against the full pillow of Castle's bottom lip and Kate presses up against him, bodies aligned in a way that they haven't been since the after party at the public library.
"I-I…I like you too," he stutters, sucking down a deep breath when her lips skim along the tendons of his neck, lingering at the pulse point that tells her his heart is racing until Castle releases a soft grunt, one hand finally lifting to encompass her waist.
That's the arm she grabs, twisting it lightly to get his attention but not enough to hurt or even startle him. The fire is all on her face, a picture of complete business in spite of the pink blush she can feel on her cheeks and swollen lips gained from making out like a teenager, "You bring anyone else to a crime scene unauthorized and you're going to find out how my handcuffs work," she says softly, lips just brushing against the corner of his mouth, "And not in the fun way."
He's still staring at her, eyes a little glassy with want and fantasy when she backs up, smirk firmly painted across her lips with his slow exhale of air, "Tease," he grunts at her, lower lip protruding for the briefest moment.
"Oh, you have no idea," she counters, grin full and bright at the way his eyes darken. A promise that he'll find out one day if she's ever seen one. That shoots a thrill down her spine as she unholsters the gun at her hip, bracing her feet apart and lifting her arms, eyes focused on the goal before she fires at the target.
A round later she's managed one bullet inside the 10 ring, and left several of its friends in the surrounding area.
With her own sigh of frustration, Kate tugs off her headphones, depositing them onto the shelf before discarding the empty cartridge in her gun, "What did your guy say?"
"Seeing comes before wanting," he replies, and she has to pause for a moment, brain spinning to understand the significance of the phrase, "This stolen jewelry isn't the type of thing that you'd see in every day life, these are pieces that you would only wear for a special occasion. A fundraiser, a society event, a wedding. So how do they know who to target?"
The logic of it makes sense, and an angle that they have already considered on a smaller level. She's impressed with it, gives him a smile that he matches while reloading the bullets and replacing the chamber. "And I want to talk to Mitchell."
That gives her pause, their burglar suspect still sitting out his time in lock up while they postpone paperwork. "He isn't involved, Castle, it's a waste of your time."
"I think he knows more than he's saying," Castle tells her with a shrug, "And I think I could get him to open up to me."
Kate is willing to admit that he has a knack for drawing stories out of the even most reluctant of people, but she still hedges on agreeing. Even if his hunch is right, there's a procedure to follow so that any evidence measures up in court. Sending Castle in, even to a jail cell, without an officer could be a problem.
"You wear a wire and only question him if he's willing to talk. If he says no, you leave," she replies, smile tugging at her lips when he punches the air with his excitement, swooping in just plant a quick peck against her mouth.
"Thanks, Captain," he mutters, wiggling his eyebrows at her upon letting her go. "If I hit the target can we make out for real?"
"Yo, Beckett, your boy needs a bag of ice," Esposito's call is loud enough to be heard over the din of the homicide floor that is packed with on-duty officers, detectives, and a myriad of witnesses, family, and other mishmash that seem to find their way up to the bullpen.
She's just turned her attention from a conversation with L.T., one of the better officers in Homicide and her next selection for the bump up to detective when the time comes, when Ryan and Esposito haul their home invasion ring leader across the elevator threshold. Castle shuffles in just behind them, left eye red and purple, shiny where the skin has started to swell.
"What the hell happened!" she's questioning her two detectives first, pointedly ignoring the first bump that Esposito gives L.T. when he walks past.
"He didn't stay in the car."
"That's not true, he tried to stay in the car. This guy just pulled him out of it and punched him," Ryan explains it all with an air of amusement and awe that almost makes Kate's lips twitch into a smile as Rick slumps into the chair that alternates time between the desks of the investigators. "He took it like a man."
Close your eyes, count to ten, Kate tells herself. The attempt to reign in her emotions only works marginally, but enough that she passes the signed documents back to L.T. with a strained smile and sends the man on his way before she approaches Castle. "How exactly did he pull you out the car?" she asks, fingers gentle where they touch under his chin to angle his head to the light. Under the ancient fixtures in the precinct, the whole thing looks a sickly yellow shot with strands of red lines and purple smudges.
"Well, he had a gun. I actually smacked him with the door when I was exiting, trying to delay until one of the boys could get there and cuff him. The punch was just taking one for the team," he tries to smile at her when he makes the joke, wincing instead when the action interferes with the swollen knot of skin, "Looks worse than it feels, I promise."
"Still, you need some ice," she sighs, taking the chance to caress his jaw with her fingers in what she hopes can be a soothing motion, "Come with me."
Five minutes later, Kate has him sitting in a chair with a small bag of ice resting against his temple and a cup of coffee. Coffee that he has no interest in drinking from the look on Castle's face, " You can relax, you know, its just a swollen eye."
The urge to snap at him is immediate, welling up from that same place which has steadily ached with loss and grief since this case started. It's as sharp as it was fifteen years ago when she was nothing more than a young woman with the world laid out before her, but in some ways its even worse because, over a decade later, the well of pain is deep, swift and never ending.
