TEN

Butterflies churning in her stomach, Kate opened the door to her apartment to reveal a grinning writer holding a medium-sized, white pastry bag. At his dopy expression, she let out a breathy half-laugh, but that did not assuage the nerves bubbling within her. That evening was meant to be their first "friend-date" and though by definition it was not an official date, as it was as close to a date as she'd had in quite some time, her uncertainty was at maximum level.

Ten days had passed since she and Abby returned to their apartment after spending five nights in the Castle loft. Though she (and from the sound of it, Castle, too) had been nervous about facing retribution from Johnny, he was dedicating himself to his mandated anger management counseling so as not to lose his job at the NYPD and thus had not contacted Kate directly since his initial phone call.

Once she accepted the fact that they were—at least for the time being—safe, Kate relaxed back into her regular routine with one addition: daily calls with Richard Castle. Sometimes, particularly if she had a late shift, they only spoke for five or ten minutes. Other calls lasted for well over an hour, after both their daughters were asleep. Their conversations weren't always deeply emotional or intimate, but the fact that he was becoming a steadier presence in her life relaxed her…at least until he suggested they officially pick a time for their first friend-date and she began panicking. Presumably sensing her hesitation, he bribed her with a delicious chocolate dessert, to which she agreed, but still: the simple fact that he was in her apartment made her slightly nervous.

As a woman with past that included both domestic abuse and sexual assault, Kate never liked strange men in her space—particularly not in her apartment. Of course, Castle could not be classified as a "strange man" and her concern with regards to him was different. She never once thought that he would attack her or force her into doing something with which she was uncomfortable. However, having him in her home made her feel exposed. He would learn more about her than before and there was always the chance he would not like what he saw.

"Hey, um, thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me," he responded as he ducked inside the apartment.

She led the way into the kitchen, which was located right beside the entryway, and gestured for him to put the bakery bag down on the counter. He did so and then began shrugging off his coat while she said, "I hope it's not too late."

"I'd hang out with you at any time of the day, Kate Beckett," he told her with a wink. Then, stepping back out into the entry hall he gazed out towards the main living space and said, "So…this is your place?"

"Oh. Yeah. It's, ah…incredibly uninteresting compared to yours."

He turned back to her with a smile. "Not at all. Tour?"

She gave a little shrug and stepped around him to lead the way out into the main apartment area. So much for a tour—they could more or less see everything by standing on that exact spot. "No tour needed—you just saw the kitchen, this is the living area and over there is a little bathroom and bedroom," she said, pointing to the wall opposite them. "And I can't show you that because Abby's asleep."

She watched as the writer gazed around, taking in her bookshelves, sofa, small television, and the table shoved up against one wall that served as both a place to eat and her make-shift desk. "You…you and Abby share a bedroom?"

Kate felt her cheeks flush once more. Ah—the first potential fact of her life that could send him running the opposite direction. "Yeah. It's kind of weird, I know."

He shrugged. "No, it's fine; just unusual I suppose."

She slid her hands down into the pockets of her jeans as she shifted her weight side to side. "This is the apartment that I got when I graduated the academy and after I got pregnant I always intended to move, but something would happen like my father going into rehab, Johnny assaulting me, or…the list goes on. I've looked at plenty of places, but you know Manhattan real estate—they're either too expensive or too far away or too filled with roaches."

"Right."

She gazed around at the place that truly felt like home after nearly eight years. "I like this little place. Really good location, rent's really reasonable…but I know we both need our own rooms. Maybe this summer or fall. We'll see."

Nodding to her, he moved further into the living area, stopping in front of one of her three bookshelves. She didn't think much of it until he plucked a title from the shelf and turned to face her, holding it up at shoulder level. "Want me to sign one?" Of course Richard Castle would walk directly to the one bookcase in her apartment that held every book of his that she owned.

A breathy laugh escaped her lips as she walked over to pull Flowers for your Grave off the shelf; she really was not going to survive the night without complete embarrassment—not that the writer was intending to embarrass her, of course. He just happened to be quite good at discovering the things that made her cheeks flush. "Ah…you already have." She flipped open the cover for the novel and showed him his signature.

Castle took the book he held and tucked it under one arm before reaching out for the signed copy and looking down at it, slightly amazed. Looking back up to her, he asked, "When?"

"Seven-ish years ago; before Abby."

