ALL I CAN SEE
SEASONS 3 AND 4
I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel
Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough
Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol
She doesn't realize it until she almost loses him.
The summer without him had been hell for her - and everyone around her, according to Lanie. And she finally has him back, at least at work, and their friendship is almost back on solid ground. It's taken a few months, but it's there.
And then she realizes too late that he and Ryan are with someone who they don't know is a serial killer, and she panics.
Not about Tyson, not completely. Although that guilt will gnaw at her for a long time, especially if - when - he kills again.
She does panic about Ryan, her friend, who's about to start a life with someone he is head over heels in love with. He hasn't said he wants to propose to his girlfriend, but it's only a matter of time.
But most of her panic is reserved for Rick. The civilian who shouldn't have even been at the motel, who's managed to worm his way into her heart. Who makes her smile with every cup of coffee, every terrible joke, and who she'd missed terribly during the summer.
It's the fear as she peels into the motel parking lot, the panic that he might not be alive. That she'll have to tell his family that she'd missed the clues and sent him to his grave, that his death was her fault.
She's so relieved when she sees him, tied up but okay, that she almost kisses him on the mouth, right in front of everyone.
But she doesn't. She has a boyfriend and he has a girlfriend, so she doesn't. She settles for whispering her gratitude at the back of his head as she unties him.
Once he's free he goes outside, and she watches his broad shoulders slump once he's downstairs. Her gaze follows him to the pool area, where he sits on a bench, a blanket pulled around his shoulders.
She's struck with the feeling that she should be with him instead of helping process the room, so she taps on Esposito's shoulder, tells him she'll be outside.
She ignores the knowing look he gives her.
There's no lobby and the desk clerk is less than helpful, so she ducks into the convenience store across the street for a hot chocolate. It's nothing like the gourmet cocoa he's made her on occasion, but she hopes the gesture will be appreciated.
Considering he'd once bought fifteen different types of takeout to cheer her up, a cheap hot chocolate is the least she can do.
She takes a chance and puts her hand on his knee, hopes that he doesn't take it the wrong way, and that he realizes that it's meant to be a comforting gesture. Judging by the way his hand covers her with a gentle squeeze, she thinks he understands.
It isn't until much later, when she cries herself to sleep in her quiet and empty apartment, that she realizes she might love him.
It's been such a whirlwind couple of weeks, that she doesn't even know what to do with herself when she has a moment alone. Even in the bathroom, she'd greeted the mayor's wife while standing in line, shared a few brief words with Jenny as they washed their hands.
She's grateful for this, truly she is, but it's overwhelming.
Shaking hands and schmoozing isn't something she's ever had to do at great lengths, especially at a formal affair.
The thought of going back out there and rubbing elbows with some of New York's elite has her palms sweating and knees trembling. So she turns away from the party upon her exit from the bathroom, searching for a quiet corner where she can hide for a minute, and finds a storage closet.
She manages to just calm the rapid beat of her heart when there's a quiet rap on the door.
"Kate?"
Much to her own surprise, she's relieved that he found her, even if it does mean that her time to be alone is cut short. But she's glad it's him, and not someone else.
Not her boyfriend, who'd cancelled at the last minute because he'd volunteered to work a double shift.
The bitterness rises in her chest and she reminds herself once again that his dedication to his job is one reason she'd been attracted to him. It allows her to keep one foot out the door, to make a clean break when the time comes.
But now, as she opens the door to her partner's concerned gaze, she wonders why the hell she's wasting her time with another man.
His eyes roam her face for a moment before he joins her, and shuts the door behind him. He doesn't crowd her, just leans against the door with his hands in the pockets of his well-fitted tux.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice barely more than a rumble.
She nods. "I just needed a minute."
He curses under his breath and he curls his fingers around the doorknob. "I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone."
"No," she interrupts, surprising both of them when she grabs his bicep.
His thick, well-defined bicep.
Her cheeks burn and she drops her hand. "I don't mind that you're here," she admits with a shrug.
He offers her a subtle lift of his lips. "'kay. What can I do for you?"