Kate doesn't feel as if she's accomplished much at all, that ten years from now she'll still be sitting somewhere on her birthday, lonely and said with a room full of people. "And it could have been a bullet, Castle." she replies, tone edged with a brittleness that the rise of his eyebrows tells her he's picked up on, "Don't make light of this. That guy could have pulled a gun on you and shot you, then where would you be?"
With the silence that fills the room, thick with the unspoken thought of how they initially met, she takes a seat across from him, fingers working at a knot of tension that has created a steady, dull throb directly behind her left eye. All she can think of is the sound of the gunshot, the heavy thump of his body on the ground, the smell of blood even as he told her it'd be okay, that she was worth it.
Did her mother think it was okay as she lay dying in an alley? That Kate and her father would figure it out in her absence? If so, she was wrong because fifteen years on, she isn't sure she's managed to get a thing right.
Birthdays are meant to be happy. This year, she just feels like a failure.
"I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't think about it like that….." Castle's voice is soft, authentic with the apology that shines in from the one eye not hidden by ice. "I know this hasn't been easy for you, it doesn't take Freud to understand what is what with you and this case. It reminds you of your mother, I know."
That stab of grief grows in triplicate with her words, forcing Kate to close her eyes and bury the emotion behind those iron walls that keep her at arms length from everyone. The reminder of the obvious hurts, the picture of Joanne Delgato's devastated face a mask of the one that so often stares back at her in the mirror.
She thought there'd be some comfort in finding one murderer, but there isn't. She still aches. She still wants to rage at the world and crumple into a ball and just cry for what she's lost.
Instead, she holds on to her anger and frustration bringing her to her feet, "You don't know me Castle. You've been here a week, I've lived with this for years. Don't try and psychoanalyze me to get more story for your book."
"No, I wasn't…." he's suddenly on his feet too, tossing the half melted bag onto the floor as she hitches her bag onto her shoulder.
"Weren't you?" Kate challenges him quietly, "Maybe not intentionally, but you are trying to fix a problem that you don't understand and you can't do that. Not if you are going to be here long term, not if we are…" she stops herself by pressing her lips together, holding in on the words and releasing them with a sad sigh.
"I'm going home, I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Esposito and Ryan we'll meet some other time."
In an hour of reading, Kate's managed one page of a book that once provided her comfort and hope. Tonight it just fills her with loneliness and regret, the words blurring on the page when her thoughts stray to the wounded look in Castle's eyes when she'd left him in her office, of the grief in Joanne Delgato's when she'd delivered her mother's locket to the woman and informed her that her mother's killer was now in custody.
Justice for other people, but never for her own mother. Most days it's enough. Most days she can live with knowing that another family won't toil away years in a private kind of agony.
Today, her thirty-fifth birthday, its so far from enough that its laughable. Serving justice has just opened the chasm wider, leaving Kate clinging to the edges so that she doesn't go down the rabbit hole.
She won't open the shutter with her mother's case decorated across the edges. She won't stare at the photos until her eyes grow hazy with tiredness. She won't lose herself to it.
Even as Kate tells herself she won't, deep down she knows that she will.
When the knock comes at her door her fingers are hovering over her phone screen, debating the merits of calling Castle and asking him to come over. If nothing else, she owes him an apology for her reaction and there's just that lingering knowledge that if she'd let him in that Richard Castle would support her to the end of the earth.
He's waiting in the hall when she opens the door, hesitance written all over his face that's directly at odds with the bright balloons tied to his wrist as well as the small cake with 'Happy Birthday, Kate!' written in blue icing, candles reflecting heat and smoke as they dance around the edges.
"No one should be alone on their birthday, Kate," he says before she can find the words, too busy being overwhelmed by the sweet, thoughtfulness of the gesture.
"…..Rick," she croaks out his name around a sniff, playing for time by brushing her hair behind her ear, tugging on the oversized beige sweater that she'd normally never wear with the knowledge that a man was coming to visit, "How did you even know?"
"Esposito told me when I delivered your message. He was upset you cancelled your birthday drinks, apparently he has a present for you that he's dying to see you open," Castle supplies, lifting the cake just enough that she can feel the heat of the candles warm her face, "Make a wish."
She doesn't make one when she leans in to blow out the candles in one go, she doesn't need too, not when the thing Kate thinks she'd wish for is right here in front of her, bringing a much needed sense of joy into a day full of gloom and heartache. The whoop of excitement he gives once the candles have been extinguished tugs a genuine smile out of her. When he swoops in to kiss her she can taste a hint of sugar on his mouth and it makes her think of all the ways she could put the icing on her cake to better use.
"I'm just going to put this inside and then I'll leave you to it, okay? See you tomorrow at the precinct."
Castle's already squeezed himself into the apartment, stumbling a little awkwardly until he orients himself and spies the table where most of her mail and keys usually end up. The cake ends up placed on top of some flyers for a new Chinese restaurant on her block, balloons tied onto the handle of the drawer where Kate keeps her gun.
