Author's Note: See notes on Chapter One for a more complete introduction. This chapter picks up with the events of episode 2.1 Deep in Death and contains both Beckett's point of view as well as Castle's—one just wouldn't work right without the other. In Kate's flashback, I'm revisiting my own fifth chapter of this story and adding a bit of postscript; I took some liberties in a conversation between Castle and Sorenson, and am following it up with a shorter one between Sorenson and Beckett, also probably not strictly in canon.

Disclaimer: Castle and its characters do not belong to me, I make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. I'm just enjoying some time with a few of my favorite characters. The story is mine, however, except where I'm directly quoting the episode.

Richard Castle, Grown-Up

Chapter Seven: I'm Very, Very Sorry

"Why can't they just say they're sorry?" Alexis' words rang in the silence.

Rick tried to process her words and came to a stunning realization: that's it! I never apologized to her, did I? Even once? He wanted to slam the heel of his hand into his forehead and scream "duh!" How could he have been so blind?

He thought back over the past week. He hadn't apologized for the "policewomen" or the photo shoot, for disrupting the entire precinct. He did feel terribly about intruding himself into her life again without giving her warning, but that last phone call she ignored had been his attempt to let her know that he would be there the following week for publicity purposes. After all, it wasn't really his fault; the magazine had insisted and the Mayor agreed, and he couldn't force her to answer her phone, could he? Still, he hadn't left the message he had intended on when he dialed her number; instead he'd hung up in frustration.

What he'd done that had angered her in the first place, digging into her mom's case, he owned that one; but had he told her that? He'd left message after message, trying to explain, but never simply saying those two little words: I'm sorry.

Before this week, Rick had never truly thought he'd see Detective Kate Beckett again. She hadn't answered any of his numerous phone calls and had made it crystal clear that there would be no forgiveness, regardless of his motivation. He knew that he had hurt her, deeply, and if the only way to make it better was for her to cut him out of her life, it was a just penance for him to pay.

If he had felt bad at not seeing her for the entire summer, it was much worse when she just didn't care whether he was around or not. Those had been the words she used: she didn't care anymore. So he set about making her care. He knew he was being annoying and stupid; did I really offer to buy her a pony? He couldn't help himself. At least an annoyed reaction would be similar to how they had started out and they could work from there again if they had to. Rick had to prove, both to himself and to Beckett, that she did care.

Working with her on another case had reawakened his desire to be near her; without a doubt he had realized that he needed to get her to let him back in. He had agreed to her deal, one case and then he'd leave her alone if that's what she still wanted. He thought one would be all he needed to insinuate himself back into her life, warning her that she'd change her mind.

The case ended, too soon to be sure that he had accomplished his purpose. He hoped against hope that their working together again had been the key to all of this, that he had been right when he told her she would change her mind. "We make a great team, you know." Then he put his nose where it didn't belong again, pushed his desires ahead of hers regarding Johanna's case: "We have good leads, we have strong leads. We could do it together." They'd been having a nice conversation, even bantering back and forth again, and he'd just had to go there. Tactical error. Big time.

Her quiet outburst began and he knew he'd blown it once more. Why hadn't he just left well enough alone? "You dredged up my past for you, Castle, not for me, and you're too selfish to even see it. The case is closed. We made a deal, and I expect you to honor it."

He had crossed the line she had drawn in the sand, repeatedly. Perhaps he had initially crossed it before he knew just exactly where it had been drawn, but he should have asked before he ever moved his feet. Castle realized now that what he had justified as wanting to help her had been just exactly what she had accused him of: selfishly pursuing what he wanted, thoughtless of how Kate would feel about it or the impact that it would have on her.

He saw things very clearly in this instant, thanks to his daughter. Hugging Alexis tightly to him, he uttered a simple, "thank you." She had given him the key, and he wasn't going to wait to try one final time. He hoped Beckett was still at her desk.

It had been a hard day. Finishing up paperwork, she acknowledged that seeing Castle again was a roller coaster ride that didn't stop: one minute she was trying not to laugh at his ridiculous antics and fighting the enjoyment she derived from just being around him, the next she wanted to strangle him with her own two hands.