She takes a deep breath, her exhale more of a sigh. "Just…" She pauses and sighs again. "Maybe when we go back out, you can stay with me?"
"You got it."
She almost runs her hands through her hair, remembers at the last minute that it's in a fancy updo, insteads flails her hands as she paces in the tiny room. She catches a glance of him out of the corner of her eye, and she stops moving when she notices his smirk.
"What?" She doesn't mean to snap, but judging by the fraction of a frown that appears on his face, it comes out harsher than she intends. She reaches out and pats his arm in comfort.
God, she could do that all day.
"Sorry. I didn't mean that." She takes a deep breath and nods, steeling herself for the upcoming onslaught of socializing. "Okay, I'm good."
"You sure?" His brows furrow in concern. When she nods, he turns and starts to open the door.
On an impulse she grabs his forearm this time, and when he turns back to look at her, she loops her arms around his neck and presses herself against him.
Obviously her hug takes him by surprise, because it takes him a few seconds to respond, but once he does, she smiles into his shoulder. They don't hug often, but every time they do, she wonders why they don't do it more.
He's a great hugger.
Eventually she sighs and takes a step back, pulling herself from his embrace, immediately missing his warm body against hers. When she can see his face again, she's glad to see he's smiling.
"What was that for?" he asks in a gravelly voice.
She just shrugs and smiles. "Just…thank you. For all of this. Calling your friends, setting up the scholarship, the event. It's a lot. And I'm so grateful. I don't know how I could ever repay you."
He lifts his hand and stops, hesitates, just stares at her with his hand hovering in the air for a few moments before dropping it to his side. "It's my pleasure, Kate."
She almost tells him, then. But something stops her. Maybe it's the sound of the party drifting down the hall, maybe it's her shoes starting to hurt her feet. Whatever it is, she just offers him a grateful smile, takes his offered arm, and re-enters the party without another word.
Weeks pass, and she says nothing. She wants to, she almost does when they're gazing at each other on a couch in Los Angeles, but something always stops her.
But then, as she's bleeding out on the grass at her captain's funeral, he tells her.
A moment later she loses consciousness, and when she sees him the next day, she can't bring herself to acknowledge it. She has too many conflicting thoughts and feelings. And then she ignores him for two months.
She's not surprised that he's mad when she returns. She had been, too, when he'd disappeared the previous summer with his then on-again-girlfriend-slash-ex-wife.
Despite the raw hurt she sees in his eyes sometimes, despite her therapy and figuring out just who the hell she is without her mom's case, he stays by her side. Even when she does everything she can to push him away.
Like send him on a date with another woman.
Okay, she knows it isn't technically a date, but a distraction so she and Esposito can search Serena Kaye's room. But she'd be damned if it doesn't sting a little when she walks out of the room to see Castle pinning the blonde against the wall with his tongue down her throat.
He's right, of course, she admits to herself - and only to herself - when she calms down later. He kissed Serena to try and prevent them from being caught. But she's still mad at him.
She overhears Serena's parting words to Castle after they solve the case, words that stop her in her tracks as she pretends to walk away.
I don't steal things that belong to someone else.
As they slide into their regular booth at Remy's and order their usual burgers, fries, and shakes, she can't help but wonder if she's really that obvious. She's only been back for a few short weeks, not even close to being able to handle a relationship on top of everything else.
There's still part of her that relives the hangar when she looks at him or hears his voice. He carried her out, and Roy died. Maybe if she'd stayed, Roy would still be alive, and she wouldn't have a healing scar in the middle of her chest. Or maybe she would have died alongside her captain.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
They make small talk as they wait for their food, but they don't have to wait long, and they tuck into their burgers almost in unison.
As usual, Castle finishes his fries first, and also as usual, he gazes at her plate with his wide puppy dog eyes.
Since her shooting her appetite has been lower, so once she finishes her burger she's almost full, and just picks at her fries. She picks one up, dips it in the honey mustard, bites the end off, puts the rest of the fry down. She does that for several minutes, until she finally has enough.
She glances up at him and smirks at the outright pathetic look on his face.
