may flowers

Chapter Four

The next few days pass pretty normally. Ryan and Esposito tease her about her date the next day, and wear matching grins when they notice her blushing and trying her hardest to intimidate them with a glare. Eventually, she wins and they go scampering off to their desks, chastened by her look.

They investigate the murder of a young man, Jay Brooks, for the next few days. It's a relatively simple, run of the mill murder, involving a mistress and a jealous wife. The paperwork is mundane, and she finds herself counting down the days to Saturday. Which is just ridiculous. One date and she's already pining to see him again?

Her phone buzzes. Castle.

Hypothetically, how would someone break out of holding?

Why, are you planning on breaking out?

She returns to her paperwork, running a hand through her hair.

Maybe in the future. For now, it's for writing. What use is there to dating a cop if I can't ask her important questions to save myself from googling illegal activity?

He says it so casually. Dating.

Holy crap. She's dating Richard Castle.

Kate shakes her head, focusing on the text.

You can't break out of holding. That's kind of the point.

Oh, come on, your faith in the budget of the New York police department can't be *that* high.

Well, the moment someone breaks out, I'll be sure to let you know how they did it. Not that it will ever happen. Because it's impossible.

Spoilsport.

Kate grins, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

She's dating Richard Castle.

"So," Lanie says, when she visits the morgue at lunch the next day. "We haven't had a chance to talk about your date with Richard Castle."

Three days have passed since the date, and she still feels pleasantly warm all over as a result of it, still feeling that shiver, a thrill, pass through her when he looks at her like she's everything. She's dating Richard Castle, author of her favourite books, and he's so sweet and gentle and caring in real life. Everything that she needs right now.

Kate lifts herself up onto one of the tables, swinging her legs and pursing her lips.

"No, we haven't."

Lanie glares. "Give me something better than that to go on."

Laughing, Kate curls her fingers around the edges of the table, the metal cool under her hands. It's no secret to her that Lanie will want every last detail. More than enough times, Lanie's professed her admiration for the man, because of the amount of detail he puts into the dead. Not every author takes the time to figure out the realistic biology of how the body works post morterm, she'd said, the man has skill.

"It was lovely, Lanie. He was… funny, and sweet. He took me to this amazing seafood restaurant - you know the one you've always wanted to go to?"

Lanie's eyes light up. "Go on."

"The food was so good, and I thought it would be awkward but," Kate shrugs, "the conversation just flowed pretty easily, I guess."

Lanie moves to stand in front of Kate, raising her eyebrows. Oh no. She knows that look. That's the look that means they're about to talk about sex. Wow, jeez, sex with Richard Castle. That thought sounds strange, even if she has worn his jacket when it was cold, and ran her foot up his leg when they had dessert.

"And after the date?"

"Nothing happened, Lanie," she tells her sternly, watching as her friend huffs. "But we did arrange to go out again on Saturday."

Lanie shrieks, wrapping Kate up in a hug, almost pulling her from the table. She finds herself laughing, arms awkwardly taut by her sides as her friend jumps up and down. She waits it out.

"You're serious?" Lanie says, pulling away at last. "You're actually dating this guy?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," Kate confirms, grinning.

"Oh, Kate. He's going to be so good for you. I can just tell."

Kate ducks her head, allowing her hair to blanket her expression.

"I hope so."

The next day, the sniper case arrives.

She's feeling good that day. She teases Castle over the phone while she's getting ready about the fact that Alexis took it upon herself to give him a Disney princess inspired makeover, and tells him he's finally become the queen he told her he was on their first date. She has to hang up pretty quickly when her PT instructor calls, and she feels guilt niggling away at the back of her mind - she should tell Castle, she knows. Warn him that she's damaged, not whole. That it takes sleeping pills to knock her out at night and she's been having nightmares every night for almost five months now. Instead, she tells him that the precinct's calling her, and smiles when he tells her he's going to plan their date for Saturday.

And then.

Her scar burns. It has before. Sometimes, especially the one on her side, tugs when she's at crime scenes, or going about daily life. But this is different. This is a bone-aching, whole body feeling, as she studies the young woman sniped to death on the sidewalk.

