A/N: Thank you again for waiting patiently for an update. Now that "A Book of Hope" is finished I'll be focusing more on this story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.
Just in case you missed the trigger warning in the last chapter, there are mentions of self harm in this one as well.
Chapter 9
Kate's words falter under the devastating gaze of a broken man. Castle watches her in the shadows of the bedroom, emotion shining in the deep blue pools that normally shine a bright cerulean. She can see that he has no more words, that the ones he just confessed to her have rendered him unable to function and as much as she desperately wants to help him, she has no idea how.
The truth is, no one could help her when she lost both her mother and father. No words could comfort the aching emptiness; no physical embraces could erase the pain. Nothing helped her, so how can she possibly help him?
"Rick," she soothes, choosing to use his first name because if there's ever a time that's going to be extremely personal and intimate between them, this is it.
He doesn't react, doesn't acknowledge her use of his first name, in fact, the only thing he does is stare back at her. But if she had to guess she'd say he's not really looking at her at all. His eyes have glazed over; propelling him back in time to what she's sure is that painful day where he lost his wife. He's surrounded, trapped in the overwhelming darkness that suicide brings to the families left behind.
"I'm sorry. I wish that there was more I could offer you, but I'm so sorry that you had to deal with that."
She pushes herself closer to him, brushes her lips across his cheek and her fingers find his own, anchoring him to her in the only way she can.
It's quiet for a long time, so long that she almost hopes he's drifted off to sleep, but when she lifts her head to look at him he's still staring straight ahead. And she's not cut out for this, has no business trying to comfort someone when she's nothing but a broken, haunted woman herself.
But she won't leave him, won't let him deal with his demons alone, because he did the same for her.
She returns her head to his chest, hopes that at least her presence is bringing him some comfort. And the rhythmic beating of his heart eventually lulls her to sleep.
Not even an hour later she's jostled awake by movement, eyes flashing open when she realizes that Castle has rolled her off of him and slipped out of the bed. She groans, glancing at the clock and sighing when the blue glow of three a.m. glares back at her.
"Castle, what's going on?" she asks, pushing herself into a sitting position so that she can see him better.
"Go back to sleep, Kate. I have to check on Alexis."
He moves towards the door as he speaks, not turning to look back at her.
"It's three in the morning, I'm sure she's sleeping. Come back to bed," she murmurs, rubbing her eyes to try and clear the blurriness.
"I'll be back after I check on her," he says with his back still to her.
And she shouldn't push her luck, but she can't stop the words from tumbling from her mouth.
"Rick, you need to get some sleep."
"You don't understand," he bites, finally whipping around to stare angrily at her.
"Understand what? Why you need to check on your teenage daughter at three in the morning?"
"Alexis is the one who found Meredith. Not me. I should have been there, I should have stopped it, but instead, my baby girl found her mother cold on the floor in our bathroom while I was at a meeting with Black Pawn."
Once again she's rendered speechless, blown away by the pain and suffering that this family has been through. But he doesn't give her a chance to say anything; he just turns and walks out, leaving her awkwardly alone in his bedroom.
He's gone for a long time, so long that the first rays of sunshine are slipping through the window, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow that would lift any soul if it weren't for the black cloud that's permanently settled around both her and Castle. Two completely different worlds of darkness, two devastating storms that have battered and beaten them both.
She finally gives up on the chances of falling back asleep; the things Castle has opened up to her about rolling around her mind on constant replay. She tosses the covers away from her body, finds her clothes where they landed randomly around his room the night before and then slips into his bathroom, softly closing the door behind her.
The large walk-in shower calls to her, its fancy controls and customizable water temperature enough the make her hum with pleasure. She sinks into the stream of water, lets the perfect pressure pound away the soreness of her muscles and jumbled thoughts of her mind.
For minutes that she eventually loses track of she's able to lose herself to the drops of water that cascade down her skin, able to forget everything that she's done and said and heard in the last few hours. But then a sharp burst of cool air drifts across her skin and chill bumps dance over the expanse of her body before Castle steps in behind her and chases the chill with the press of his warm, naked skin.
