I think I replied to everyone's reviews last chapter... if I didn't, it's because I didn't actually get it because ff was being dumb. But thank you to all of you who attempted to leave a review. This is (finally) the last chapter for Rise, and because everyone seemed to love it the last time I did a chapter like this, I decided to throw one more into the mix. Enjoy!
Rise (Part VI)
"Do you, umm, want to read more?" Kate asked hesitantly, lifting her hazel eyes to Castle's blue ones.
He shrugged slightly, reached for the journal again. "I guess so."
"No not..." she caught his arm, stopped him. "Not that. From me, actually... there's another letter I wrote right about that time."
His eyes widened, sparkling with curiosity and excitement. "Really?"
Kate nodded, smiled tentatively. "Yeah. I can get it if you want."
"Yeah sure, if you want me to read it."
She sat up, slipped out of his arms. "I think it'd be good for us."
"Okay."
She crossed to the same wooden box, extracted a third sheet of paper, this time from the very bottom, buried beneath all the other contents of the box. This one was folded multiple times, as though she'd attempted to hide it, to distance herself as much as possible from her words.
Before his brain had a chance to conjure up various explanations, she was climbing back into bed, arranging herself on her side facing him. She gingerly unfolded the paper, smoothing out the creases almost absent-mindedly with her index finger.
She held it out to him slowly. "I haven't read this since I wrote it. I don't... I don't even remember what it says, but it's to you as well."
Castle nodded in understanding, took the sheet from her, rotating it so they both could read it and be pulled down into the swirling maelstrom of her emotions from one of the most difficult times of her life.
Dear Castle,
I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to be writing, but my therapist told me I should. He said it would help me sort out my feelings, and they're definitely a mess right now. I feel silly writing to myself, and since I wrote to you a while ago and it was kind of cathartic, I guess I'll write to you again. Not that you'll ever read this.
I suppose I should start by telling you that I went back to therapy today, to the department psychologist who cleared me to return to the precinct. I'm not sure exactly what prompted me to seek him out, but I think it was you – when I told you I was fine and you told me I wasn't. It caught me off guard, because I'm not used to being called out. I'm used to hiding away my problems and putting on a mask for the world to see. After all, I wouldn't have made it through the academy if I'd worn my emotions on my sleeve.
But you always have been able to see right through that, so I guess it shouldn't surprise me that you saw through me yesterday, too. You've always managed to bring out all these things I try to keep beneath the surface, and it used to irritate me to no end. It still does, at times – for example, when I end up sobbing in my apartment about the pathetic state of my life. But I realized amidst all of that that I was wrong; everybody's not gone. You're still here. You're here and you're waiting for me, and that's how I knew I needed to do something. I needed to get my head on straight so I could be strong enough to be there for you, too, to do for you what you've done for me.
I thought I could handle being back. I left my dad's cabin two weeks early, forced myself back into the city, back into the world. I tried to ignore the fact that the sun was too bright and the traffic was too loud and every glint off a reflective surface made me flinch. I just gritted my teeth and forced myself through the day thinking that if I faked it long enough, I would actually be okay again and maybe all of my problems would just vanish into thin air.
I even managed to clear my psych eval on the first try, though I wasn't even close to honest with Dr. Burke. I told him the same thing I told you – that I didn't remember anything. I knew if I told him the truth he'd ask me to relive it, and I couldn't do that. Not when I already do every night in my dreams. It's so bittersweet, because the most terrifying and painful moment of my life is mixed in with the sweetest words I've ever heard you say, and it's a horribly heartbreaking combination. I thought that maybe if I lied enough, I would eventually believe it. But the joke was on me, because there's no way I'll ever forget.
And there's no way I would want to. Forget your words, that is.
I heard them again yesterday, though not in the same way. When the suspect pulled a gun on me and I hesitated, you were there to talk me down. I'm not sure what I would have done without you there, and you have no idea how thankful I am for what you did for me. You told me to calm down, kept saying 'you've got this.' In my mind, I could hear your voice from the cemetery, your words giving me strength in the same way.
That, I think, more than anything else, is what motivated me to come back to therapy. Your words and your love.
It was difficult for me today. I almost talked myself out of going more times than I can count. I hate talking about my feelings and my past and everything that gets dredged up during therapy. I hate it. It's horrible and painful and exhausting. But you made me realize that I needed to go, not only because of what happened on the job, but because of the ways my past is holding me back.
I told you on the swings that I have a wall, and that the only way for it to come down is for me to solve this case. Once I do that, I'll be able to have the type of relationship I'm looking for. I know I'm not open enough yet. I know I hold myself back, and that's why none of my relationships ever stand a chance.
But I want more now. I want to be with you and I don't want my issues to get in the way of things. I don't want to ruin it for us, because you're different. What we have is different. It's more. It's better. And I'd never forgive myself if we got together now and my issues ended up tearing us apart. I want us to have a fighting chance.
So I came back to work early and dove back into the case, because the sooner I solve it, the sooner that wall falls down. But I realize now that I need more than that. I need to be okay mentally, too, if things are ever going to work out between us. I need to be confident in my job. I need to not have nightmares, not wake up sweating and panting and shaking and terrified. I need to be able to walk around without flinching at everything. I need to be able to stand on my own two feet again with my head held high.
I know you're willing to wait for me, and I'm incredibly grateful for that, so I'm going to take advantage of this time you're giving me to make myself better. No matter how much grueling therapy it takes, no matter how many random letters I have to write, I'm going to do it.
You deserve it, Castle. We do.
Love,
Kate
"You are incredible," Castle murmured in awe.
"What?"
"You went to therapy for me. For us. I had no idea."
She shrugged as though it were no big deal.
"Your strength amazes me," he pushed, unwilling to let her pass it off as insignificant. "I love you so much."
She slid the letter from his grasp, folded it and set it on the nightstand on top of their journal. Castle was right behind her, wrapping himself around her, enclosing her in his warmth. She settled back against him, released a shaky breath, felt him press his lips to the back of her neck in reassurance.
Kate shivered against him, allowed her eyes to flicker closed. "I love you too."
Thoughts?