Didn't even feel a thing. Couldn't hold on long enough to watch the lights go out.

Kate closes her eyes, trying to force away the images of her own shooting. There were no warning signs. One moment, she was giving her speech, and the next thing she knows it hurt everywhere and she couldn't move or breathe and everyone was screaming, the sky above her such a violently bright shade of blue, before she succumbed to the heavy pressure on her eyelids and felt the darkness envelop her.

Everything is a struggle that day. It's hard, and it hurts, and she knows she has to keep her focus. But she can't. There are flashes before her eyes. Blood. Screaming.

She goes home and studies her body in the mirror. It feels grotesque, foreign, as she trails her fingers along her sides, tracing every bump and ridge of her surgical scars. They're not as violent and raw as the one between her breasts, have practically faded, but she knows that they're there, a line running along the dip of her waist and marring her forever. She turns, fingers tracing over her skin, finding the rough, healing skin between her breasts, a contradiction if there ever was one. She tilts her head, trying to think of how she could've possibly survived this. A bullet entered her body here. It tore her insides, ripped her apart.

She hasn't exactly been the same since.

Kate shivers, fingers curling around the bullet scar, trying to make sense of the fact that this person in the mirror is her. It doesn't feel like it. It doesn't feel like her at all.

Beside her, her phone buzzes.

Saturday daytime good for you?

Castle.

She frowns, locking her phone without texting him back.

This isn't something she wants him to see. Maybe it had been wrong to agree to a second date.

She gets three more texts from him that day.

Coming in, coming in: Saturday daytime?

This just in: Bestselling author has nothing else to do with his time but text homicide detective who seems to be choosing to ignore him.

Are you okay?

The grass is hard yet soft against her back.

Beckett yells, screams and blood playing before her eyes. Darting forward, she closes her blinds with a sharp snap. The alcohol and mix of pills she took earlier are beginning to take effect. She isn't alert enough. They're coming.

Who?

Someone. Someone's coming.

Bang.

She yells again, lungs vacant of oxygen as she falls to the floor, cutting herself on the shards of glass that litter the wood. Fuck. What is happening? What's going on?

Blue. Blue sky. Dying.

All alone.

She grabs her gun.

She's not safe.

Kate crawls into the smallest space between her couch and a table making herself as small as possible while she maintains a heavy grip on her gun. No. No. She's safe. She has to be safe. They can't kill her today.

She's close. With her mom's case. She's close. She can't -

Her whole body seizes up and she yelps when a sound echoes on the table beside her. Startling, Kate's head snaps up to see it's just her phone ringing. She grabs the phone with shaky hands, ignoring the blood running down her arm, staring at the caller ID. Castle.

She lets it go to voicemail.

Soon enough, the phone chimes with a notification for a voicemail. Pressing a hand to her chest, she notes how her heart is beginning to slow back to a normal rate, and she blinks a couple times, drinking in the room around her.

She's safe. It was just a panic attack.

Setting her gun down beside her, double checking the safety is on, she stares at the opposite side of the room as she listens to Castle's message.

Hey, Kate. It's me. Look, uh… I get it, if you're having second thoughts. Just, let me know if you are, okay? I just… I keep getting this idea that you're in a ditch dying somewhere. I know. It's ridiculous. Writer's imagination. Just…. call me back soon?

Kate sighs, resting her cheek on her knee, and pressing repeat. Letting his words drag her back into reality.

That night, she doesn't sleep.

Something inside her changes, after the sniper case. They solve it, after she bares her ugly scars to the sniper and Esposito kills him, dead. Right in front of her. No time to prepare for the life to drain from him.

Yet something about her just feels different. She can't tell if it's good or bad. She hopes it's not bad.

She can't handle any more bad business in her life.

When she steps off of the elevator that evening, she almost drops her keys in shock. Sitting in front of her door, asleep, is Richard Castle.

The man just does not let up.

Kate crouches down beside him, uncertain how to wake him. She settles with placing a cautious hand on his shoulder and shakes him gently, murmuring his name. A few seconds pass before he stirs, his eyelids fluttering again before his eyes focus on her.

