A/N: Happy New Year, fan fiction peeps! Hope 2014 has started well for you. Can't believe we get a new Castle episode tomorrow. Looks like a good one. Anyway, hope you enjoy this update... I've added a short reprise of the last chapter since it's been a few days since the last one.

Chapter 7 – Finding Solid Ground

Previously...

Kate is cracking eggs into a bowl when she feels his hands land on her hips. He's right behind her, his body radiating heat into her skin in the stuttering instant when she stops what she's doing, losing a flake of earth-toned eggshell into the bowl along with the whites and yolks. She freezes, pausing to enjoy the solidity, the reassurance and comfort of having him here - here in this way.

She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, smiling helplessly as Castle lightly runs his fingers up and down her upper arms. Slowly, quietly, he bends over her, nuzzling his nose into her ponytail before he leans to one side to press the sweetest kiss to the half of her nape that is bare, where she's swept her hair off her neck to one side. A jolt of electricity races down her spine and she clutches at the countertop to keep her knees from buckling.

Castle moves his hands from her arms back down to her hips, and then he slides one large, warm palm over her stomach, instantly melting her insides. Every neuron in her brain, every synapse and nerve ending is alive with the sensation of him touching her, surrounding her. Muscles contract, shivers and jolts ripple through her body, as she comes alive under his hands.

"Just to be clear," he whispers behind her ear, his chest grazing her shoulder blades as he brushes the velvety curve of the outer shell with his lips, "we are starting something here?"

His question, his need to ask it and the slight shade of doubt in his voice are almost painful to hear.

Kate drops her own hands from the counter to cover his on her hip and stomach, fingers worming their way into the gaps she manages to open up with faint pressure and a little persistence as she nods. But then her mind begins questioning and she realizes this still isn't enough reassurance for either of them. So she turns within his arms, her bare feet placed between his, and she faces him.

"Castle," she murmurs, cupping his earnest face in both hands, "we're already so deep into this I can't remember when it started. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He looks at her, waiting patiently for her to say more, to explain more about how she sees them, because he really, really wants to see her vision of them - to see them as she sees them.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't know when I fell in love with you, whether it was one year in or two or maybe even somewhere within the first few months. My point is, we've been together one-way or another more of less from the beginning. It really has just been you and me for a long time. That's how other people see us - Castle and Beckett - a package deal. And nobody messes with that or gets in the middle of it, because even when they did it never lasted."

She stretches up on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to the side of his mouth - a kiss of reassurance.

"No one ever compared to the way you made me feel. Even when you were getting on my nerves or we were fighting, no one made me feel as special, as...understood, as safe or wanted or as loved as you do. In my head I think I've been spoken for...promised to, for a really long time. Face it, Castle, neither of us has been on a date in…well, forever. And I think there's a simple reason for that. We've been waiting...for each other. So are we starting something? Most definitely. But it's really just a new phase. We were never not something, Rick."

When she finishes talking, her face is glowing, her eyes shining, and when he tilts his head and slants his mouth over hers, she is as willing and welcoming and eager as he could ever have hoped for. Her lips part to receive him and she utters a moan filled with so much repressed need as she clings to him. And Castle can't help but feel it too. He feels complete with her. He feels at home here in her arms, and for the first time in as long as he can remember he knows that he is genuinely loved by this extraordinary woman just for being himself alone, for being no more or less than he is - faults and all. And with this realization, he is overcome with a feeling of perfect peace and the wide open promise of all the possibilities yet to come.

Kate finally lets go of Castle long enough to persuade him to go back to bed. Then she hums and smiles her way through whisking eggs and making toast, feeling a sense of utter ridiculousness at her own happiness. She's giddy with it. Can't believe how good it feels to finally be completely open with him – the ultimate victory snatched from the jaws of defeat when she thinks about how differently last night could have gone. And it's a strong lesson in taking a chance that she means to hold onto and apply more frequently to her life from now on.

After she loads up a tray with fresh orange juice, two plates of scrambled eggs and warm buttered toast, fresh coffee and some fruit, she hurries to the bedroom, singing quietly under her breath, feeling like a different person than she did just the day before. She feels lighter, excited, eager to see Castle and spend time with him though they've been apart all of maybe ten minutes, even if she is a little nervous. It's as if some invisible barrier that existed between them – between the last things keeping them from fully knowing each other – has been lifted; these 'walls' that she once believed in, she supposes, now trampled into nothingness.

