Chapter 38: Tough Questions

Previously…

Castle follows Kate out of the small bedroom, his fingers barely touching hers by the time they approach the foot of the big old bed in her parents' former room. Sparks of electricity leap off the tips of his fingers every time they brush or connect with Kate's warm skin. He tugs her back against his chest before they can go any further, letting go of her hand completely so that he can wrap his arms around her body from behind, holding her close.

"You do know I will never use anything private between us in my novels?" he murmurs intently, nuzzling his nose in against her soft, fragrant neck.

Kate bites her lip and nods. She lightly bumps her head off Castle's where is rests alongside hers. "Yeah, I know," she says lightly, wrapping her arms around his and squeezing, so that he holds her even tighter.

"Good. I'm glad. Because that's important."

Kate nods again before allowing her head to drop back against her partner's shoulder in a tired gesture of surrender.

"We'll figure this out, Kate," he promises, kissing her hair. "Rome wasn't built in a day. But we'll get there."

She turns around so that they're facing one another and then she smiles up at him, her gaze trusting and open once more. "What did you want those matches for anyway?"

"Uh…candles," he admits, grinning sheepishly, arching his eyebrows at her in hopeful suggestion.

Kate chuckles quietly and shakes her head. "I must have found the most romantic man in the whole of New York," she notes, running her hands up over his well-defined chest.

Castle watches her quiet, determined worship of his body with something close to wonder, his heart beginning to pound in his chest as she toys with the collar of his shirt. "Is that a complaint? Beckett, is that a complaint?" he teases, tweaking her sides with tickling fingers until she squirms in his embrace and squeals with laughter.

Kate finally worms her way out of his grasp to hold him at arm's length. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes bright from laughing. "We will work this out," she promises, growing serious for a moment. "I'll get better at this…at sharing. Just give me time?" she asks, leaning in to brush her lips against his in a kiss full of reassurance, one that also asks for his forgiveness.

"I have no doubt," agrees Castle, slowly walking her backwards towards the bed.

Half an hour later...

"So…"

Castle's conversation opener is quiet, but drawn out enough that Kate feels it rumbling through his chest as much as she hears it hovering in the warm air of the bedroom, despite being close to sleep as she lies on top of him.

He strokes her shoulder when he speaks again, fingertips brushing feather-soft over her skin and down her arm. "Did you sleep in here when— Or…or in your old room?"

Kate raises her head from his warm chest to look at him, letting her chin rest on her flattened hands. Her hair frames her flushed face in a halo of tight, damp curls. Several strands are pasted to her left temple where her skin is marked by a crisscross pattern of temporary creases. She looks younger by years with such a pink glow in her cheeks and a warm, bright light in her eyes.

"In here," she replies, looking around the room for a second, acutely remembering what it felt like to be here alone and grieving for the man laying beneath her during her self-imposed isolation. "Dad insisted. Why?"

Castle nods. His head is pillowed on his arms, biceps huge and exposed in the pale light coming in through the open windows. Veins cross the impressive mass of bunched muscle and a dusting of dark hair is exposed beneath each armpit; both features Kate only discovered in the last couple of days, discoveries she finds intensely masculine and erotically appealing.

Candles flicker all around the room, tiny votives glittering on almost every flat surface, throwing large, perpetually moving shadows up onto the exposed roof beams and milky white plaster.

"No reason. Just…trying to imagine."

Kate slips on a smile for him. She understands how much this plagues him: the not knowing, the missed opportunity to help, to be there for her as she struggled to rebuild herself on the back of a near-death experience. Coupled with his own period of miserable, desperate isolation, she's not surprised he still has a need to fill in the blanks with concrete detail and maybe improve on his own imagined version of that time with a little cold, hard truth.

Leaving him to believe that she was still with Josh all those weeks may have been her biggest mistake. Had their situations been reversed and Gina had still been in the picture to play nursemaid— Actually, scratch that, she thinks with an inner smile of satisfaction. Gina would never have played nursemaid to anyone, no matter how sick or close to death. It's just not her thing.

She forces her mind back onto issues that loom over their present, looking for a way to make two distant ends meet, hunting for inspiration. It doesn't take long to strike.

"Did you ever want to go back? In life, I mean? To correct a mistake, change a decision?" she asks him, biting her lip as she awaits his answer.