"Now there's a sight I could wake up to everyday," he says, before his eyes widen and he registers where he is. "Kate?"

"You fell asleep in front of my door."

"That explains why my neck hurts like Hell," he says, rolling his neck and shoulders slightly before standing up, wincing a little. "What time is it?"

"Just a little after seven. Shouldn't you be looking after Alexis?"

"Her mother, Meredith, came by this morning and claimed she was going to look after her for the weekend," he explains. "I wouldn't be surprised if I get a call with her changing her mind."

Kate opens the door to her apartment and hesitates slightly, before sighing and stepping in and indicating for him to follow. He does so without question, watching her face carefully, and for once she wishes he wouldn't. She's ready to break, and can't handle the way his gaze burns through her skin.

"That must be hard. For Alexis," she says, closing the door.

But Castle's stopped paying attention, instead is inspecting the pile of dishes that have accumulated in her sink again. A pile of clothes sit beside the kitchen table, haphazard and unwashed. She's been meaning to get around to those. Then he steps further into her front room, towards the couches, and for once she resents how inquisitive, how curious this man is by nature. These are the deep, dark corners of her for only her to see.

His face goes from interested to a deep set anger when he notices the shards of glass spilled across the floor.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting guests."

He doesn't turn towards her.

"I thought you were in danger. Or hurt, somewhere."

She swallows hard, setting her keys on the counter. Takes a step forward, and the sound echoes between them.

"I'm fine, Castle. It's just been a busy few days. That's what my job is like."

"Too busy to send a text?" He asks, turning towards her, and for the first time she thinks she could compare his eyes to ice. "To call me back? Let me know you were okay, at least?"

Taking a deep breath, she moves forward, closer to him, but he only takes a step back.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I should've - had the courtesy to text you, at least. I know that."

The words sound insincere when they fall from her lips and she grits her teeth, rubbing a hand across her face.

"Castle, I'm not - I'm not really in a good place right now. I know you think I'm this hero cop or something, but that's not… that's not me. Okay? I'm not a hero. I never will be. Please don't try and turn me into one."

A maelstrom of emotions thunder across his face then and he takes a few steps forwards, using his height over her to intimidate her, frighten her. She almost thinks she feels tears pricking at the back of her eyes. Fuck, she's a mess.

"When are you going to get that this isn't about the bank? This is about you. From the moment I saw you, braving to walk into a hostage situation, unarmed, all for the sake of your friend and a handful of people you've never met - from that moment. I knew I needed to know everything about you. You were so brave, so compassionate, handled the situation with my daughter so effortlessly. And then you act like it's nothing? How could I not fall for you?"

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. His chest heaves with exertion, staring at her helplessly, but it seems that he's not done yet.

"You have secrets, Kate, I get it. You hardly know me. I don't expect you to open up to me yet, the same way I won't to you," he says, softer this time, approaching her. "But I want to get to know you. I want there to be a day where you can open up to me."

He moves forward again, until he's close enough to touch. She remains completely still, watching him, shivering.

"You're intelligent. You're beautiful. You're so serious. You deal with death everyday. Yet you flirt and joke with me as though there's no such thing. How could I resist?"

Castle reaches out, taking her hand in his. His palms are smooth, gentle against her skin, surprisingly so for a man, but she supposes it's due to days of writing the lives of others instead of really living his own. They dwarf hers though, his tanned skin making her own look a sickly pale, the bones of her wrists jutting out a little too harshly, reedy. Her fingers flex against his, weak, more of a flutter, and watches as her skin plays over the blue and green colours of her veins.

"When was the last time you ate?"

She wraps her fingers around his with a little more pressure. She is strong. She's not weak, or vulnerable, or dainty. She's not.

"Yesterday. I was gonna order some Thai tonight."

Kate watches as Castle shakes his head in disapproval.

"I'm a very difficult person to get along with, Castle," she tells him softly. "I'm not good at letting people in.

"I can tell," he replies, and she huffs.

"But I… want to get to know you, too," she tells him, peering up at him. "Just be patient with me. Please?"

His hand moves against hers. Their palms kiss.

"For you, Kate," he says, "I can do that."

TBC