She remembers.
She's still cradling his mug against her abdomen like it's something precious, her eyes shining and searching his as if she's reading their story in his gaze. She mentioned the night in LA, their time in the freezer, his morning ritual of bringing her coffee every day.
So many defining moments that he was starting to think he would have to recount to her like a story she would never truly experience, understanding they happened, but forever unable to remember them. But now she's looking at him as if it's all come back.
"How much do you remember?" he asks before his heart can fly too high.
"It's all back," she whispers, as if she's just as afraid to believe it. "When we met at your last book party for Derrick Storm, I took you in for questioning."
"Yeah," he breathes, barely able to hear over the pound of his heart, hardly able to resist surging forward to gather her up in his arms.
"You used your connection to Mayor Weldon to weasel your way into my life at the Twelfth, into shadowing me," she continues, her face flushing with excitement.
"Yes, yes," he nods, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. Well, not too far of the mark, is he?
"You kept coming back, I - I asked you why you kept coming back." She licks her lips, diverts her gaze. "You didn't answer."
"I never answered," he confirms, stroking his thumb along her knuckles.
"But you kissed me later that night," she murmurs, attention falling back to his mouth, her skin tinting pink.
"Answer enough," he muses, receiving the narrowing of her gaze. "It was never about the books, Kate. Never completely. You know that."
"I do," she concedes, the statement peppered with a mixture of both confidence and trepidation. "I knew. I had no idea what you would be to me in the beginning," she murmurs, answering her own question from nights ago - if she knew from the start like he did, if she knew how what he would be to her, if she fell for him like he so easily fell for her. "But I knew it could never be that simple."
"All I knew when I saw you was that one of the best stories of my life was about to start," he confesses, the image of her with cropped hair and a fierce scowl flashing through his mind, making him grin. "I didn't care if it was a chapter or a full series, I just wanted to know you."
Kate drags the tangle of their hands to her lips, presses a kiss to his knuckles that has his heart flipping. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to it, the simple touches and innocent caresses that were once unfathomable and are now so openly given.
"You do know me," she nods, resting their hands beneath her chin, his forearm braced between her breasts, against her scar, the thrum of her heartbeat reverberating through his bones.
She really does know him. She remembers him.
"I'm so sorry," Kate whispers and he immediately feels his brow crease in automatic confusion.
"Sorry? Kate, why-"
"The last thing I said to you before all of this, before Montgomery was shot, before I was shot, was that we were over." She allows her eyes to fall shut in a moment of regret that he can barely stand to witness before they're fluttering open again. "I was so pissed off at you, for what you said, for - for being right," she confesses, biting her lip. "I didn't mean it."
"Of course you didn't," he murmurs with far more confidence than he feels, courage stolen from all of the confession she's made in the past two weeks. "You could never give me up, you never wanted to."
Quick recollection illuminates her face and she dares a smirk at him. "There were times-"
"Shut up," he mutters, stealing her other hand from its resting place around the homemade mug. "You said way too much this week to go back now."
That shakes her a little, has her lips pursing and her lashes falling like curtains over her eyes.
"Good," she says softly but with resolution. "Because I don't think I could go back."
His heart exalts, his chest fluttering with so much hope he feels as if he may combust.
"Rick, I - I need to stand up," she murmurs, the request not her true intent, he knows, but he patiently aids her in getting to her feet, ensuring she's standing steady, regardless.
"What else do you need?" he inquires, draping his hands at her waist, the soft whisper of lace beneath his palms.
Her lips part, eyes roaming his face with anticipation and trepidation all at one. "I - I need to say this first," she gets out, hooking her fingers in the sides of his shirt like always. "I know I wasn't completely myself this week, that I said… a lot more than I ever would have dared before."
"Yes," he nods, converging his fingers at the small of her back. "You really did."
"And I want you to know I stand by all of it," she says with that same conviction that has been keeping his faith alive all week. "I don't regret any of it. If - if anything I regret not telling you most of those things sooner."
Castle sighs. "It's mutual."
"Why didn't you tell me you loved me then?" she asks, not demanding, not angry with him. Just aching, desperate for answers, to understand. Just like he's always been.
"I was afraid," he huffs, scraping a hand through his hair. "I didn't know how you felt. I didn't know if you felt even close to the same or if by saying it, I'd scare you away regardless. If it'd just be something we never talked about again."
"Like the time we kissed," she whispers, the fire kindling in her eyes as she draws closer. "Or when we nearly died in the freezer, when I almost told you-" The fire fizzles, spitting with surprise, threatening to go . He pours gasoline on the embers before they can go out.
"Told me what?" he presses, closing in on her before she can retreat. "You don't get to hold back anymore, Kate. Tell me."
"I thought we were going to die," she defends, dropping her gaze to the floor. "Maybe I've always been just as afraid to tell you as you've been to tell me. But I don't want to be afraid anymore." She lifts her gaze. "Tell me the truth."
"The truth is that I love you," he gets out, even as his voice shakes, stops her in her tracks. "You are the most…" He exhales a breath, the words, adjectives, swarming his mind. "The most remarkable, maddening, frustrating person I have ever met. And I love you, Kate, whether you remember or not. I've been in love with you for a while now and I'm sorry I waited to tell you while you were bleeding out. If I have any regrets, it's that I didn't tell you sooner."
The clock in the tiny Christmas village set up in the living room chimes, marking the time of midnight. It's officially Christmas and he's already gotten all he wanted, holds it all in his arms.
"Tell me now. Tell me again," she whispers, curling her hands in his shirt.
He bows his forehead to rest against hers, breathes in the scent of pine needles in the air and cherries on her skin, and smiles. Smiling with his heart so full it may burst, rather than near tears with her blood on his hands.
"I love you. I love you, Kate."
She tilts her chin up, dusts her lips over his in a kiss that sends the flutter of his heart in his chest to a joyous uproar.
"Merry Christmas, Castle," she murmurs, her smile brushing against his. "I love you too."
A/N: Words will never truly express my gratitude for every single person who has ever shown me and my writing an ounce of support. I'm wishing all of you the happiest of holidays and a most beautiful new year.
Thank you for the encouragement, the faith, and the every day magic; thank you for everything.