She wants to fight the immediate need for him, wants to swallow down the arousal that seeps through her blood, but his hands find purchase on her body and she shivers, backing herself up against the hard wall of his chest.
She knows what this is, knows that he's using her method for forgetting. Sex is an escape for her but he's already told her that it doesn't work for him, so why is he choosing to use it now? Why is he relying on a short term remedy when the long term effects will hurt him far more than it will her?
Only he can answer those questions, but she won't voice them aloud, won't stop him from taking what he needs from her, because that's all she can offer him right now.
"Castle," she breathes when he spins her around, backs her against the cool tiled wall in the far corner of the shower.
She shivers when the stream of water is cut off, leaving her dripping, wet skin chilled and protesting, but he quickly replaces it with the press of his body, uses his knee to nudge her legs apart as his hand drops lower.
The first dip of his fingers through her swollen, tender flesh makes her body burn in places that she wasn't aware it could. He eases one finger then two inside of her, twists them against her front wall and catches her around the waist with his free hand when her knees buckle and threaten to send her to the ground.
It's so good and she doesn't want him to stop, but she wants to know, needs to hear more from him. And it's selfish for her to even ask because she wasn't willing to give him much more information about her past than he's given her, but his pain draws her in, makes her curious and needy for the backstory of this man that she doesn't want to let herself fall for, though falling for him is exactly what she's doing.
And it's not because she's afraid that he'll hurt her, even the few nights spent in his bed or hers have proven that hurting her would be the last thing he would do. It's because she'll hurt him, it's inevitable and a trait that she was born with, the ability to hurt others even when she doesn't realize she's doing it. And hurting him would break her, if it's even possible for the shattered pieces of her life to break again.
Richard Castle deserves more than her, and she hopes he'll see that before she has to force herself to leave him alone.
The sweet glide of his fingers pauses, causing her drowning thoughts to release their hold on her and she lifts her head, finds his eyes with her own and stares into the twin pools filled with pain and torment, but also with want and desire.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asks, shifting his fingers so that they almost slide out of her and she whimpers.
"Why are you asking me that?"
"Because you seem to be anywhere but here right now and if you don't want this then you can tell me, Kate."
She nudges his hand from between her legs because having his fingers inside her seems inappropriate for the seriousness of their conversation. But when hurt flashes across his eyes, clueing her in to how much he wanted her to tell him not to stop, she wraps her arms around his neck, keeps him from moving away.
"Are you doing this because you want to, or because you're trying to use my method of escaping even though you already told me it doesn't work for you?"
"If I say both does that make me a terrible person?" he asks, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath before focusing on her again.
"No, it makes you human," she whispers, leaning in to brush her lips across the edge of his mouth.
"I'm here for whatever you need, Rick. I can't—I can't promise you a relationship because regardless of what you may think you know about me, a relationship with me should be the last thing you want, but I'm here right now, so tell me, what do you need?"
"You," he breathes against her lips, surging in to kiss her, bruising her already swollen lips with the fierceness of his kiss.
"Then take me," she whimpers, sighing when he leaves her mouth to trail kisses down across her jaw.
"No, Kate."
Hurt washes through her when he pauses after those words and she starts the push away from him, but he tightens his hold on her body.
"I want all of you," he clarifies, the pressure of his fingers almost painful on her hip when she freezes, entire body becoming stiff and unmovable with the weight of his words.
"No, you don't want that," she protests, shaking her head and shoving against his chest, but he refuses to move and her chest tightens with the panic that's rising through her body.
"Yes, I do."
"Don't," she argues, pushing him harder so that he finally steps back. "I know you're hurting right now, but I'm the last person you should want, so don't say that. Don't."
She heaves in a breath when she finishes talking, doubling over to rest her hands on her knees because suddenly, looking at him is entirely too much for her.
