Chapter Two

Kate blinks open her eyes and there he is.

The early morning sun lights the room with a soft glow and makes it hard to shake the warm haze of sleep blanketing her. Time feels like it's stretching, warping, still lost in the lazy drag of sleep, but she's happy to just lie there and watch him as he watches her. His face is so close their noses almost touch and all she can see are his smiling, blue eyes crinkled in the corners.

Something feels strange, though, and she thinks she should maybe be annoyed that he's watching her sleep, but all she feels is a kind of happy that she hasn't in a while, an odd sort of relief, and her lips lift of their own accord.

"Go back to sleep," she says.

His forehead wrinkles in confusion.

And it's enough.

Enough to break the spell. To shatter the illusion. She blinks once, slowly, and then he's gone and she remembers that he's not - that he can't be - there.

That he never will be.

And that she doesn't even have memories to fall back on.

…..

Her phone trills again, lighting the dark room where she sits staring blankly at the opposite wall after a particularly rough day at the precinct.

Kate glances dutifully at the screen. Alexis.

She ignores it. Lets the phone drop back to the table with a discordant thump. She lays her head against the back of the couch, eyes screwed tight, as the fragments of her mind war with each other. One side hiding from a child like a coward, the other urging her to be the support she never had. But it's the echo of his voice - not a whisper, but a distant scream - pleading with her. "Answer it. You promised."

And she did.

But she can't, because she's not what the teenager needs. She's not the strong pillar for her to lean on.

She's the woman who put the girl's father in harm's way. She's the woman who let him die.

His voice becomes louder, more insistent, until she can't take it anymore.

"Enough," she says into the empty room.

There's no response. Of course, there's no response. Just the incessant ringing of her phone. Until even that falls silent.

"Enough," she says this time for herself.

She picks up the phone and calls the girl back.

…..

"Come out with me tonight," Lanie says after a moment of silence.

The body on the slab between them is still, ice cold and tinged blue. Kate keeps her eyes focused on him, the bullet hole in his chest an easier reality than her friend's probing eyes.

Drinks. It's too normal. Sitting at a bar, the lights low, the music blasting, handsome men with their perfectly coiffed hair and dazzling smiles offering to refill their glasses, the buzz of alcohol making her light. Laughing. Having a good time. She can't even remember what having good time feels like. It hasn't been that long but...it has. At least it feels like it has.

"Honey, you need to get out of that apartment." Lanie continues. "You're developing an unhealthy attachment to your pizza delivery kid."

"Pat?" Kate shrugs. "He's a good kid."

"Exactly my point."

"What?"

"Kate, nobody knows the name of their pizza delivery guy. You need to come out with me, have a few drinks. Forget yourself for a bit."

"I just-" Kate pauses, dares to look up, but then quickly withdraws again. "I'm just not at that point yet."

Lanie sighs softly. "Kate, you're never going to get to that point unless you make an effort to move forward. It's been months, Honey."

"I know, but I still feel like he's here Lanie. And it's hard enough being in the precinct..."

"Trust me. It'll be good for you."

The light, tentative touch of the other woman's hand on her shoulder forces Kate to meet Lanie's eye.

"Please. What if we just hang out at my place? A quiet night in."

She grits her teeth and nods.

"Alright."

…..

The first sip of wine is like slipping into the relaxing depths of a hot bath, the aroma surrounding her in bliss, the slow burn of the liquid loosening her limbs and freeing her mind from the vice of his memory.

She hasn't dared to touch a drop of alcohol. Not since that first night when she recklessly lost herself in a bottle of whiskey and drank herself into a stupor. The shame when her father arrived the next morning was too much to bear. He shuffled sadly into her room with the near-empty bottle held limply in his fingers and too much understanding in his eyes, probably an ounce of fear swirling in his gut. And he cradled her in his arms as she clutched at his chest like a child, desperate for the comfort only a father can give.

In her lone moment of clarity during the week that followed she emptied her liquor cabinet. Her coping mechanisms were many, but alcohol would not be one of them. Not when she still had to face her dad. Not when she still strapped on his watch every morning.

But now, she luxuriates in the liberating buzz of the wine. She closes her eyes and lets the the warmth envelop her until there's nothing but the smooth melody of the jazz Lanie has piping through her Ipod dock.

When she opens her eyes again, Lanie's watching her closely.

They talk about nothing all through the first glass- the latest victim, the case, the boys, the precinct, the weather - and then halfway through her second glass her friend turns serious eyes on her. "How're you doing?"

Kate sets her glass down carefully and calls on a well-practiced smile for her friend. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit," Lanie says, swallowing a large mouthful of wine before tipping the remainder of the bottle into her glass.

Kate's not sure what to tell her. That she wakes up to his smiling face in her bed? That she feels the brush of his arm against hers in an empty elevator? That she sees his reflection in the corner of her eye? That she hears his voice whispered in the quiet of the night?

Her friend will think she's crazy.

Hell, she thinks she's crazy.

"Everyone sees it," Lanie continues when Kate's silence persists. "It's okay to be heartbroken, Kate."

Maybe it's the alcohol or the gentle tone in her friend's voice, maybe it's the pressure from months of keeping it together, but Kate's defences crumble in a tidal wave.

Before she realises the tears in her eyes have spilled over, Lanie is on her side of the couch, arm around her shoulders.

"I loved him," Kate confesses in a small voice when she can speak again.

"I know you did," Lanie says. "I'm sure he knew you did too."

Kate shakes her head and straightens because he didn't, did he? And she feels like a fool, mourning the loss of something she never had. "We weren't like that."

"Oh, Kate," her friend says, letting go of her shoulders with a final squeeze. "You didn't have to be like that, everyone could see that man was crazy about you."

Except me, she thinks, regret choking her up more than sorrow ever could.

…..

Kate stumbles into her apartment, too much wine, and perhaps too much conversation, still muddling her brain, leaving her sluggish and uncoordinated. Lanie's attempts to have her spend the night had been unsuccessful. She wanted to be home. She wanted to be alone. And maybe a small part of her wanted wake in the familiar comfort of her bed, to see his face even if it was just a momentary illusion or trick of the light. She won't dream of him in the strange shadows of Lanie's guest bedroom.

She dumps her keys on the table beside the door and shrugs off her coat before turning to survey the apartment.

And he's there. Standing in the center of her living room. Hair falling across his forehead. Eyes that same piercing blue. Tall and broad-shouldered and real.

She stops. And blinks. But he's still there. And he's looking at her.

No. It's not possible. He's gone. He can't be-

"C-Castle?" she stutters. The shock shoots through her like a jolt of electricity, arcs across the room and spreads across his face.

He stops. And blinks. Eyes wide.

"You can see me?"

A/N - Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. Hope you enjoy.