A/N: This should be a nice long chapter to keep you occupied for a little while. As promised, I think it'll answer a lot of questions. Hope you like it!

Chapter 9

Family

She'd been able to feel herself pulling away from Castle ever since they had sex. She knew he'd noticed, but she didn't want him to get the wrong idea, so she'd compensated by trying to dig deeper, to give him more in her writing than she ever had before.

It wasn't that she regretted that night, not exactly. She definitely didn't regret dating him, if that was even the right word. They still hadn't really been on an official date, not to anywhere except each other's houses. But she loved kissing Castle, and holding his hand, and seeing him outside of work… in fact, she hadn't been completely honest with him when she'd said that she needed space. She would've loved to have seen him that night, but she was scared.

The night of the dinner, after his family had left, had been so perfect. Too perfect. So perfect that she couldn't imagine anything ever topping it. When she realized that, she'd started to get nervous. Two minutes into the relationship, and it had already peaked. Now there was nowhere to go but down. So she'd tried to backtrack, to start taking things more slowly again, but there were some lines that couldn't be uncrossed. As far as she could tell, all her effort had done was make Castle nervous, make him think that she was rethinking their relationship, and that was exactly what she didn't want him to think.

She was trying. Trying to open herself up. Trying to fully let him in. But this time, more than ever before, in any relationship she'd ever had, there was so much at stake. If things didn't work out, if it ended badly, if it ended at all... everything would change. He'd become so big a part of her life that she had trouble imagining what her life would be like now without him. The same as before she met him, she guessed… but she didn't want to go back to that. She hadn't been happy then. She'd been getting by, but she hadn't been happy. Now she was happy. She was really happy. But if there was one thing she'd learned in her life so far, it was that nothing could last forever.

She knew it wasn't fair to Castle to keep changing her mind every two minutes, going from kissing him and wanting to be with him to holding him at arm's length, and she knew it wasn't fair that she wouldn't let him tell anyone other than his family that they were together. He was being so great to her. Being there with her through the anniversary of her mother's death. Helping her with the writing project. Letting her spend time with his family when she'd thought it was what she'd wanted. That had been too much, she now realized. She'd gotten swept up in the excitement of the new relationship and had tried to go too far too fast. That whole evening had been kind of a disaster. It had started out fine, but she realized now that her reasons for the meal, the whole to-do, were wrong. She hadn't just been trying to get closer to Castle's family, it still seemed too early for that. She'd been trying to use them as a substitute for the family that she missed, which they weren't, and she'd been trying to be her mother, who she wasn't, and would never be. When she realized that, she'd ended up in such a vulnerable place that the sex had just kind of happened, and again, it was too far too fast.

Almost a week had passed since that night, and she had yet even to see Castle outside of work. She knew it was driving him crazy, and she felt badly about that, so finally she'd agreed to a writing date at his place. A true step backward, back to the way things had been before the disastrous evening and the night she didn't regret, but did wish hadn't happened just yet.

Castle had told her that Martha and Alexis were both spending the evening out, and she was grateful for that. She hadn't spoken to either of them since her minor but completely unjustified freak-out about the burnt garlic bread. She'd told Castle to apologize for her, and she was sure that he had, but she wasn't ready to face them herself just yet. She'd been an awful hostess and she knew it, and she was sure that both Martha and Alexis would be perfectly understanding, but honestly, that was part of the problem. She didn't deserve for them to completely understand, completely forgive her. Not just yet.

As she expected, Castle answered the door. But there were noises coming from inside that he was clearly not causing, and his face, as soon as she saw it, was twisted into a grimace. "I'm sorry," he apologized, the first thing out of his mouth. "We're not alone."

When she walked in the door, the scene that met her was all too familiar, but she couldn't have been more surprised by it. Alexis and Martha were there, standing beside the couch, squared off, yelling at each other. Yelling.

She hadn't realized how romanticized the ideas she'd formed about Castle's family were until this moment, when they all came crashing down around her. In her mind, Alexis and her grandmother didn't fight. They didn't even disagree. Alexis was the angelic daughter who had the occasional teenage problem, but most of what she heard she'd always been sure was blown out of proportion by Castle. Martha was the glamorous and somewhat self-absorbed, but ultimately wise, mother. Alexis respected her grandmother at least as much as she respected her father, and Martha adored her granddaughter.

She should've realized that this wasn't completely true, wasn't even possible. No family was perfect, and no two people who spent a lot of time together lived without disagreement. Another fact she knew well was that no teenage girl got along seamlessly with her mother. True, Martha wasn't Alexis's mother, but they did live together while Alexis and her mother didn't, and it was easy to imagine Martha playing a maternal sort of role from time to time, which would've included both the good and the bad.