"Kate," he soothes, stepping closer to her again and when her body trembles, the weight of their conversation taking its toll on her, his hands find her shoulders and ease her upright again.
"Two weeks ago you spent the night in my bed. You let me spend the whole day with you on the anniversary of your Father's death. You let me in even when you didn't want to and I think at the end of the day you were glad you did. Every day for the past two weeks I hoped you would call, I waited for you. Do you know why?"
She shakes her head, unable to form any words in answer to his question.
"Because I think you're extraordinary. And that's just from the little bit I know about you. I don't know what the future holds, I don't know what I can offer you right now in the midst of the disaster that I am, but I know that I want you in my life. When Meredith committed suicide, I thought I would never want another woman again, because it was all I could do to live through the pain. But then I met you and something inside me flickered to life again. I don't care how broken we both are, I don't care that we'll have to pick up our pieces one at a time. We can do that together. I mean it when I say I want you, all of you, because I don't want to be lonely anymore, and I think deep down inside, you don't either."
The honesty of his words is written all over his face and it breaks her apart, releases the sobs from the dam she'd hoped would hold them back. He catches her against his chest, holds her up until the trembling in her slender frame eases and she's able to push herself back a fraction, able to stand without her knees buckling.
"Please say something," he begs when she only stares at him, eyes wide with panic.
"When you went upstairs earlier you seemed so closed off, so much like myself that I understood completely your need to not talk about it, so I didn't expect you to come in here and say the things you just did."
"I didn't either," he admits. "But I went upstairs to check on my sleeping, innocent daughter and I started thinking. She deserves more from her father than a walking shell. She deserves more and so do I. And I want more with you."
She pauses before she answers, takes a deep breath to calm her nerves.
"Opening up isn't easy for me. I guess—I haven't trusted someone enough to let them in for so long that I'm not sure I know how to anymore. But I will admit that something about you is different. You make me feel things that scare the hell out of me. I've only been in one serious relationship since I lost my parents and he moved across the country for a job. I know how bitter the events of my life have made me, I know how difficult I can be and I don't want to hurt you, Rick. God, that's the last thing I want to do."
"You won't" he assures her, backing her up against the wall again.
"You don't know that," she says, shaking her head when he lifts his hand to her face, cradles her cheek against his palm.
"You're right, I don't. But I'm choosing to believe it. Do you trust me, Kate?"
She swallows but nods her head. "Yes. I don't—trusting isn't usually something I do so easily, but I do trust you."
"Do you want me?" he asks, using the hand not resting against her cheek to lift her leg and drape it over his hip.
She drops her head back against the wall when his erection shifts between her open legs, pushing against her sensitive flesh.
"Kate?" he questions, growling against the exposed flesh of her neck.
"Yes. Yes I want you," she whimpers, rocking her hips against him in invitation.
"Then let me have you, all of you."
The air between them ceases to move, everything frozen in time while he waits for her answer, waits for the words that he's desperate to hear. And any other time she would run, get away from there as quickly as she could, but for the first time in her entire life her answer comes with so much clarity that her heart pounds violently against her chest.
"Okay," she chokes out.
"Okay?" he repeats, needing more from her.
"Okay, yes. I'm yours, Castle. You have me. But I can't promise-"
He cuts her off, sealing his lips against hers with so much passion and promise of his own that she has to fight back more tears. And then clearly he's had enough words, heard all he needs to hear from her, because he lifts her leg higher and slides into her without warning.
The delicious stretching as he thrusts in and out over and over is more than welcome, the increased wetness between her legs making it obvious. She moans, incoherent words ripping from her throat as he drives her higher, hits her in just the right place so perfectly that her other leg trembles, threatening to give out.
Castle doesn't miss a beat, lifting her other leg and draping it around his waist as he pushes her harder against the wall, holds her there with the sharp, repetitive thrust of his body.
"Oh, god, yes," she cries out when the angle changes and pleasure ripples through her body.
