Disclaimer: Still not mine folks.
Improbable Cause
Chapter 3 – The Whole Truth
Kate is breathless, her heart racing, when she finally reaches Castle's front door, despite the fact that she just rode the elevator all the way up to his floor.
She hesitates in front of the shiny, solid-looking door, her hand raised, ready to knock. She lowers her fist, pushes her fingers through her hair, paces in a tight circle, trying to calm her thundering heart, trying to force more air into her constricted lungs, knowing that she has one good shot at this, and has to make every second she gets in front of him and every word that comes out of her mouth count.
She addresses the door once more, rolling her shoulders back as she squares up to it as if it's a tricky perp she's preparing to take down. She shakes out her hands and arms, trying to loosen up the muscle-aching tension that's suddenly seizing up her body.
When she finally knocks, firmly, confidently, she steps back right after and awaits his response, listens for the familiar sound of his self-assured footfalls on the hardwood floor. But seconds pass and the silence stretches out, not one single sound coming from inside the loft. Kate briefly wonders if he could have gone out while she and Martha were across the street. But she quickly discounts that idea when she remembers how upset he was, the terrible look of hurt and betrayal on his face, even when she told him she'd made a mistake. And she knows him so well now, she realizes. He likes to lick his wounds in private. He's got to still be inside, and that means he's ignoring her.
Kate bites her lip in a moment of indecision, frowns as she thinks back over Martha's advice – that she should fight for him, that she owes him that, that it's her turn to save them now.
She fingers the cool metal of the door key she has resting in her pocket; the one Martha pressed into her palm before she left the restaurant. "He likes to sulk. Don't let that put you off, darling. Use this if you have to," she had said, handing Kate the key off her own key chain, assuring her the doorman would let her in later.
Kate runs her index finger along the roughed edges, tracing the unique landscape of the key, and then she takes a definitive step forward and slides it into the lock before she can back out, turning it to the right and lowering the handle with her other hand as she does so, trembling fingers grasping the cool, brushed metal for support.
The door swings open easily, the familiar, expansive space beyond now softly lit by just a couple of table lamps either side of the couch, the loft much gloomier than when Kate left – was asked to leave – only an hour ago.
She steps inside, still feeling unsure about being here uninvited, but knowing that she needs to do this, for Castle as much as for herself.
So she drops her bag by the table in the entryway and carefully places Martha's key on its polished surface, trailing her fingers over the rich patina, appreciating the warm solidity of the wood as she gathers herself.
She stands still inside the threshold breathing steadily, listening for the familiar sounds of her partner's home as it prepares to sleep – the click and buzz of the air conditioning, the quiet purr of the refrigerator, the expansion and contraction of the wooden floor – all noises she's come to think of as the heartbeat of her lover's home. His warm home where she feels so comfortable and so happy that it scares her sometimes, but leaves her wanting…more, always more of him, with him.
Once her eyes adjust, she sees the light from Castle's office leaking through the open bookcase shelves; the books like a miniature city silhouetted from behind, and she heads straight towards the light like a homing pigeon, her heart hammering.
She lifts her hand to rap her knuckles against the wood to announce her presence, but holds back when she sees him sitting at his desk with his back to her, a crystal tumbler of Scotch resting by his arm, the half-empty bottle standing sentry nearby, still uncapped, beside his vintage, chrome Anglepoise lamp.
She's pretty sure he must have heard her footsteps, and briefly wonders if he's fallen asleep, or, if he's been drinking since she left, maybe he's too drunk to care.
"What do you want, Kate?" he says, without turning around, and she startles, shocked by the sudden rich depth of his voice when it breaks the silence.
He sounds completely awake, not in the least bit like he's been drinking. A cold layer of hurt laces his words, and there's a rough edge to his voice from lack of use.
"I told you I'd call."
"Thought I'd save you the trouble," she replies, trying to jolt them into their familiar back and forth, hoping they can find their groove, and a quick way out of this before any more damage is done.
He apparently has no reply to this, since he just sits there mute and unmoving, save for a quick, jerky lift of his arm. Is he…did he just wipe away a tear?
"Castle, can we talk?"