"Come on," Castle said over the noise, which hadn't died down when she entered. "My office will be at least a little quieter."

She tried not to listen as she walked past, as what they were fighting about really wasn't her business, but caught a few snippets anyway. "You don't have any idea what you're talking about!" she heard Alexis squeal. "Next time you want to give me advice, at least make sure you have some basic grasp of the situation!"

"How dare you talk to me like that!" she heard Martha retort before Castle closed the door to his study, blocking out most of the noise.

He shook his head violently. "I hate it when they do that."

She frowned and took the seat opposite his desk. "Do they do it often?"

"No, hardly ever. You just got lucky, I guess. I'm sorry. I know I told you they wouldn't be here, and they weren't supposed to be, but plans kind of got cancelled when World War 3 broke out."

"Ah, it's not your fault." But she realized she had no idea what they were fighting about. For all she knew, it could've been his fault. "What started it, anyway?"

"I wasn't there for the beginning, and I haven't been able to get either of them to calm down long enough to tell me anything coherent, but from what I can gather my mom said something about one of Alexis's friends that Alexis didn't like. And all hell broke loose."

"It's a hard time," she told him, trying to be a little consolatory. "Toward the end of high school trying to get into college? I remember that, it was stressful. I fought with my parents a lot, too. And knowing Alexis, I'm sure she's taking some hard classes, and that doesn't help."

"Yeah… you're probably right. No matter what my mother said, lashing out like that isn't Alexis."

She nodded. But he still looked bothered. "You okay?"

"Oh yeah, thanks, I'm fine." He sat down and painted an unrealistic smile on his face. "You ready to write?"

She took out her notebook and flipped to the next blank page. "I'm ready."

He smiled. "Then get started."

When she first put her pen to the paper, she didn't have the slightest idea what she was going to write about, but she didn't let that stop her. She'd withdrawn from him so much in real life that she had to figure out some way to make up for it, and this writing project seemed as good a place as any. And now, on top of that, he was upset that his mother and daughter were fighting and she wanted to help him feel better. However, actually physically comforting him seemed like it could be a little… dangerous, and she'd already told him everything she could think of out loud, so she thought she might be able to help a little more this way.

She followed the advice he'd once given her, and she didn't think. She just wrote. And as she wrote, she dug, trying to break through the surface tension, to write everything as she remembered it, leaving no fact, no detail or bit of information, unrecorded.

My mom and I didn't always get along perfectly. When I was a teenager, our relationship was pretty typical. Sometimes we were close, and other times we drove each other crazy. I was by no means a perfect daughter, and at times she could be a little more protective than I would've liked.

When I was a senior in high school, our relationship hit an all-time low. I couldn't be in the same room with her for more than a few minutes at a time. I felt like she was constantly nagging, about my friends, my grades, the music I listened to, the motorcycle I wanted to buy, and eventually did buy…everything.

One night, just a couple of weeks after I got my bike, she was upset with me for getting a B in French, which was usually one of my best subjects. She told me that I was working too much and that if I didn't focus on school I'd never get into a good college. She wanted me to quit my job, but I needed to work to pay for the insurance on my motorcycle, and she wasn't willing to help with that. She told me to sell it and put the money toward college, and I snapped. I told her that if I was such a terrible daughter it must have been because she was a bad mother, give or take a little profanity, and I walked out of the house. I took my bike and rode it around for awhile, and ended up staying at a friend's house for the night.

Objectively, she knew that the writing wasn't her best. She hadn't dug deep enough, hadn't used any specific dialogue, and hadn't even written down everything she remembered, but she found that when she reached the end of the paragraph she couldn't go any further. There was one specific detail that she couldn't write, couldn't put into words, but couldn't get out of her mind. Right before she'd left that night, she'd caught a glimpse of her mother's face, and there had been tears in her eyes. And in her bitter, teenage, hormone-and-stress-induced furor, she'd been glad. Satisfied. She'd felt as though her mission had been accomplished. And still she'd left, refused to go home again for almost twenty-four hours.

My God, she realized, fully for the first time. I was a nightmare. She felt tears stinging her own eyes as she stared at the page with a blank sort of horror.