When she enters the bedroom, Castle is propped up in bed, sections of the newspaper strewn out across the comforter in a narrow arc around him. He's still wearing Kate's grey NYPD t-shirt, the covers loosely bunched around his waist, and it immediately strikes her just how at ease he looks here - as if he is already a permanent fixture in her home. Kate greets this last thought with more than a flash of terror mixed with an unfamiliar sense of excitement.

Castle looks up immediately she appears in the doorway, quickly lowering the pages of The Arts section of the newspaper into a crumpled heap on his lap.

"God, you're a sight for sore eyes," he says, and all Kate can think is the exact same thing about him, about finding him here in her bed on a random Saturday morning. A sight for sore eyes.

He checks her out shamelessly, dragging his eyes from her slightly bashful smile, down over her meagerly clad body – the tank top and shorts she slept in leaving most of her on show – her legs and feet still bare.

"I come bearing breakfast, Castle," she reminds him, holding up the tray. "I'm sure that's all this is," she laughs at his evident delight, her eyes sparkling despite the layer of tiredness that lingers after the late night, lack of sleep and the emotional upheaval they've just been through.

Kate places the tray down in the middle of the bed, while Castle hurriedly scoops up sections of the New York Times, haphazardly slotting them back together, and then she climbs in beside him.

"Your apartment is so quiet," marvels Castle, while Kate hands him a napkin, a fork and a plate of eggs and toast.

"Mmm," Kate hums in agreement, nodding, an easy smile on her lips. "That's one of the things I liked about this place when I found it. That and the small roof garden."

"All the times I've been here since you moved in…you never took me up there," remarks Castle, giving her a pouty look.

"Then we shall have to remedy that this very day," grins Kate, feeding him a slice of apple to get him to smile again.

They eat their breakfast largely in silence, both caught up in their own whirlwind of private thoughts: churning over all the questions, issues and implications that arise out of last night's spate of confessions and revelations. They're being careful with one another, the newness of everything still slightly strange, lending an edge of nervous tension to the situation.

"Whatcha thinking?" Castle finally asks Kate, polishing off his glass of orange juice with a loud "Ah" and a satisfied smack of his lips.

Kate smiles shyly, a strawberry poised at her lips, and then she turns to look at him. "Have you ever feared doing something for a really long time and then when you finally tackle it you wonder why you were so scared after all?"

"Am I the something you just 'tackled' by any chance?" asks Castle, smiling mischievously in between sips of his coffee.

"Shh," laughs Kate, poking his arm. "You know what I mean. Why did I wait to do this? That's what I keep wondering. Why did I keep us on ice for so long?"

"On ice?" laughs Castle, somewhat surprised by her choice of words.

"Yeah, you know what I mean. It was as if we were in some kind of suspended animation…a stasis. We – you and me – we always felt…inevitable somehow. Meant to be, you know? At least we did to me," she admits, gnawing on her lip.

Castle's face grows more serious as Kate's take on their relationship washes over him, slowly sinking in. The realization that she's thought about them as much as he has is stunning and completely unexpected. He always believed he was alone in his belief in their ability to form something lasting, something so right that on his most optimistic days it felt as Kate has just described - inevitable - though those days were few and far between.

"For me it was more that I hoped…" Castle confesses, matching her honesty with a few truths of his own, even if it casts him in a weaker, slightly more desperate light. "I hoped until I couldn't anymore. Until it got to be too painful. But nothing ever felt guaranteed. So many things seemed to keep us apart or get in the way."

Kate reaches out and squeezes his arm.

"There were times I—" He shakes his head, unable to articulate what might have been, had it not been for her in the end. "Anyway," he says, clearing his throat, "that's all in the past now."

Kate nods in agreement. "I'm sorry, Castle. But you're right, it is. In the past."

Castle shakes his napkin onto the tray and then makes a rough attempt at refolding it.

"Breakfast was perfect. Thank you. Just what I needed," he tells her, placing his napkin back onto the tray.

"So…does that mean you're feeling better?" asks Kate a little coyly.

"Much. Why? Did you have something in mind?" he teases, leaning over to kiss her temple.

The kiss is quick and light, natural, but over within the blink of an eye, and then he's leaning back against his own pillows, in his own space once again. They're slightly shy with one another now, almost tentative and timid, unsure in a way they haven't been for years. But then they haven't shared a bed for the night or eaten breakfast together in their nightclothes with declarations of love hovering in the air between them.

Kate collects their dishes, reloads the tray, and then she gets out of bed to take it through to the kitchen.

"Here, you've done enough. Let me," insists Castle, scrambling to pull himself together and get out of bed.

"No. No, you stay here. Gather your strength. I'll be right back," she promises, hurrying out of the bedroom in her bare feet with the tray in her hands.

