The sun has gone down but they're sitting next to each other on the steps about halfway up the steps. Abraham Lincoln seems so far away, looking over them, a few tourists with cameras still mulling around them but they aren't looking at them. They're sitting next to each other, almost touching but they aren't touching, their own hands resting on their own knees when they're not absentmindedly swatting at mosquitos.

They both think that maybe they should have gone back to her apartment but he's not sure he would have been able to control himself with no one around to see because he missed her and he just wants her close. And he wants to scream at her and make her realize that she was so dumb to leave him because all he ever wanted was to just be with her. And she doesn't want him to see how odd all her stuff looks in the new place, how embarrassingly ridiculous it looks because it's not a home. She doesn't want him to see that most of his novels are sitting in and on her nightstand because she missed him, and how unfair it was that she got to have his words, the part of him she first fell in love with, and all he had was her ghost.

They're sitting and they're not touching and they're both lost in their thoughts, completely aware of the other and just waiting.

She realizes in a moment that it's her turn. He came to her after she left; he bought the plane ticket, he found her in DC; He made the grand romantic gesture. Now it's her turn.

"I come here on the nights when it too much."

He doesn't respond but he sits up straighter, lets her know that he's heard her and she's listening, silently encouraging her to go on.

"It's great," she says softly, "The people are great and the job… is fantastic. I feel like I'm learning so much. And the people here are so nice and welcoming. The city is amazing."

He turns to her, smiles slightly but she can see the pain in his eyes, the way he's trying to hold it together. She exhales unsteadily the words barely making it past her lips.

"I can't stand it."

His eyes show his surprise, and Kate has to look away. She looks at her hands, clenches them together, drops her head in shame as he asks her why. She ignores the question - it's not time yet. She has to explain it better.

(She needs to do better)

"I come here most nights," she repeats, "on the nights when it gets too hard."

She reaches down to where the chain hangs around her neck, feeling his eyes on her the entire time as she wraps her finger around her ring, the one that he gave her and held it up. She feels him stiffen slightly beside her and her brow crumples. She hates it but she owes it to him. She hasn't cried a single time since she's been here and now she's on the verge and she doesn't think she'll be able to stop.

"I come here when I miss you too much."

"Kate -"

"I do," she whispers; the words barely making it out past her lips before they break apart and then she can't stop them. She doesn't do this, she never does this but the truth is just flooding out of her and she can't keep it in, "Miss you. I miss you so much. I hate this job because I you're not there; I hate my apartment because it's not yours; I hate this city because you're not here and I just miss you all the time. I feel like I can't even breathe without missing you and it's all my fault. It's all my fault and I love you but I don't know how to fix it," she finally looks at him and his eyes are tearing up and the tears leak out past the corner of hers and she's so tired of holding them in. Her brow crumples, "I'm sorry, Castle. I'm so sorry."

He tries really hard not to touch her but that lasts all of two seconds before he reaches out to her. He slides closer to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulder and tugging her to him. She comes easily, exhaustedly, her body folding in against his almost in relief and it breaks him. Because she's tired, so tired, and there's no one here in DC to keep her going – there's no one to make sure she sleeps, there's no one to make sure she eats.

That was his job. That was his job and he misses it.

He misses her job, too. He misses going to the twelfth with her, bringing her coffee, putting together a murder board. He misses building theory with her, whispering innuendo in her ear when she was supposed to be working, still pretending to keep the fact that he loves her a secret even though everyone who is important knows. He misses bets with the boys, misses Ryan's enthusiasm and Esposito's dry gallows humor and Lanie's sass and even Gates' glares and Perlmutter's complete dismissals of his contributions to the team.

But mostly, he just misses her.

He's angry, so very angry. He wants to turn to her, take her head in his hands and just shake her, ask her what was she thinking, but she's clinging on to his jacket like she thinks her apology wasn't worth enough, like she thinks he's about to say goodbye.

No.

Not yet.

No goodbyes yet.

He leans down, presses his cheek against her hair while she starts to calm down against him. His fingers wrap around the hand still clutching the ring between them and he feels her take a deep breath, her fingers refusing to fall away from it as if she was afraid he would take it from her.

It's his turn.

"I'm mad," he starts quietly. She flinches against him and his arm tightens around her because he still doesn't like to hurt her but she needs to know the truth, "I'm mad and… hurt that you left, that you chose this job over me. That you didn't want me to come with you. I would have come with you, Kate. I would have come with you in a heartbeat."

She's shaking in his arms and he can feel the way she stiffens the longer he speaks. He takes a deep breath, lifts their hands holding her ring together a little higher.

"But I don't think this…" he shakes the ring slightly, "… was a mistake."

She lifts her head from off his shoulder, looks at him with something akin to confusion and he doesn't ever want her to be confused again. He thought he'd been clear enough the first time but if she needed another push he could give that to her.

For them.

"I don't regret asking you to marry me," he says again, "I wouldn't have done it if I didn't mean it. I'm done messing around, Kate… I was done from the minute you showed up on my doorstep telling me you wanted me."

He laughs lightly, and she smiles, an adorable little half-embarrassed smile that made her look ages younger than she is.

"I came back to you then," he whispers, "even when I was hurt because I loved you. And I'm angry. And it's going to be hard. But I still love you, Kate. And I still want you. Because I wouldn't have given you this," – the ring - "if I didn't mean it. Because I love you, and I want you, and despite what happens now, I always will."

He unwraps his arm from around her shoulders, uses it to nudge her chin up so she's looking at him because he needs her to see his face when he said it.

"'Til death do us part, right?"

He saw her eyes water again as she nodded slightly, repeating the words back to him quietly. Her fingers move from around the ring until they are wrapped around his own, holding the ring up, letting it glitter off the final remaining glances of the sunset off of the reflecting pool, her eyes burning into his with an intensity far more significant than the setting sun could ever hope to reach.

"'Til death do us part."

'Cause I don't wanna lose you now
I'm lookin' right at the other half of me
The vacancy that sat in my heart
Is a space that now you hold.
Show me how to fight for now
And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy
Comin' back here to you once I figured it out
You were right here all along.

OKAY. NOW IT'S REALLY COMPLETE. I can't commit to any long running story because I'm leaving to go on a month long backpacking trip in Europe in 37 days (if you'd like and have the means to help me be a little more secure financially, head over to [[ battle whispers dot tumblr .com]] and click the donate button but it's not necessary).

(also, listen to the cover of Mirrors by Boyce Avenue and Fifth Harmony. Ugh, it's beautiful)