Prompt: Character A mourns character B's death.

This is going to need a trigger warning - death, addiction, mention of miscarriage.

Set after Castle's disappearance. He is found on the boat... but unfortunately, he doesn't make it.

Mourning

The hypocrisy hurt - biting down, like sharp teeth in soft flesh - as she poured herself another drink.

All those years of hating her father for turning to the bottle... and here she was, relying on the sweet escape of too much vodka to lull her off to sleep.

But he abandoned me... she tried to convince herself. Convince herself that her situation was different... that she wasn't abandoning anyone who needed her. Because the two women, sleeping soundly upstairs, sure as hell didn't need her. She wasn't their family... not without Castle. He was the beautiful bow that tied them all together. And now that he was gone... well, she felt like a stranger in her own home.

That right there... maybe that was the problem. She considered the loft her home... but it wasn't. It was his... theirs. She was nothing but an intrusion.

She had tried so hard to hold herself together after he disappeared. For Martha... for Alexis... for their friends and family who just didn't know how to talk to her anymore... but most importantly, for the new life that had been growing inside of her - the life that she had planned on telling him about as soon as he was home, safe and sound. But he never came home... not really.

The universe had cruelly taunted her... dangled hope in front of her only to rip it away. After two long and gruelling months, he had been found. She got to the hospital as soon as she could... but it - it was too late. Alexis' piercing blue eyes... well, that's a memory she would never forget - no matter how hard she tried.

She shot back the contents of the glass in front of her, welcoming the burning sensation that followed. Why was she tormenting herself? She didn't want to think about this... she just wanted to sleep. Because when she slept... when she dreamt, he was still here. Holding her, loving her. She poured another half glass, letting it slide down her throat in one quick gulp. If she closed her eyes, it felt like she was floating... that's how she knew she was close to where she needed to be.

Kate decided that the universe was one sinister son of a bitch on the day of the funeral, when it took the last part of Richard Castle away from her. She had made it through the day - playing her part, supporting Martha and Alexis through the service and wake, never once allowing herself to wallow in her own grief. She had assumed the waves of nausea were caused by her grief, begging to be felt, but by nightfall she knew that wasn't the case. Kate hadn't even realised that the unborn child had been her lifeboat - the only thing that was keeping her from drowning - until it was gone.

Now, almost a month later, she had all but given up. She was barely making it through the day at work, and would start on a bottle of... well, whatever was handy, the second she got home. Her only goal these days was to sleep, so that she could convince herself he was still here. But in order to sleep, she had to be numb.

She poured herself one last glass, before putting the bottle away for the night. At this point, the liquid went down as easy as a cool glass of water on a hot day. Her face was numb, except for a slight tingle in her lips, and her eyes were heavy with fatigue. She went to place the empty glass in the sink - she would wash it tomorrow - but her arms were weak and inelegant. She knocked the glass off the bench and it shattered at her feet.

Shit...

She crouched down, fumbling with the sharp shards surrounding her.

"Kate... are you okay?" the concerned voice filled the silence in the loft. She knew she had to answer, but the words weren't coming out.

"Fine... Alexis. Just dropped something." she groaned, knowing she had failed to hide the inebriation that clouded her voice.

"Let me help you." the girl said, appearing at Kate's side - low and ready to clean up the shards.

"I've got it." Kate snapped, frustrated that people felt the need to coddle her. She hurriedly reached across and snatched the piece of glass Alexis was reaching for. In her haste, she had managed she slice her palm on the glass. "Shit." she huffed, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Now can I help you?" Alexis, beginning to lose the patience she had been clinging too these past few weeks, held out the dustpan and brush that she had collected on her way to help... Kate begrudgingly nodded before moving out of the way.

Her head was still heavily clouded by the vodka and the sudden rush triggered by standing so quickly. She walked as far as she could manage - flopping clumsily onto the black leather couch.

"You need to clean this..." Alexis moved across the living room, grabbing the wounded hand gently and lifting it off of Kate's stomach before the blood had a chance to drip and stain her clothing. "Come on, get up."

The words weren't harsh, but authoritative. Kate groaned, but obeyed, following Alexis through to the en suite of the main bedroom. She sat on the closed lid of the toilet, watching in awe as Alexis dug through the basket of first aid supplies. In this moment - her mannerisms, her actions - she was so much like her dad. Kate smiled for a sweet but short moment, before the familiar twinge of guilt polluted her thoughts.

"I shouldn't be here..." the words slipped out before she had a chance to rethink them.

"It's your room... where else should you be?" Alexis tried to brush off the heaviness of Kate's statement. Finding an alcohol wipe and bandage, she placed the basket back in the vanity and began to clean up the wound. Kate hadn't given any further explanation to her earlier sentiments... but Alexis knew where her thoughts were headed. "Please... please don't leave us, too."

She could hear the pain in Alexis' voice - the same pain that was there when the girl had to be the one to inform her of Rick's death...

She pushed back the tears, biting her bottom lip to force it to stop trembling. Taking a shaky breath, she pushed forward, rising from the steady seat.

"You shouldn't..." she paused, to chose her words carefully. "I don't want you to see me like this. It's not your responsibility to have to make sure I'm okay... I should be looking after you - not the other way around." her voice was beginning to fail her, shaking and breaking as tears threatened to fall free from her eyes. "He wanted me to look after you both." her voice was barely a whisper.

"And you did, Kate. You took care of us both - you carried us when we could barely hold ourselves up. You were there for us when we were scared... and sad... and tired. You dealt with press so that we didn't have to." Alexis was shocked that Kate felt like she hadn't done enough... She felt guilty for not seeing that she had been struggling so much. "You've done so much for us. Please... let us help you."

Once Alexis was satisfied that the cut was clean and the bleeding had stopped, she covered the injury with the sterile bandage.

"Come on... bed." she gently instructed, helping the still uneasy woman walk toward the bed.

"I didn't want you to ever feel like you were alone." Kate offered up the explanation as she crawled into her side of the bed. "It's a dark road... when you're alone..." her words drifted off as she embraced the comfort of the bed. It dawned on Alexis that Kate understood the pain she was feeling more than anyone else could, having lost her mother at a similar age. And, while she didn't know the details, her father had alluded to the fact that Kate's father wasn't exactly someone she could lean on after that day. Kate had gone through this without anyone to lean on. Alexis wouldn't let her do that again.

"You're not alone, Kate. We're right here... you just have to let us in."