"We're not talking synonyms here or altering a plot in one of my books?" he guesses, reading the serious expression on Kate's face.

She shakes her head.

"Of course. Lots of times. But you just...can't," sighs Castle, reaching down to peel a lock of drying hair off her face and then curl it round behind her ear.

"I know," agrees Kate. "So, the best offer anyone can make under those circumstances is a wish to try. The knowledge that given the chance they would make different choices."

"I suppose. Yes," agrees Castle, after a moment's consideration.

"Well, that's me," she admits, giving him a tentative smile. "And I think the same goes for my dad too."

Castle's ears prick up at the mention of her dad. He's watched Kate do this in the past – she gets angry when he pushes to get access to her private life, vehemently insisting that it's none of his business. But the more time she has to calm down and think about something, the less under pressure from him she feels, the more quickly she comes round, eventually becoming willing, almost eager to explain or to share. It's as if they are both basically incapable of denying the other anything for very long – he: forgiveness, and she: a key to her life history, since that's what Castle always seems to crave the most.

"When he gave me that sobriety chip, I'd seen him a total of three times in the space of ten months. Once was at an older cousin's funeral with family all around. No chance to talk about anything. Which I was glad of," Kate adds, turning her head to the side to rest her ear against Castle's chest and listen to his heartbeat for a few seconds. "I was so angry with him."

"And the second time?" asks Castle, stroking his hand over her hair, massaging her scalp with his fingers.

"I caught a drug dealer. Twenty-three year old, mid-level player narcotics had been after for a while."

"Go, Beckett!" says Castle, clearly impressed.

"Actually, it was kind of a fluke. I busted the guy for an out-standing bench warrant. Nonappearance on a DUI. He ran a stop sign near a school and there I was. Anyway, they got their guy and I got a commendation. It made the papers and my dad showed up at the Precinct to congratulate me."

"Well, that was nice," offers Castle, hoping for a happy story.

"Mm," hums Kate, noncommittally, before adding, "Except for the part where I told the desk sergeant to send him away, pretend I was out on patrol."

"Oh," nods Castle, remembering all the times he wished he could have hidden when Martha showed up unannounced at his school in one of her outlandish costumes, and the rest of the class would tease him mercilessly about his drama queen of a mother.

"Yeah. I left a half hour later thinking the coast would be clear."

Castle covers his eyes with his hand, already wincing. "No. Oh, no, tell me you didn't—"

Kate nods, her cheeks growing warm again at the memory of that hideously awkward moment, witnessed by a couple of her peers from squad and her training officer no less. "He was waiting for me out front. Rick, the look on his face," bemoans Kate, shaking her head. "I think that's the first time Royce realized how good a liar I could be. Guess I never looked back," she admits dryly, giving Castle a knowing look.

"Yeah, well, you're a reformed liar now by all accounts," he offers, tracing his thumb down the outside of her arm.

Kate is still lying draped on top of him, but suddenly that feels like too far away. He wants her next to him where he can hold her properly.

"Hey, how about you come up here beside me?" he asks, patting the pillow next to him.

"Am I too heavy for you?" challenges Kate, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she shifts her naked hips against Castle's, her breasts brushing against his sternum.

"No," he replies, with exaggerated patience, knowing full well that she doesn't believe that's the case for a second. "I want you beside me, Detective. Is that too much to ask?"

Kate rolls off the writer and then crawls up the bed to lie down beside him. She squeals when he takes her by surprise, wrapping his arms and legs around her and rolling them both onto their sides so that they're spooning. Kate goes limp in his arms, little energy left and no desire to fight him anyway. Spooning with Richard Castle just soared close to the top of her 'Favorite Things To Do' list.

"Tell me about the third him you met your dad before he gave you that chip?" he whispers, once they're still again, his chin nestled in the slope of her shoulder.

"What do I get if I share?" she asks, surprising him with this lighter, more playful mood.

"What would you like?"

"Can I think about it?"

Castle grins against her skin and dips his head to press his lips to her bare shoulder. "Sure," he rasps, his voice a little gravelly. "Just let me know what you decide. The Ferrari is in the shop right now just…by the way."

"Your car?" asks Kate in surprise. "You think I want your car?" she laughs.

Castle frowns, looking puzzled by her reaction. "You don't? The boys usually—"

"Yes, the boys. I was thinking more along the lines of—"

Kate turns her head slightly to whisper her dirty suggestion into Castle's ear. Her lips brush the soft plumpness of his lobe and a shiver shoots through him.