They had argued yet again, just hours ago. At least it was over, finally. She had made her decision clear; it didn't matter if it hurt her, too. This way the wounds would be allowed to heal, given enough time.

Months ago, she had stormed away from him, never looking back. After wandering around outside the hospital for what seemed like hours trying to release her anger to avoid venting it on Will, she returned to his room. He was fast asleep, the medication finally demanding he rest.

The next day, she went to the hospital again after getting off shift at the precinct. She knocked softly on the door as she entered the room. "Hey, you're awake. How are you doing?" She moved the chair closer to his bedside and sat down.

"Kate! I'm good as new. Well, almost, anyway. They'll be turning me loose sometime tomorrow. How are you doing?"

"I'm good." She pasted the required smile in place.

"Liar."

"What?"

"You never came back after your chat with Writer Monkey. What happened?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. And I did come back, but you were doing your best impression of Sleeping Beauty."

Her attempt at shifting the conversation didn't work. "He came to talk to me, you know, after you left."

She was stunned. Why would he do that?

"He's sorry that you got hurt. He said that he never meant to cause you pain."

"It doesn't matter, Will. He did what I asked him not to do. I did get hurt. And if he's so sorry, why didn't he tell me so himself?"

"Castle said he did—"

"No. He didn't." She bit out the words. Why was Will pushing this, anyway? She thought he'd be happy to see the novelist depart. "He kept trying to explain himself. He never once told me he was sorry. There's a big difference." She looked down at her lap and a sigh rose from deep within her chest. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

Will placed his hand atop hers as it rested on the hospital bed, squeezing it in a silent plea. When she glanced up, he quietly answered her question. "Sure. But do me a favor and at least consider forgiving him—for your sake as well as his?"

They went on to talk about other things, most of which she didn't remember. Her mind was engaged in a struggle, trying to process what Will had told her against her still white-hot anger at what Castle had done.

To think that she had admitted to the captain that she didn't believe she could have solved the case without him! After that admission, after accepting him, he had betrayed her by doing the one thing she had asked him not to. It didn't matter that he was unaware of what she told Montgomery; Castle had gotten her to lower her defenses and then taken advantage of that. She wouldn't let him do it again.

She had been right about him all along. Mr. Modesty had told the interviewer from Cosmopolitan that he'd been essential to solving some of their toughest cases. He was arrogant. He was selfish. He was insufferable. His attitude was simply another log to add to the fire of her anger, one more thing to keep her defenses against him strong.

Those defenses needed all the shoring up she could give them, too. Working with him again just felt right, like a comfortable pair of shoes. His theories could be wild, but sometimes they were right. Then there were those tough cases where he made the day—well, fun.

She was tempted to take Will's advice and forgive Castle, to just move on as before. His charm was a potent weapon against the wall she had tried to build up against him. She could ignore his calls all day long, but when he was right in front of her, it was so much more difficult to pretend that she wanted nothing to do with him. Truth be told, she had looked back on her time with Castle, and it wasn't always in anger—they had enjoyed some fun together and she missed him.

Still, she reminded herself, he did the one thing I asked him not to, and I won't open myself up to that kind of hurt again. I can't. Firmly pushing Richard Castle out of her conscious mind, she returned to the paperwork.

Arriving at the precinct, he exited the elevator and looked toward Kate's desk. She was still here. He exhaled, glad for one more chance, but realizing that this was truly his last opportunity to make it right. As he came to stand beside her desk, he waited until she acknowledged his presence; it seemed an eternity before she looked at him, anger and something else he didn't dare identify still flashing in her eyes.

Without preamble, he launched in. "I'm sorry. What I did was wrong. I violated your trust, I opened old wounds and I did not respect your wishes. And if we're not going to see each other again, then you deserve to know: I'm very, very sorry."

No response.

It hadn't been enough.

He nodded his understanding and turned around, moving several desks away before he heard her voice. "Castle? I'll see you tomorrow." That was all she said as she retuned to her paperwork, but it was sufficient to let him know that she had decided.

He smiled and resumed his journey to the elevator, thankful that she had at last forgiven him. Tempted to dance through the building, he restrained himself as much as possible but refused to hide the sheer joy shining from his face; the feeling of finally repairing their broken relationship was just too wonderful to contain. Things will get back to normal, he thought, whatever that looks like.