When Kate returns a couple of minutes later, she's carrying two small bottles of water. She puts one on the table by her own side of the bed and hands one to Castle.

"Drink. Gotta keep hydrated. Only real way to cure a hangover."

When she gets back in beside him, she flattens the covers out over her lap, collapses back against the pillows and then she slaps her hands down either side of her thighs, the whole routine conducted with a strange kind of energetic finality that is really something closer to nerves on her part.

Castle watches her the entire time, amazed at how easy it is to be with this woman he has loved and longed for for so long, though they've engaged in nothing more sexual than some passionate kissing so far.

They look at one another once Kate finally stops moving, the crazy smiles blooming on their faces making them look slightly deranged.

"Look at us," whispers Kate, letting herself tip over so she's leaning against Castle's shoulder. "We look ridiculous."

Castle presses a kiss to her hair before he whispers his answer. "No one can see us, Kate. We can be as ridiculous as we like."

Kate feels around on top of the covers until she finds Castle's hand, and then she wriggles her fingers under his palm, joining them together. She's sitting up in bed with her partner on a Saturday morning and she can think of nowhere else she'd rather be.

"Wanna take a nap?" asks Castle, when her head lands heavily on his shoulder.

"Do you?" asks Kate, turning her head and slanting her eyes until she can see his face.

"I asked you first," he teases, clutching her hand tighter, resting his own head lightly against the top of hers.

"Seems…"

"Decadent?" suggests Castle.

"Mmm. I was actually going to say wasteful. A waste of a day off."

"We're both exhausted, Kate. You hardly slept last night. There will be other days off…lots of them," he promises her, kissing her crown.

He releases her hand, taking the decision for them, and then he helps her to ease down under the covers until they are lying facing one another, each resting on their sides.

They look at one another, studying familiar features as if seeing something new, something fresh, now that certain truths have been shared. It's as if a veil has been lifted. Castle reaches out and smooths an errant curl off Kate's forehead, then he strokes her cheek with the tip of his finger and watches as her eyes drift closed.

She remains that way for several seconds and then just when Castle is about to close his own eyes, when he thinks she's fallen asleep, she opens them again.

"I can't get used to this," she confesses, biting down on her lip.

"Me being here?"

"Not…no, not just that. Being out the other side of the…the mess we'd got ourselves into. Feels like this weight has been lifted."

"For me too," agrees Castle, nodding, his hair brushing quietly against the fabric of the pillowcase.

"I'm so tired, but I think I'm too excited to sleep," whispers Kate, laughing quietly at her own unfiltered ridiculousness.

"I know the feeling. Just try and relax. We have all weekend and then some. You won't get rid of me easily now, Beckett. You're stuck with me."

Kate reaches out and strokes his cheek. Castle turns his head and kisses her palm, and then he looks up at her again, all the love he feels for her plain to see shining in his eyes.

"Tell me something," he whispers, watching her lashes rise and fall as she blinks slowly. "Something no one else knows about you."

"You mean like a secret?" grins Kate, before wrinkling her forehead into an amused frown.

"I mean anything you can think to share with me?"

Kate purses her lips together and thinks for a few seconds, her cheeks growing flushed as she dances around inside her own brain picking and choosing from the numerous hidden, embarrassing facts she's not sure she wants him to know even now.

"Hey, stop over thinking it," chides Castle, chuckling at her vexed expression. He tweaks her nose and then waits patiently for her to answer him.

"I'm not sure I'm quite ready to explode the myth," replies Kate, playing for time.

"And what myth is that?"

"The myth that gave you Nikki. This…badass, ice cool detective you see in me."

"Kate, you are all of that and then some. But I fell in love with all of you," he tells her, in all seriousness. And this is only the second time he has said it back, the second time he has reaffirmed his feelings towards her since everything blew up in their faces yesterday, and she'd happily hear it again and again without ever tiring of those words.

"I like pink," she blurts suddenly, surprising them both.

They stare at one another wide-eyed for a beat, before dissolving into giggles. Kate buries her face in her hands and her pillow, and Castle tugs on her wrist, trying to prize her hand away from her eyes.

"That's the best you've got? Badass Beckett likes girly pink? Come on there must be more. Something darker, more embarrassing," he cajoles.

"Okay," she says, squaring her shoulders and clearing her throat, like she's gearing up to something big. "I once snuck into one of your book signings."

Castle's eyes widen – two whirlpools of surprised blue – and he clamps one hand over his mouth to suppress an unmanly squeak of excitement.

"It was back when I was working undercover in narcotics."