He brushed his thumb across the signature before handing the book back to her. "Glad to know you really are a fan."

She replaced both books on the shelves and gave him a tiny shrug. Too embarrassed to say anything else she instead changed the subject. "So, um, how about that dessert?"

Twenty minutes later, after sharing a decedent chocolate lava cake, they sat on the couch in her apartment talking softly, when the issue of her limited finances ultimately came up. To his credit, the writer was not being judgmental in the least; he'd merely said something without realizing how strapped for cash they'd been for the prior few years and so she had to explain accordingly.

"May I ask how many times your father has been in rehab?"

She took a small sip for her water glass before replacing it on the end table. "Three. He tried really, really hard to commit after Abby was born but… I don't know. He just triggers and backslides so easily."

The four years between her mother's death and her pregnancy had been filled with a series of small highs and much lower lows with regards to her father. His drinking had started almost right away, but when she'd transferred back to a school in the city to be closer to him, he did better for a little while, but then they had to clean out her mother's clothing and other belongings, and he backslid. So on went the pattern for years: he'd sober up for a few months, start drinking again, get thrown out of a bar, sober up for a few weeks and start all over. When she told him about her pregnancy, he had entered rehab and made such a promise for commitment, Kate's naivety took over and she believed he would stay out of the bottle for good; unfortunately, that was not the case.

"I remember you said your mom was murdered…"

She dipped her gaze to her lap. "Yeah…when I was nineteen."

"The original trigger, I'm assuming?"

"Uh-huh. He's never been good at managing stress. My mom was always the one to talk him down but then she was gone, I was at school… his first time in rehab was when I told him I was pregnant. He did really, really well for about two years. I thought he'd finally kicked it but…then Johnny showed up when he was here, blasting me for…I don't even know. He didn't hit me, just verbal abuse. Dad didn't know about any of it, so I had to tell him…"

"And he fell off the wagon," the writer deduced.

"Yep."

Castle sighed as he gazed over at the woman far stronger than he realized now that he had learned more of her story. Not only had she suffered through a relentlessly abusive ex, but she'd had to navigate the emotional strain of having an alcoholic parent as well. Kate truly was extraordinary.

Sitting there, watching her with her hands tucked tightly between her knees, he finally felt as though he understand the majority of the sadness he'd seen behind her eyes when they first met on the subway. Now that they'd been spending time together, he could see a light beginning to shine through, and he liked to think that had to do with him—at least in part—but now that he truly knew he could help her find her way to the other side, and that started with making sure she understood she was not to blame.

"May I?" he asked, hovering his hand above her knee until she nodded in approval. His palm landed on her patella and he splayed his fingers down the top of her shin, giving it a gentle rub. "It's not your fault, you know—your father."

She bobbed her head. "I know. Took me a long time to accept that, but I know. I can't control other people's actions or their responses to situations. He has a disease and he needs to be strong enough to fight it."

Giving her knee a little squeeze he said, "I'm sorry. That must be very hard to watch."

"It is. He's been sober about, ah, nine months now, which is why didn't want him to know about all this Abby stuff."

The writer's brow wrinkled. "You didn't tell him any of it?"

"Ah, not exactly. I got out of Christmas by telling him Abby was really sick. Then when we went to see him on New Year's Day I told him that Johnny had spanked Abby for braking and ornament and come after me verbally and that I'd had enough and I was working to get his custody revoked."

"And what did he say?"

"'Finally.'"

"Can't say I disagree. Kate." He had also never been happier for insisting that she and Abby stay with him as long as they did. Without her father even knowing about the situation, she truly would have been alone, and that would have been horrible for her; an unnecessarily burden. Now, they were in this together.

Through his lawyer they were put in contact with another at the same firm—one who specialist in family and domestic issues instead of legal contracts for the publishing industry. The lawyer had come to the loft and he'd sat in the office as he and Kate discussed the situation regarding Johnny and she briefed him on his history of abuse, though notably left out the sexual assault incident. The lawyer promised he would do all that he could, but in the end, since Kate could provide no photographic evidence of violence against herself, the court had awarded weekly supervised visits to Johnny—at least while he was going through his anger management training; then the situation would be reevaluated.

Patting her knee he said, "I know those supervised visits weren't the outcome you wanted, but it's not over yet, and at least for the time being he can't hurt her."