His cheeks are warm when he replies, "I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you instead of them."

Kate pinches the soft skin at his waist beneath the covers for that remark, but instead of fighting her off or squirming out of the way, he engulfs her with his own body, towering over her as she now lies flat on her back gazing up at him.

"You're so hot, you know that?" he murmurs, letting his eyes drift closed for a microsecond when she runs her foot up the back of his calf and he feels his body begin to respond to her caress.

He hasn't exactly been completely out of action the whole time they've been lying in bed recovering from their make-up session on the bearskin rug in front of the bedroom hearth. He's never been particularly slow to recover after sex, but the last couple of days have been insane; like some kind of miracle. It's as if being near Kate Beckett has extreme life giving properties akin to the swimming pool in the movie 'Cocoon'. He hardly gets soft at all when they're in bed together and sometimes just thinking about her… Well, he's going to have to be careful at the precinct from now on, that's for sure.

He pins her arms above her head, pressing soft kisses to the pale, vulnerable underside of each wrist in turn while she squirms beneath him, occasionally emitting little moans of delight which only turn him on more. When he switches his attention to her right wrist, he suddenly pauses, turning her arm gently to get a better look.

"What's this?" he asks, running the tip of his finger along a three-inch scar that follows the line of her radius.

Kate watches his progress as he traces the recently healed mark. She manages to swallow her ingrained urge to just yank her arm out of his grasp and tell him to mind his own business or simply get up out of bed and walk away; to hide from this.

But she isn't that person anymore, and Castle always deserved better from her anyway.

"Remember the sniper case? Few months back."

"Yeaaah." Castle's eyes flick up from admiring her slender wrist to lock with hers.

"You were…you were really good about not hovering. I was so grateful. But I know you noticed…something. That I was struggling."

"You got through," he says lightly, leaving it up to Kate if she wants to share more.

"Mm, thanks to Javi. And you."

"Hey, I didn't do anything."

"And that was exactly what I needed from you then. You've no idea how much you backing off helped."

"Sounds kinda weird. 'Thanks for not helping'," parrots Castle, making air quotes with his fingers.

"Yeah, well…sometimes I just—"

Kate sits up in bed, tenting her knees beneath the covers. She picks at a white feather poking out of the quilt, pulling it out by the calamus before letting it float to the floor.

Castle eases up to a sitting position beside her, rearranging the pillows behind them. "What? Tell me," he asks gently.

"I needed space and you gave it to me without me having to ask. That's what makes everything I did last summer seem so…so stupid."

"What does that have to do with the scar on your arm? Kate?"

Kate shakes her head, shrugging off a painful flash of reminiscence. "Hmm? Oh, that. I…I was still in a pretty dark place. So a sniper… That was the last thing I needed. Well, until I worked out that hunting down Lee Travis was exactly what I needed."

"But…I don't understand. How did you get the scar? You talked Travis down until they shot him at the scene."

"You knew I was drowning, Castle. You could a see it. PTSD in those circumstances? With a sniper on the loose? I wasn't coping…not remotely. There were panic attacks. I was…I was reacting to every loud noise, every flash of light. I felt completely out of control. One night in my apartment I started drinking."

Castle swallows loudly, his mouth suddenly dry. "And?" he presses, quietly, trying to keep his voice under control.

"Someone knocked on my door," she says, frowning, remembering, a little breathless. "I think. There was a noise anyway. It was confusing. I was startled…scared."

"Who was it? Did you answer?"

Kate shakes her head no. "I kept having these flashbacks. But they looked so real. I…I broke a bottle, slipped on some glass going for my gun."

"Oh, Kate," commiserates Castle, kissing her forehead and then hugging her close.

"Castle, I felt hunted," she whispers against his neck, her voice breaking.

"And that's how you got this?" he asks, lifting her wrist again to inspect the long, thin scar.

"Mm-hmm," she hums, watching with tears clogging her throat as he presses tiny, tender kisses along the line of recently healed skin whose new pink color is already fading to a silvery white.

"Why didn't you—? Kate, you should have called me. I'd have dropped everything…been there for you."

Kate gives him a watery smile and then she nods. "I know you would have," she whispers, cupping his cheek with her hand, smoothing her thumb beneath his eye as she watches him, tears threatening behind her eyes.