"You okay?" she heard Castle ask. She'd all but forgotten that he was there, lost as she was in her own memory, and the sound of his voice pulled her back to the present as it always did, but this time it wasn't a gentle pull. She didn't feel the cushion of his presence that she was used to, the familiar assurance that he was there and everything would be alright. It was more like he'd yanked her into the moment face-first, and nothing was alright. She'd been a horrible daughter, and since her mother was dead, she'd never be able to correct that. She'd never be able to apologize, never be able to make up for all the trouble she'd caused, and there was nothing that Castle could do to soften that blow. Instead he'd strengthened it. His family had reminded her of the way they used to fight, and he'd encouraged her to delve deep into her memory and unearth all the details she could scrounge, the details that sharpened all of her memories, even, if not especially, the painful ones.

"No," she heard herself say, slamming her notebook closed and looking him in the eye. "Why did you make me do this? Why did you make me come here? Why did you make me start this whole stupid project in the first place?" Then she stood up and stormed out of the room, this time not making the mistake of turning around to see the face of the person she'd just hurt.

She had every intention of leaving and no intention of every coming back. She'd gone too far, given too much. She'd pushed her personal space bubble so far that it had burst, and she had no choice but to run, leaving the notebook and pen that he'd bought her behind. Her writing project and her relationship with Castle would end just as they'd begun: together. He would read her last piece, realize was a terrible person she was, and leave her alone. Forever.

But she was met at the door by Martha. "What happened?" the older woman asked warily, blocking her way. "What did he do?"

"Nothing. Martha, please. I'm going home."

"What happened?" she repeated, a stubborn resolve in her eye that Kate could tell she wouldn't be able to overcome.

"I just have to go," she said, filled with her own stubbornness.

"Not until you tell me what's going on between you and my son." Martha's eyes were steely, full of tenacity that was leftover, Kate guessed, from her argument with Alexis. "You spend every minute together, then you spend the night together, and then you barely see each other at all. Something happened. Maybe not tonight, but something did. What?"

"I don't see how it's any of your business," she murmured, somewhat rudely.

"It is my business because I want my son to be happy, and I've had my eyes open long enough to see that he's never really going to be happy unless he's with you. Now you tell me, what happened?"

"I just can't do this anymore," she managed, blinking back tears. "Let me go."

"Does this have anything to do with that project the two of you have been working on?" Martha asked, showing no sign that she was going to move from the doorway.

Kate shrugged, but Martha saw through it, and she blanched. "He told you about that, I guess?"

She nodded. "It must be difficult for you at times. Remembering."

Kate was finding it harder to stop the tears from coming now. "I… I thought it might be easier to remember than to forget… but I don't know anymore."

"But that isn't Richard's fault, is it?" Martha asked gently.

Slowly, Kate shook her head.

"Come have a cup of coffee with me." Martha nodded toward the kitchen, and it was more a statement than a question, but she didn't leave the doorway until Kate nodded. "Sit," she said, motioning to one of the stools at the counter as she led the detective back into the apartment. "I'll be right with you."

When the coffee was brewing, Martha sat down at the stool beside Kate's. "You know, you're not the only one who's lost a parent."

She was a little taken aback by Martha's directness. "I… I know?" she managed.

"It happens to all of us eventually, and it's always painful. More tragic when it happens out of time… but it is something that we all have to experience. I understand that at my age it's to be expected, but both of my parents have been gone for a number of years."

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say here. "I'm sorry, Martha."

But she kept on, not even pausing to acknowledge Kate's response. "Now, I understand my circumstances and yours were vastly different. Both of my parents lived long lives and died of natural causes, and your mother didn't get the chance to do either…"

She felt the tears welling in her eyes again, and apparently Martha saw them again, because she paused.

"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I don't mean to bring all of this up again, but if you'll allow me, I haven't reached my point yet."

She swallowed and nodded. "Go ahead."

"My parents were good parents, by their own definition, but they were very strict. Very religious. The first time I ever sang publicly was in their church's youth choir. It didn't take me many years to discover that it was not the life for me. The first time I told my mother I wanted to be an actress, I thought she was going to faint. But somehow, that only made me more determined. I was in high school by the time I managed to save enough money to apply for a Broadway training program, and when I got accepted, they threw me out of the house. For a few years I really only saw them on holidays, and then when I told them I was pregnant, out of wedlock, and not only did I have no intention of getting married, but I had no idea who the father was… they were done with me. In their eyes, they had failed. They had failed to raise a daughter who could live up to their standards. And I… I had failed to be a daughter who could live up to their standards."

Now Kate really didn't know what to say. She didn't know what she'd expected to come out of this conversation, but it definitely wasn't this.

Martha took a deep breath and said quietly, "I've never told anyone all of this. Not even Richard. He never knew his grandparents, but I don't think he ever really understood why. After awhile he stopped asking. My guess is that the stories he made up satisfied his curiosity."

Kate frowned. "I've never known him to give up on a mystery before it was solved."