She nodded "I know that. I'm just afraid he'll…he'll find a way to punish her for it somehow. He should be punishing me…"

"Hey," he said, calling her to look at him. When she did, he gazed at her very seriously. "He shouldn't be punishing anyone. His actions caused this and he needs to own up to them."

A mirthless laugh escaped her lips. "You clearly haven't met him."

Thank god, he added inside his own mind. He knew that if he came face to face with Johnny after knowing all the horrid things Kate told him about, he might not have been able to keep himself in check and might have felt the urge to lash out and punch the moron squarely in his face. If he were to do that, he knew there would be only two outcomes: one, he would be arrested for assaulting a police officer, or, two, Johnny, the more trained fighter of the two, would pummel him into the ground. As he wished for neither incident to occur, he felt it best to keep himself away from Kate's ex for the time being, and be there for her in other ways.

"Kate, you know if you ever-"

Her hand landed atop his and she gave it a squeeze. "I know…and I'm very glad I have you to talk to and hug every once in a while."

"I'll hug you any time you want." He assured her. Then, he pulled his hand off her knee and opened his arms wide in demonstration of this.

She chuckled, gave him a brief squeeze, and then slid back to her half of the sofa with a warning glance. "Baby steps, Castle."

"Of course; I'm not in any rush. Let's talk about something better okay? This Saturday is supposed to be shockingly warm–should we do something with the girls? You're not working are you?" He'd been thinking about it after hearing a radio personality mention the phrase "unseasonably warm" during a cab ride the prior day. He knew and appreciated the fact that they were getting to know each other slowly so as to solidify their relationship more before either of their daughter's became too attached to someone who might ultimately leave their life once more, but that didn't mean they could never get together as a group, especially for a fun, no-pressure afternoon.

"No, but…" Her eyes drifted momentarily towards the closed bedroom door and then she looked back at the writer. "I'm not sure."

He thought a moment before coming up with a new idea. "Why don't you take Alexis and Abby and have a girls' day? Walk around, window shop, get some lunch—on me, of course."

"Um…"

"Only if you want," he added quickly in case his suggestion made her feel uncomfortable.

She shook her head. "No, no that sounds nice, but only if it's okay with Alexis."

He smiled as he was certain his daughter would agree. "I'll check and let you know."

"Thanks for letting me to come with you, Kate," Alexis said once Kate had returned her to the loft apartment and Abby had asked to go upstairs and say hello to Hamlet, the gerbil.

Kate shrugged and said, "Of course." She had initially been concerned about how the girl would feel about spending a few hours with her and wondered if her father had enticed her to agree, but after their afternoon she didn't think that was the case. Alexis seemed genuinely relaxed around her, and she and Abby got along well. True, they'd had a few moments of awkward silence as the afternoon began, but once the conversation was flowing they were fine.

"I think as long as your dad and I are getting to know each other, you and I should too, right? I don't want you to think I'm just barging into your life…"

Alexis shook her head. "No—no I don't. I like getting to know you and Abby. And I like seeing my Dad so happy."

Feeling her cheeks flush, Kate stammered, "O-Oh, well…"

"And I'm glad we were able to help you."

Kate's embarrassment quickly morphed into guilt. The last thing she wanted was the girl thinking her relationship with the writer was a one-sided one. "I-I don't want you to think we're taking advantage of his-"

"Oh, no." Alexis reached out and touched her arm gently, an expression of wisdom well beyond her years on her face. "I know what that looks like; it's not this. Thanks again!"

Kate considered the girl's statement as she walked towards the stairs, wondering just how many women had chummed up to rich, famous author Richard Castle, intent on being wined and dined and perhaps getting a nice piece of jewelry out of the deal, before moving on to the next millionaire. Such thoughts had never even entered her mind. Not only was she not a materialistic person, but she would have felt endlessly guilty behaving that way.

All she really wanted was a friend and partner. Someone she could trust, someone she could depend on. Richard Castle was that man, she was certain of it, but she had no intention of their relationship being one sided. Yes, she was the "needier" of the two in that moment given her situation, but sooner than later (she hoped) the Johnny mess would blow over and they could become a normal couple. In time, Castle would presumably need to use her as a sounding board or for help with something and she could not wait to return the favor of being the best support system she could have imagined; she only hoped she could live up to the high bar he set.

A/N: as always, thank you all so much for your kind reviews