It's a short update. I'm sorry. Marlowe and 47 Seconds broke me! It's taken me until tonight to be able to write anything without wanting to curl into a ball and sob. They better fix it with The Limey!
Erosion
Chapter 36- Try
They moved awkwardly around his bedroom, both giving the other too much space; neither wanting to risk the tentative peace they'd brokered.
Kate rummaged through her bag looking for pyjamas, and her fingers slid over the smooth fabric of the satin and lace camisole that was all that she had packed for their evenings together. She stared down at the faint trembling of her fingers, willing herself to calm, and closed her hand around the lingerie to bunch the fabric in her fist.
"Here," Castle said from beside her, passing over a neatly folded bundle; cotton shirt and boxers.
She exhaled, his gentle concern eroding another barrier, wearing her down, "Thanks," she mumbled, her eyes downcast.
She took the clothing and her toiletry bag into the ensuite to change for bed. She washed her face, and then bent to swallow greedily at the cool water. It eased the pressure in her throat but sat heavily in her belly. Gripping the edge of the vanity she let her weight fall onto her hands, and she pressed her forehead to the surface of the mirror.
She tried to focus on the blur of too-close eyes staring back at her.
What was she doing?
Slowly she backed away, letting her face come into focus, and she studied the rim of red around her eyes, the blotchy skin of her cheeks. She hardly looked like the same carefree person that she'd seen reflected in the mirror of her apartment as she packed her moisturiser and mascara earlier that evening.
But, really, what had changed?
She blinked, reached for her toothbrush, and stepped to one side of the vanity while she brushed her teeth; avoiding the reflection in the mirror.
It was less than three nights ago that she'd hidden in his bathroom astounded by the realisation that she was ready to stop holding herself back from him – from what they could be together. She'd finally given herself permission to let him love her, and she'd made him the promise that she'd follow his lead.
Would he have led them safely through this if she hadn't bullied her way through his repeated requests to slow down? If his mother, out of love for her son, hadn't felt the need to slow their headlong plummet?
He had cherished every small step along their journey, taken careful hold of every piece of her that she'd handed into his care... and it was that thought which was the most terrifying.
She'd willingly given herself to him – and she didn't regret it.
Yet she was still making him fight for her; still demanding that he prove himself; justify his motives, provide evidence of his innocence.
What more was left for him to prove?
###
Rick sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the silence in the bathroom. She'd brushed her teeth, the water had run, toilet flushed, and now there was just silence. He was close to vetoing his own decision to give her time when the door finally opened and she stepped out, not smiling, but eyes clear and, if he had to name it, thoughtful.
They passed each other silently; Kate towards the bed, and Rick towards the bathroom.
He rushed through his bedtime routine; not wanting to give her too long alone with her thoughts, at least not so close to the door with the still very real potential for flight.
But when he finished, turned off the light and re-entered the bedroom, she was curled up in his bed. Waiting.
Kate lay on the centre of one pillow, neither on the edge nor toward the middle of the bed; a carefully neutral position that couldn't be taken as distance nor need for comfort.
As he climbed in beside her she rolled onto her side, facing him, one hand curled under her chin, the other tucked across her chest. She studied him, and Rick wished he had more words, or knew the correct order to string them in to take away her pain.
Kate took in the lines around his eyes, the tight press of his lips, and imagined her own expression was just as stark in its confusion and aching need for something; some sign or some clue as to where to go from here.
And then she remembered his words to her as they lay together amongst the pillows and cushions in his loungeroom.
Kate unfolded the arm from over her chest and slid her hand over the mattress until she found the warm skin of his stomach. She lifted her hand to skim up the length of his torso to settle on the curve of his chest.
"What aren't you afraid of anymore, Rick?"
He let out an unsteady breath, but his eyes shone with sudden hope.
"I'm not sure at the moment, the fear seeps into everything."
"No," she shook her head, "Don't start with that. You have to come back the other way."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she promised.
"Okay," he thought for a moment, his hand running along the length of her arm to rest on her elbow, "I'm not afraid to try," he said, eventually.
Her silent encouragement spurred him on, and he drew on the memories of certainty, of rightness, that he had felt when he'd woken with her in his arms. "I'm not afraid to wait for us. I'm not afraid of talking it through, of telling you everything; there's no power left to hurt us in words left unsaid."
As he spoke he realised that, in truth, there was very little that he was still afraid of. His worst nightmare had been realised, and she was still there, right in front of him, giving him another chance.
His relief must have shown on his face. Kate's expression lightened, she turned her cheek briefly into the pillow, and her hand tightened and released against his chest, as if she were snuggling in even though she remained an arms-length away.
"There's nothing between us now, Kate; no secrets, no fear of things kept hidden."
He could see her absorbing his words, the reassurance that they gave her, and when her shoulders tensed he knew what was coming next.
"What are you still afraid of?" she asked.
He was still afraid she wouldn't give them the same chance, afraid that mistakes of the past would rob them of their future, but, ultimately, he was afraid that all he had to give still wouldn't enough.
"You have to say it, Castle."
"I'm afraid that the hurt is too deep... I'm afraid that I'm not enough to get us through this."
"It can't just be up to you," she disagreed.
The tone of her voice gave nothing away, and he searched her face for meaning, questioning her with a quirk of his brow.
She remained stubbornly silent.
He ran his thumb along the inside of her arm, tried to wait her out, but as her gaze became more introspective he prompted her.
"What are you still afraid of, Kate?"
She kept her eyes on his when she replied, "I'm afraid we'll keep making mistakes."
"I'm afraid we won't get the chance to make more mistakes," he countered, his hand reaching her shoulder, his fingers curling around her.
The answering pressure of her fingers at his chest spurred him on.
"We both want the same thing, Kate. Can't we just try?"
.
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A/N- i really really need to say a huge thank you to the people that messaged me today to ask so very nicely where their update was! If it wasn't for the people that have reviewed this (and especially the 20-odd people that regularly review and say hi and natter along- you rock!) i would have decided Marlowe could have his angst and i'd have run for the hills looking for fluff and porny-porn or anything that wasn't THIS! Gah!
But, no, here i am. And i'm determined to get them back to the good times because i'm pretty sure i can do it more quickly than Marlowe. And it needs to happen now. NOW I TELL YOU! I want hand holding skipping through the corridors of the courthouse... or, if that's just not going to happen, i want Kate's love eyeballs back – stat!
So i will do my best to drag my broken shipper heart up off the floor and write write write. Feel free to send chocolate.