"So…why?"

"I've never been a sharer, Castle. You know that. And if news of my PTSD had gotten out…I'd have been back to square one. No gun, no badge, weeks and weeks of therapy until I could be cleared for duty—"

She raises her eyes to look right at him when she adds, "And no you," grimly, after the briefest of pauses.

Castle puts his arm around her shoulder and tucks her into his side, resting her head against his temple. "Kate, I was only at the Precinct for you. Not the job, not for the guys, and though I'm ashamed to admit it, not even for the victims. I was there for you and you alone. Maybe in the beginning it was different, about more than that. About research and the books. But not after you came back. Not after that day at my book signing when you came to find me and we talked on the swings."

Kate nods several times, acknowledging what he's just said.

"Those flashbacks—"

Kate already knows what he's going to ask, so she offers the information without making him work for it. "My shooting, yes," she confirms. "Like a jerky slideshow…images would come and go. Dark images, a lot of noise. Like static only much louder. It was all in my head, I know. But it seemed so real at the time, so…frightening."

"Did you—? I mean could you see…? Was there any detail?"

Kate chews her lip. "Castle, let's not pretend we both don't already know that part of the reason I couldn't ask for your help was…I would have been caught in a lie."

"So…the cemetery. You saw flashes of that? Of being shot?"

This time Kate doesn't reply. She just nods to indicate that he's right on the money.

"And after. When you were on the ground?"

"All of it," she admits grimly. "The ambulance ride, the hospital corridor..."

"I could still have helped."

"I didn't deserve your help."

"I don't believe you set out to hurt me. You didn't get up one morning after you were shot and think, how can I cause Castle maximum pain?"

"No! Of course not."

"Then…I could have helped you, Kate."

She turns to look at him, her knees falling into his lap beneath the covers, his thighs warm against her own skin. "You're so good. So kind. I'm lucky to have found you," she says, palming his cheek.

"We're both lucky."

"And I promise, if anything like that ever happens again, I will call."

"Honestly?"

"Rick, you have my word. I need you. I'm not afraid to admit that anymore. It's like Dr. Burke says: asking for help is a sign of strength not a weakness."

"Smart man."

"Yeah," agrees Kate, settling in against him once more.

Something else had begun to trouble Castle after their earlier discussion and he decides that now is as good a time as any to ask.

"That night…" he begins tentatively.

"Mm?" hums Kate, snuggled into his side, her eyes drifting closed.

"At your apartment. When you were alone…drinking."

He feels her stiffen a little against him, but he needs to ask this. It's important.

"Do you ever worry…about addiction?"

"You mean am I like my dad?"

"There are theories," says Castle, hating every excruciating second of this, but pushing on anyway.

"Inherited addiction," nods Kate. "I know. Children of addicts are eight times more likely to develop an addiction of their own," she parrots, as if reading the statistic off from somewhere.

"I don't mean to be offensive or—"

"You're not. It's something I thought about too…in the beginning, back when we were both drowning in grief and were no use to each other. But my dad's drinking was situational. A…a reaction to loss."

"Did you…did Dr. Burke help you understand that?"

"It came up. But I'm not worried. My dad never drank much before. He…he reacted to a…to a trigger, used alcohol as a way to numb the pain."

"Makes sense." Castle's done the same thing on occasion, though not to any sustained extent, so he has enormous sympathy for her dad.

Kate shrugs. "I was lucky…chose to thrown myself into the job instead."

A job that came with an extreme price, thinks Castle, though he keeps this thought to himself.

"I just…sometimes I feel as if I failed him as much as he failed me. I used to imagine my mom looking down on us, shaking her head in disgust. One test, and instead of being a family and pulling together, we just blew apart."

"Kate, your mother was murdered," Castle reminds her gently. "That's a lot more than a test. A situation like that…some people never recover from that kind of loss. The fact that you're both still here says a lot. It says you pulled through in the end. You're both in pretty good shape considering. You should be proud of your dad."

She nods. "I am. He fought his demons on his own. He's where he is today because he put in the work. Still does."

"And so have you. Seeing you now…how far you've come. I'm so proud of you, Kate. And your mom would be too," he assures her, pressing a compassionate kiss against her hair.

TBC...

Note: A poignant chapter addressing some big issues that we've never heard these characters talk about. There will be more fun during their mini-vacation, I promise. :)