She needs to fix this now.
"Sorry. But I'm all talked out. Tends to happen when you find yourself on the other side of the interview room table for hours on end, answering questions about yourself that fill you with horror," he adds bitterly.
"Fine. Then you can listen," says Kate, determined not to be put off until she gets this all out.
Because for once she's going to be the one pushing her way into his life, just like he's done for her so many times in the past when he was convinced it was the right thing to do for her.
"Please yourself," says Castle, shoving the heavy crystal tumbler across the desk a small way with the back of his hand until it collides with the bottle of Single Malt, the two clinking dully.
"Just how much of that stuff have you had?" asks Kate, having a flashback to late nights with her father, and needing to gauge how receptive he's likely to be to the truth, if he'll stay awake long enough for her to bare her soul and still remember it in the morning.
"None. Couldn't stomach it."
He laughs bitterly.
"You know things are bad when you can't even drown your sorrows."
"Okay, first off, you can cut the self-indulgent crap, Castle. I didn't come here to witness your little pity party."
"Just why did you come here, Kate?" he asks, finally spinning his chair to face her, eyes blazing with hurt and anger. "'Cause I do remember asking you to leave. Funny thing is, I don't remember asking you to come back again. And just how did you get in here anyway?" he asks, looking past her in the direction of the front door.
"Your mother."
"You called my mother?" he asks, sounding incredulous.
"No, I met her in the hallway as I was getting in the elevator. We went for coffee, she pushed her key on me, told me to go sort things out."
"Oh great, so the coven convened and what? Decided poor old Richard needed a little intervention?"
"No, Castle. Two people who…" she hesitates, the words catching in her throat in the face of this uncharacteristic jag of anger from him, "…care about you, want to make things right," she says, her tone softening, all hint of chastisement gone. "Please, Rick. We have to sort this out."
"If you…care so much, why don't you trust me?" he asks, and the question is so heartfelt, so honest, and he knows she's struggling still, even after everything they've been through together, to express her deepest feelings for him. But even when he's this mad at her, this wounded, he lets her off the hook from pressing her to say the words he really wants to hear.
"I do trust you. I do. With my life, Castle. There's no one I'd rather have by my side, at work, in life, for the whole nine yards. I made a mistake, okay. It happens. I'm not perfect. But you know that by now, so stop holding me to these impossibly high standards of yours."
She's trying to lighten things up, because they already joked about this; about how he sees her as nothing less than a perfect creature, when in truth she's full of human flaws and frailties just like everyone else. But the in-joke falls flat and he just looks at the floor, the stubborn edge to his chin so far unsoftned by her words.
Kate sighs, and tries again.
"Rick, I want this, want us, what we've been building here, so much. But it's not always as simple and straightforward as saying the words and wanting it to happen."
"But it is that simple, Kate," he insists. "If you let it. But you have to trust me."
"I told you I trust you already," she repeats, hoping somehow it'll sink in, what she's saying.
"Today says otherwise," he throws back at her glumly.
"Today was a massive mistake on my part. But what I realized, talking to your mother tonight, was that it had nothing to do with your guilt or the case or the murder, and everything to do with it being about another woman."
His head snaps up at this and she suddenly has his full attention.
Kate is just figuring this out for herself, completely on the fly, and she needs to direct this new self-knowledge in a way that will help them both. She finds a recent example she thinks might help.
"When we went out to the Hamptons a couple of weekends ago, do you have any idea how hard it was for me to take the guided tour around your beautiful home while you talked about interiors and remodeling, wondering just who'd been there before me, did Gina have a hand in the décor, did Jacinda make it out that far? Hmm?"
"And I told you at the time, Kate, none of those women were you."
His expression is so earnest and sincere that it tugs at the heart for them to be fighting like this. But she knows she has to get all of this out on the table so that he understands her side of things; the insecurity that still lingers with her over his past.
"Yes, but two years ago, one of them should have been me," she says quietly, and his eyes cut to hers, alert and wary and questioning.
"After our second year working together…" she begins hesitantly, because there is so much from their past that they haven't discussed, and she's gambling that going back will help them.
"Mmm?"