And then without warning she breaks around him, sobbing through her release as wave after wave of sweet ecstasy washes over her. But instead of slowing down and waiting for her to come down from her high, Castle fucks her through it, hurdling her towards another orgasm before she recovers from her first.
She tightens her legs around him, clenches her inner muscles in time to this thrusts and he groans his approval seconds before he spills inside her, white hot release pulsing and spilling out around them.
Things are quiet when they step out of the shower, drying each other off in a comfortable silence that neither has experienced since they met.
She knows it's later in the morning when they spill out into the bedroom, tangled in each other's arms and the sunlight dances across their naked skin.
But then awareness kicks in and she shies away from him.
"Kate?" he questions, following her back into the bathroom where she's quickly dressing.
"I'm sorry, I just…your daughter is here and after everything she's been through I don't think walking into your room to find you with a naked woman that she's never met is the best thing for her."
He chuckles, brushing a hand over her neck once she has pulled her shirt over her head.
"My door has a lock, and Alexis never just bursts into my bedroom, Kate, in fact, she rarely steps foot in here since…"
He trails off, glancing around the bathroom as if he's just remembering what scene he found eight years ago in the very same room.
"Rick?" she soothes, lifting her hands to his arms, smoothing her palms over the expanse of his biceps.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shut down like that. I'm…I haven't opened up to anyone but my therapist about this. Alexis was too young to talk to, all I could do for her was answer questions, and my mother just didn't understand. I moved her in here to be there for Alexis, but I basically closed off that part of my life from everyone else."
She nods her understanding, dropping her arms to circle around his waist. "Does going to a therapist help?" she asks.
"I guess it helped to get it all out, but I stopped going after a few weeks, stopped wanting to talk about it."
She nods again because she knows all too how not wanting to talk about things feels. And sometimes when people constantly ask it just becomes too much.
"If we're going to do this—a relationship, I think opening up to each other is something we're going to have to work on right?"
"Yes," he answers. "I need to apologize ahead of time because talking about Meredith is painful and I get defensive sometimes. I don't want to say anything that will hurt you, so bear with me, okay?"
"Rick, you're talking to the queen of hurting people. I already told you that I was terrified I would hurt you more than you already are, so I of all people will understand if you lash out."
"But that's the last thing I want to do. I want to be able to tell you everything," he admits, honesty burning bright in the deep blue pools staring back at her.
"I know. I just—I don't know where to start with this. How do we know the line between what's too much and what's not enough?" she asks.
"We listen to each other, we read each other. When there are things we need to know we push, but when it's too far, when we need to back off and give it some time we just tell each other."
"Okay," she agrees.
Quietness falls over the room again, painting them both in a sea of unknown knowledge and the questions burn through Kate's mind, demanding to be asked. She hesitates on her next words, unsure of how much he can handle on this day, but if opening up is something they have to work on then she knows asking can only push them forward.
"Can you—how did…I don't really know how to ask this," she shrugs, biting her lip as her nerves take over.
"You want to know more about Meredith?" he asks, reading her mind with an ease that scares her almost as much as it thrills her.
"Yes, but only what you're comfortable with. I know that today's a hard day, but being with you two weeks ago, talking to you about things that no one else knew, it helped me, so much."
He moves away from her, confusing her as he rifles through the bottom drawer of his dresser and pulls out a small box. When he lifts the lid he retrieves a small, folded piece of paper.
He reaches for her hand, pulls her to the bed and motions for her to sit beside him and once she does he places the paper in her lap.
"Meredith was complicated. And though it's not the norm, I think telling you about that part of my life is best started from the end. I've never let anyone else read this except for the investigating officer who assisted the case when Meredith's parents refused to believe that she took her own life. I found this letter under my pillow the night after she did it."
Kate takes a deep breath, lifting the letter so that she can carefully unfold it.
"You want me to read her goodbye letter? Are you sure?"
"We have to start somewhere, Kate. My wife committed suicide and you deserve to know why."
Would love to hear your thoughts! xo