Castle is frozen silent in anticipation of more details. He nods to encourage her to tell him more.

"I think the security guard thought I was a hooker," she says, before hiding her eyes with her hands again, embarrassed by the memory of that day.

"You—? No wait. You actually came to one of my signings? When was this, Kate? Since we've known each other or…no…no you've never worked narcotics since I—Please tell me I wasn't a jerk?" he begs, his face a tumultuous picture of excitement, concern and regret.

"You weren't a jerk," parrots Kate, laughing at the look of horror that appears on Castle's face.

"Okay, now tell me the truth," groans Castle, settling in for her story.

"I came off the end of a big job. We'd been working in a club overnight, setting up a sting. The drug deal went down around one. We yanked a small cabal of bad guys off the streets, seized a reasonable sized stash, and then went back to the precinct to process the lot. I got off at eleven the next morning. But I was too wired to go home and sleep immediately, so I decided to take a walk…in my undercover getup," she groans, shaking her head at the memory.

"And?" encourages Castle, looking at her sideways, his head now resting flat on the pillow.

"And…I was passing by the Barnes and Noble store on East 17th Street. You know the one on the top edge of—"

"Union Square. Yes. Of course I know it," says Castle, his voice a mixture of awe and excitement.

"So, anyway, I was walking past the windows and there was this big display. A life-size cardboard cutout of…well, you, with stacks of the latest Derrick Storm piled up on either side, which I hadn't had time to buy yet, and there was a poster advertising a book signing which was taking place between ten and two that very day. It felt like fate," says Kate, reaching out to touch Castle's arm.

She trails her fingers up and down the smooth skin on his forearm, watching as goose bumps rise in the path of her touch, and then she looks into his eyes again.

"The line was…shorter by eleven-thirty when I got there. Morning rush was over I guess. I was kind of nervous by the time I got to the front. You tried to flirt with me," she tells him, a mellow, wistful smile on her face.

"Oh God," groans Castle, rolling closer to her and burying his face in the crook of her arm.

"No," she whispers, running her hand through his hair and then leaning closer to kiss his head. "Don't be embarrassed. I'm the one who was dressed head to toe in leather and black lace."

"And I missed that?" squeaks Castle, looking up at her again. "How did I miss that?"

"You didn't miss it at the time. I looked…ridiculous. Like an extra from that Madonna video…you know the one for 'Like a Virgin'?"

"And were you?" purrs Castle, reaching out to grab her, tickling her until she curls her knees up and finds the energy to fight him off.

"Was I what?" she laughs, all out of breath once he lets her go. "A virgin?"

Kate shakes her head at him, a dusting of pink warming her cheeks.

"Go on. You can tell me," he whispers, tucking one finger under her chin. And when did they get so close? "Promise I won't judge you," he tells her, leaning in to press his lips against hers, stealing the air from her lungs in the process with a sweet, demanding kiss.

"I was eighteen," she tells him when they inevitably part, forced to seek air. She looks down, a little shyly at first, head ducked at the silence that follows her confession. Then she drags her gaze back up to meet his. "Freshman year of college. Guy from my French Lit class. We dated for a couple of months...after and then we broke up. Stayed friends though. No big deal. No big drama. What about you?"

"I wish I had known you then," says Castle wistfully.

"No. You don't," Kate tells him firmly. "We—it wouldn't have been anything like it is today. We're both different people now. We…we need each other for reasons that didn't exist back then, Castle. So…now you!" she grins, tugging on the front of his t-shirt.

"Nah, you're gonna be disappointed in me," he groans, shaking his head and rolling away onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

"Rick, tell me," she insists, scooting in closer to him, resting her head on his biceps and one hand on his stomach. "Come on. Turn about is fair play."

Castle cringes before he opens his mouth to speak, eyes screwed tightly closed. "I was fourteen," he confesses. "She was…an older woman."

"How much older?" asks Kate, fascinated and only slightly jealous.

"Nineteen. Stella Hartman. Waitress at a diner on 83rd and Lex. She had a car, an old Honda Accord of her dad's. We—anyway, that's enough about me," says Castle, burying his face in her hair.

"Oh, come on," protests Kate, when he refuses point-blank to tell her anything more.

"No, enough about my adolescent fumbling. Tell me more about you. You're much more interesting."

Kate shakes her head, a silly, romantic smile on her face, and then she pulls back a little so that she can look Castle in the eye.

"No. You tell me something. Something you've never told anyone else," she asks, lacing their fingers together.

"But what if I tell you and you hate me?" he asks her, haltingly.

"You haven't killed anyone, have you? Because that could get…well, kind of awkward at work," jokes Kate.