His face lights up when she pushes her plate closer to him. "I'm done," she lies, turning it so the fries are closer to him. She's not, she could easily finish the plate. But he looks so happy, she finds herself grinning with him. If someone were to ask her why she's smiling, she wouldn't have a specific answer. She just...is.
Her stress and worries fade away in his presence, and she feels herself relax fully for the first time since her shooting. He seems to have that effect on her, and even when he teases her about modeling nude in college, she just chuckles.
Even though it's her turn to pay, he tries to grab the bill. But she's too fast, snatches it out from under him, feels her face warm when their fingers touch. She glances at his face, notices the subtle darkening of his eyes, but she doesn't say anything, just hands her card to the waitress.
"Can I tempt you with a nightcap?" he asks her as they walk out.
Oh, it is tempting. It's still fairly early, and all she has waiting for her is paperwork and then a lonely, empty apartment. She opens her mouth to accept, but before she can say anything her phone rings, interrupting her.
A glance at the display shows dispatch, and she sighs in disappointment. "Maybe next time," she promises, showing him the screen. "You up for another case? Or should I just call you if it's interesting?"
His mouth turns up in a smile. "Lead the way, Detective."
She thought she was making progress. Therapy's been going well, her scars are healing, she almost has her full range of motion back, save for the scar on her side that tugs at the most inconvenient times. She and Castle are in a good place.
And then a sniper takes the city hostage.
She knows she pulls away from him, but she can't help it. It's her defense mechanism, and she's working on it, working on not forcing herself to be strong all the time. She's trying to learn that it's okay to lean on others sometimes, especially if that person has told her how he feels.
Even if she hasn't told him back.
She barely sleeps the night after they solve the case, but she's not surprised. She's mentally and physically exhausted, but even after she cleans up the spilled liquor and broken glass, she's wide awake when her alarm cuts through the early morning calm.
Castle would say it's unnecessary, that she doesn't need to do anything as a thanks for his support, even through the hell that was the case. As she crosses the street to her cruiser, though, she spots a storefront that makes her grin.
Perfect.
She has a brief moment of panic when she realizes she doesn't know for sure whether she'll see him today, but her worries subside when he steps out of the elevator just a few minutes after she does.
She's already at her desk, booting up her computer, when she recognizes his footsteps, hears them falter behind her. He steps to the side of her desk, and she glances up, smirks when she sees the coffee cups in his hands.
"Did I miss a text?" he asks, putting one of the cups on her desk and tugging his phone from his pocket. She surprises both of them when her hand lands on his wrist. "No," she assures him, "I stopped on a whim. I figured we could both use the extra caffeine."
His eyes soften as he gazes at her, and he sets his phone down, lowers himself into his chair. He takes a sip of the coffee she's provided and his smile widens. "Thanks, Beckett," he says around the cup.
She reaches for the cup he'd brought for her, doesn't miss the knowing sparkle in his eye. When she takes a sip she has to stop herself from moaning.
He really does bring the best coffee she's ever had.
"Thank you, Rick," she says quietly when she puts the cup down. His brow quirks, and she almost says it. It's on the tip of her tongue, but she can't form the words.
So she just taps her cup against his and gives him a shy smile, her cheeks warming. "For everything," she continues. "Thank you."
The smile he gives her just makes her fall for him even more.
Something's been off for weeks. He claims that he's fine; at least he did when she asked him a couple weeks ago. But he's pulled away, barely says two words to her outside of a case, and the only time he's brought her coffee was to ask her about Slaughter.
Slaughter.
Even the briefest thought of the poor excuse for the detective makes her lip curl. He's a brute, he almost got her partner killed, and she could have lost her job. Should have, according to Gates. She's lucky to get away with a 3 day suspension.
And, despite that, Castle still won't talk to her.
She should have let him deal with Slaughter himself.
Why the hell has he pulled away? What the hell did she do?
More accurately, she wonders on suspension day two, as she finishes off a bottle of wine, what didn't she do?
If he would talk to her for more than three seconds, if he would respond to any of her texts asking to talk, maybe she could actually figure it out. But he won't.
So she opens another bottle of wine - one he'd brought over, she notices - and takes a long swig, foregoing a glass this time.