Once his hands are free, she steps forward, hands rising to cup at his cheeks in the instant before her mouth falls onto his. The grunt of surprise Castle gives is muffled, but it doesn't last long. All too soon he's kissing her back, hands falling to land at her waist and hauling Kate's body against his as teeth and tongues battle for control.
"Thank you, Castle," she tells him when they finally break apart, lips swollen and breaths coming in quick bursts. Even as she talks, Kate's mouth is pressed against his jaw, the scene of his cologne filling her nose. It's not a surprise that she can feel tears pricking at her eyes again, not with the emotional onslaught of the past few days, but she curls against him anyway, arms winding around his waist to hold him against her.
Without heels to give her added height, she feels small and sheltered with Castle's larger frame easily able to accommodate her own. "Of course," his reply comes quietly, curling against the shell of her ear with the bend of his head, lips already at work against the pulse point that thrums just under her jawbone in a way that leaves her listing into him with a hum of encouragement, "If I say I'm sorry are we considering this making up?"
His teeth are nipping at that same sensitive patch of skin with the question, pulling a groan out of Kate with an effortlessness that should be embarrassing. She only angles her head further to the side, sighing with satisfaction at his renewed efforts, lips working on her in a way that she knows will demand a turtleneck for work in order to hide the mark.
Kate doesn't care.
"Yes," she breathes, both an answer and vocal affirmation of what he's doing to her, how the broad lines of his fingers are clutching at her, cautiously sliding over the curve of her backside, dipping under the hemline of her sweater. "Definitely making up."
"Making out," he quips, smirking at her before Kate leans forward to kiss the expression off his mouth, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip in the same instant that she's lifted off her feet. The sensation of being carried, even with her legs wrapped securely around his waist is dizzying and it takes three long strides before their mouths slide apart with a pop, Castle's blue eyes as dark as she's ever seen them while his eyes track her apartment and location her couch.
It the time it takes to situate himself on the piece of furniture, she's managed to work him out of his coat, two fingers diving in to unbutton his shirt at the top two notches. Dipping her head to taste at his skin is natural, teeth and lips exploring and teasing until he's slumped onto her sofa, shifting their lower bodies into a direct frisson of contact that makes her grunt and rock against him.
"Kate….God, stop," he growls it at her, hands gripping hard enough at her hipbones to bruise even though his mouth is gentle, reverent with a kiss that makes her heart want to burst, "We need to…mmm..talk. I have to tell you something first."
She doesn't want to talk, not really. Kate wants to entice him to pin her to the couch and make her forget the day with the roll of his hips and the curl of his mouth. She stills anyway, head lifting to meet his eyes, fingers resting at his cheek, "No, you don't," she replies before he can get started on his apology, "I shouldn't have said that to you. My mother's murder is…..its hard and this case, it falling this week, all of that made it worse. You were trying to help and I snapped at you, said something I had no right to say and I'm sorry for that. But I don't know how to do this with someone, no one has ever gotten…." the words clam up on her then, emotion of memories from past relationships crowding in. Will leaving her for another job, Tom's failure to truly understand why she was so driven to find the person responsible, Josh's look of surprise and sympathy when she'd finally shown him the window in her office.
None of them had treated the situation with respect, just tried to fix her, to make it unimportant and not the ghost that always followed her into a room.
"No one has ever tried to comfort me before, not without attempting to talk me down, to tell me to leave it alone. I just didn't want you to be in another list of people like that," Kate admits its slowly, each syllable drawn up from a place of utter resistance and reluctance. Sharing this part of herself isn't easy. Years of heartbreak have only served to make her all the more shy.
"Never," he whispers the word to her, lips landing just underneath her left eye, "I'd never tell you to stop looking for answers. You deserve to know what happened, Kate. You deserve the closure that you gave to Joanne today. But you were right, I was trying to ply you for information and not entirely because I find you fascinating and sexy," Castle's joke is a little out of place, but she smiles anyway, tight and strained even as his lips brush hers, "And that's wrong of me. I shouldn't try to trick you into giving me background with platitudes, even if I mean them. I shouldn't have made light of something that is very emotional for you. I'm sorry for that."
This time when she kisses him, there's a far deeper emotion behind the slide of her mouth over his. This time she is crying a bit when his tongue explores the cavern of her mouth, hands sliding underneath her top to find warm skin. This time she doesn't stop when her body demands that her hips begin to move, pressure building in delicious spikes that make her moan and gasp against the confined bulge between her thighs.
She only groans her encouragement when he removes her sweater, mouth hungry and open across her breasts. She's panting with want when Castle's fingers slip under her leggings, grunting a curse once they slide home, twisting and curling until her body explodes with a shout of his name, release falling over her in white hot waves of pleasure that steal her breath along with the desperate kisses he paints at her mouth and chest.
And once she's come down from her high, Kate stands on shaky legs, leading him towards her bedroom with one finger hooked into the waistband of his jeans.