"No. Never committed murder," admits Castle.

"Good. Then what? Come on, it can't be that bad. I promise you'll feel better once you tell me," she coaxes. "A problem shared and all that..."

Castle gathers himself for a moment and Kate can feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach at how close they are, how easy and fun being with him is today, even if she is still a little nervous.

He runs a hand down over his face, takes a deep breath, and then he swiftly says the words that have been trapped in his head for years, watching carefully for Kate's reaction. "I…I don't think I ever loved Gina."

Kate startles a little. "Oh!" she says, this confession clearly not what she was expecting. "But you married her," she points out, with a puzzled frown.

"I know. I know," groans Castle, covering his eyes with his hand again.

"And then you…you went back to her after we were—"

The tone in Kate's voice grips something inside of Castle strongly enough that he has to look at her to try to fathom where her aborted sentence was leading before she censored the thought.

"After we were what?" he asks, holding onto her wrist.

"Working together," she says swiftly, shrugging as if it's nothing more than that.

"And…? What else, Kate? I know that tone. There's more there than you're saying. What is it?"

"Nothing," she says, uselessly denying that there's something, because even she can hear it in her own voice as much as she tries to play it off as insignificant.

"No. No, that is not nothing. Tell me? Is it because I married her and it was…convenient? I mean we worked on paper. We were a good team for a while. I just…" he shrugs. "I didn't love her."

"Wow!" sighs Kate, thinking this enlarged confession has let her off the hook. "That's—no wonder it didn't work out long term."

"Mmm," agrees Castle off-handedly, though the careful way he's studying her face tells her he isn't ready to drop the subject just yet.

"So, come on. What is it about my getting back with Gina when you and I were working together that's put that look on your face?"

"What look?" asks Kate suspiciously, touching her fingers to her face as if she'll be able to decipher what Castle has glimpsed and guessed at just by feeling her own features.

"That…pinched, hurt, disappointed look."

"Pinched, huh?" laughs Kate in surprise. "Didn't take you long to start hurling insults."

"Tell me or I will tickle you until you cry, Detective. And that is one skill I am expert at. Just ask Alexis. I win every time."

Kate sighs. If they're going to be honest with one another she supposes that sharing this little nugget of regret won't hurt.

"You remember when you asked me to go out to the Hamptons with you Memorial Day weekend? It was—"

"Right before I got back with Gina," supplies Castle, the horror of what Kate's about to say already dawning on him. "No," he says, shaking his head. "No. Tell me that I've got it wrong."

Kate shakes her own head, a sympathetic smile on her face. "You haven't got it wrong," she confirms, reaching out to touch his arm. "I…I'd decided to give it a go, to go with you…see how things went. And then…" Kate raises an eyebrow and ducks her head so he can't see the look of disappointment that flashes across her face all this time later.

"And then Gina showed up," fills in Castle, guessing the next part. "We were celebrating with the guys, you said you wanted to tell me something," he recalls. "Is that—?"

Kate nods.

"You were going to tell me…yes? That…that you were coming with me?"

"Look, I don't even know if things would have worked between us back then, Castle," she adds hastily, trying to make him feel better. "Maybe…maybe we would have crashed and burned. Who knows?"

"And maybe we would have been great," he suggests, his tone regretful and plaintive. "I'm such an ass."

Kate laughs. "No. No, you're not. You were dealing with me, remember? I wasn't…haven't exactly been the most open of partners."

"Promise me no more misunderstandings like that, Kate? I don't think my poor old heart could take it."

"I promise," she whispers, leaning in to kiss him gently. "Now, if we decided to make up for lost time…say…now. Would your poor old heart be able to cope or should I call Dispatch and have a bus on standby just in case?" giggles Kate, burying her face in the soft cotton covering his stomach.

When Castle suddenly reaches for her, grasping her around her waist, fingers pressing into soft curves, she squeals in surprise. He lifts her on top of him, and she is staggered by the sensation of this full body contact for the first time; how powerful and erotic it feels. Her thighs part either side of his hips, their pelvises pressed together by the weight of her body lying on top of his. She rests her elbows either side of his neck, loose curls tumbling forward to enclose them in a dark, private space, and then she kisses him for all she's worth.

She kisses him for all the times they messed up and missed out, lied and hid and kept each other waiting. She kisses him so that he can feel just how deeply she loves him, because more than anything that's the one truth she wants him to grasp and understand above all else – that he is loved by her without reserve; no caveats, no provisos, no strings from now on.

TBC... More to come, if you're still engaged with this tale. Love to hear your thoughts.