Martha shrugged. "Maybe he figured it out and never told me, or maybe he made up a story that he believed… regardless. It doesn't really matter. My point is that there were periods of time, sometimes long ones, when I felt very alone in the world. I expect this feeling is one that you're not altogether unfamiliar with."

She cleared her throat. "I, um… I think that would be a safe assumption."

"Now, I understand that my story and yours bear very few similarities, but there is one commonality. And that is Richard. When I was at my most confused, my most vulnerable, at the time in my life when I felt the most alone… he came along, and he gave me a family again. And I think that if you're willing to let him, he'll do the same for you."

The coffee was done, and Martha got up to pour two cups. Kate literally felt dizzy. She knew that Martha wasn't wrong.

"Cream and sugar?" Martha asked.

"Fine." She didn't much care what was in her coffee at the moment, as long as she could drink it.

Martha set a cup in front of her and she took a long sip. It was hot and strong, exactly as she wanted it to be. When she was done drinking, she turned to the older woman again. "What if I can't give him what he needs?"

She smiled. "Darling, all he needs is someone who cares about him. If you're concerned about that, then it's already you."

"But he… he can anticipate my every need, everything I could possibly want, and he gets it for me, or does it, whatever it is. The only thing he's asked of me is that I let him tell people we're together, and I couldn't even do that."

"Why not?"

"Because… everything was going so well. I'm not ready to ruin it. I'm not ready to be in the tabloids as 'Richard Castle's cop girlfriend.' It's bad enough that people know me as 'the real Nikki Heat.' If it gets out that I'm actually in a relationship with 'the real Jameson Rook'…" She sighed. "I didn't sign up for that. I don't want my personal life printed all over page six. That's not who I am. And even at work, if everyone finds out that we're together? I'll never hear the end of it."

Martha smiled. "Maybe I read you wrong, but I wouldn't have thought you were one to put so much stock in other people's opinions."

Immediately, she had no retort for that. Again, Martha had a point.

"What are you afraid of, darling? You love him, don't you? Let him know."

She started to take another long drink of her coffee, but stopped short when Castle emerged from his study, and appeared to be as surprised to see her as she was to see him. "You're still here."

All at once, she remembered what she'd written earlier and why she'd tried to leave. Maybe Martha was right and Castle could give her a family again, but she couldn't be part of a family. She wasn't any good at it. And he knew that now. He knew what a terrible daughter she'd been. "I was just leaving," she lied, starting to get up.

"Oh, she was not." Martha casually glanced into Kate's coffee cup. "She still has… half a cup of coffee yet. My goodness, you drank that fast."

She ignored Martha's comment about her coffee-drinking speed and stayed focused on Castle. "I'm sorry I'm still here," she told him. "I didn't mean to be, your mom just… I got distracted. I'll go now."

"What did I do?" he asked simply. "Remember, you promised me that if I did something to upset you you'd tell me what it was? Well, obviously I upset you. What did I do?"

She was only able to maintain eye contact with him for a second before she looked away. "You didn't do anything," she told her shoes.

"Then why are you trying to leave?"

She met his eyes again, making it a kind of game, trying to see how long she could hold eye contact. "Didn't you read what I wrote? I figured you did, you were in there for awhile."

He nodded. "I did."

"So… you know what an awful daughter I was."

He smiled. "You were a teenage girl. I can hardly hold that against you. You said it yourself, stress and hormones… it must be hard."

She blushed. "I was talking about Alexis, not me."

"You were talking about Alexis based on your own experience. You made that clear in your writing. And I don't believe that you were a bad daughter, not for a second."

He was doing it again. That thing where he told her exactly what she needed to hear, even though she hadn't known what that was until he said it. She looked at Martha, who was still in the room, just watching. The older woman nodded, and Kate realized that she knew how to counter it this time. "We'll tell Ryan and Esposito tomorrow," she said softly.

For a minute, he looked puzzled. "Tell them…?" But then realization dawned on his face, and he smiled. "Really?"

She nodded. She hadn't lost the game yet, she was still holding his eye contact. So she bumped herself up to level two, and took a step closer to him. Eye contact still holding strong, she took another step. Level three. She raised herself onto her toes just slightly. Level four. She let her lips meet his and her eyelids slid closed. And although she'd broken her eye contact, it didn't feel like she'd lost the game. It felt more like she'd won.

A/N (again!): I've been planning this chapter for awhile. It was fun, but tedious, to write. But hopefully it does resolve a lot of questions, and I have a feeling the story as a whole will start getting fluffier from here.

I'm especially curious about what you thought of Martha's backstory. Believable? At any rate, it was fun to write. Review please! And thanks! :)