The timing isn't lost on her that he seems to be done with her as soon as she's decided that she's ready to start something with him. She shakes her head and takes another drink.
They have terrible timing, as usual.
Freaking typical.
She grabs her phone and pulls up his contact page, her finger hovering over the delete button.
If he's done with her, she won't be happy, but she'll respect it.
She pauses, considers.
They've been through too much for it to end like this.
Haven't they?
The first time she says it, it's almost an accident.
He's lying with his head on her chest, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as they come down from their release. She's still breathing hard, his body moving with hers, and she feels his breath waft over her bare skin.
When she'd showed up, unannounced and uninvited, she'd expected him to tell her he never wanted to see her again, and shut the door in her face. But instead he'd kissed her back, lowered her to his bed, and had her crying out with pleasure in minutes.
She's exhausted from everything: three days without sleep, the fight on a rooftop, the amazing sex. Her emotions are all over the place. She needs to rest, but she can't bring herself to fall asleep, not yet. She's enjoying this feeling too much, of her and Castle in each other's arms.
"I love you."
He freezes when the words slip out, and her fingers still. He props his chin on her sternum and looks at her, his bright blue eyes almost unreadable. If she didn't know him as well as she does, she wouldn't see it.
The relief.
He drops his mouth to the scar between her breasts, brushes his lips against it before shifting to hover over her, his elbows supporting his body. One hand lifts to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and he presses a soft kiss to her mouth.
"I love you, too," he murmurs. He shifts again and trails his hand down her side, his fingers pausing when he reaches the long, jagged scar below her ribs.
He'd done the same thing earlier, with both of her scars from her shooting, and like earlier she watches his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, of regret. As he kneels above her, though, he gazes at her like she's the only other person in the world.
And maybe, for a few hours, she is.
She sits up, smirks at the darkening of his eyes when they drop to her bare chest, and she loops her arms around his neck.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs against his mouth as she presses her lips to his, repeating her whispered words from earlier. "I'm sorry I lied to you," she adds, "and that I pushed you away."
"I won't apologize for trying to keep you safe," he rumbles before his teeth nip at her bottom lip.
She shakes her head as his tongue slides against hers. "And I won't apologize for pursuing the case." She leans back so she can look in his eyes. "It was the right decision at the time," she argues, seeing his eyes narrow.
He doesn't agree, she can tell. And maybe if he hadn't walked out of her apartment, if she hadn't let him leave, maybe she wouldn't have been thrown off a damn roof.
But maybe she wouldn't be here.
Maybe she would have found another excuse not to say anything, or do anything.
She shakes her head to clear that thought, runs her fingers through his hair when he gives her an inquisitive look.
"I think I didn't realize how much I had to lose," she explains as her fingers continue their exploration of his face. She traces the shell of his ear, his jaw, the subtle laugh lines by his eyes. "And I needed to lose you before I could have you."
Castle turns his head and smudges his mouth to her palm. "You didn't lose me, Kate," he rasps. "Not really. I was mad, hell, I still am." His lips lift at that, and she almost sighs in relief. "But I would've come back, eventually." His fingers splay across her back, holding her to him as he looks in her eyes. "I love you, Kate. Nothing could make me stop."
She presses her palm to his cheek, her eyes searching his for any hesitation, any lingering doubt. She doesn't see any, but she needs to ask him, needs to know. "Can you forgive me?" she asks, her voice hoarse with emotion. "For lying about remembering my shooting, pushing you away when you were only trying to help?"
"Oh, Kate," he whispers, one hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. "I already have. Can you forgive me?"
She brushes her lips against his, runs her tongue along his bottom lip, smiles when he moans. His eyes are closed when she pulls back, his cheeks flushed, chest heaving with his breaths. She waits until he opens his eyes, gazes at her with nothing but optimism and love.
In that moment, there's only one response, one word that will suffice.
"Always."
As he lowers her back to the mattress, covering her with kisses, she whispers her love again and again.
For so long she's wanted to say the words, but something has always held her back. But now, as they lose themselves to their passion, she never wants to stop.
-FIN-