"You asked me to go out there for the weekend."
"Yes, I remember. You turned me down."
"Yeah, well, I changed my mind. I broke up with Demming, and I pulled you out of that little leaving party the boys were throwing for you to tell you that I was…that I wanted to go with you. And so, seeing all of that - the house, the beach, the pool - everything we could have been enjoying back then, kind of brought it all back. How hurt I felt when you left that summer and never called."
"Wait…you mean…? Kate, tell me I've got this wrong. Tell me…"
"Gina showed up just as I was about to…just as I was going to tell you that I wanted to accept your offer, that I wanted to give us a shot. And God it hurt, Castle. I hadn't said anything at work, but I knew that everyone was watching when you walked off into the sunset with your ex-wife, and…"
Kate shakes her head slowly at the memory of a situation she knows she had a major hand in creating.
"So you see, I have kind of an issue with you and other women that I really need to deal with if we're going to make a go of this."
"If I'd known…" he says plaintively, still fixating on that lost opportunity to be with her back then, wondering where they'd be now, two years down the track – married, a family, baby on the way? Or broken up, the mystery solved, his short attention span kicking in once the new wore off?
"The thing that hurt most, and continued to fuel my mistrust of you in this one small area, is that you really seemed to want me there, and we really seemed to be getting closer, and yet when I put you off, you couldn't wait two minutes to see if I'd change my mind, or work on me a little longer. You just gave up on us, and filled my spot with someone else, as if you just couldn't bear to be there alone, and so anyone was better than no one. I lost a little faith in you that day. I guess that's maybe why it took me so long to trust that I could have a relationship with you that would be open and honest...mature, you know?"
"Open? And you're just telling me all of this now?"
He's raising his voice again, hurting from the evidence of his own stupidity and the miscommunication and crossed-wires they seem to specialize in, for two people who can be so much in sync in so many other ways.
"I thought it was water under the bridge, not worth raising. But it obviously isn't," says Kate by way of explanation.
"I see," he says, withdrawing into himself, wary and unsure exactly what this means for them, but pretty certain it can't be good.
"Castle, you have to listen to me…"
"Listen to you?" he cuts in, his voice rising angrily again. "Why should I listen to you, Kate, when I find out tonight that you're second guessing me without sharing what's on your mind, or allowing me any opportunity to make my case?"
His words hit home, like a familiar script playing out in front of her; a play she's seen before, a part she's been the understudy for for longer than she can remember. Suddenly she knows exactly what she has to say - this her chance to step out onto the stage and prove herself to him.
"Because I love you, Castle. You should listen to me because I love you and I want this to work. Everything you said about our first morning together…? That's what this is for me too. I don't know how to do this, but I want to find a way, and surely that has to count for something?"
He's staring at her now, his eyes softened from that steely, flinty blue, to the rich lapis she loves to see when emotion overwhelms him and his heart rules his head.
"Wait a minute. Back it up a second. What did you just say?"
He leans forward in his chair, his hand covering his mouth, holding so much inside as he stares at her, focusing all of his attention on her face.
"That I want to try…that I'm not good at…"
"Before that," he says breathlessly, his heart pounding with barely contained hope.
And it dawns on her, what he needs to hear from her again, the words he needs her to impress upon him.
"I love you?" she says, the words more of a question, but coming out loud and clear all the same.
He nods slowly, a smile breaking out on his face, eyes crinkling up at the corners, the light from his desk lamp dancing in the moist glow she see blooming there; two perfect swimming pools of blue.
"I thought that's what you said."
She's smiling back at him now, still standing in the doorway, a beautiful, sparkling luminosity lighting up her face, eyes burning with it; open and trusting and filled with that love she can finally talk about.
"I'm sorry it took me so long," she offers quietly, biting her lip and shaking her head with faint embarrassment. She looks up shyly, grinning at him, curls dancing as she moves.
"Better late than never," he says, finally reaching out for her hand.
A/N: So they're almost there. Anyone in the mood for an M rated final chapter? They both have a lot of making up to do, so I think I could swing it. Let me know if you're up for that? Otherwise, it was great fun guys. Thanks for all the amazing reviews. Liv