The End of Lonely Street

a/n: An AU post-ep for episode 4x20, 'The Limey.'

"Back there."

The bartender tilted his head, directing her gaze toward the back end of the long bar that ran almost the entire length of The Old Haunt. Kate followed the line with her eyes until they came to rest on the slumped form on the last bar stool. She sighed. Oh, Castle.

"Thanks, Tim."

It'd been one of the more bizarre phone calls she'd ever received, and that was saying a lot given her line of work. It'd certainly been the most unexpected. But when Tim had called her, she had slid off the bar stool, reached for her leather coat that she'd laid across the seat of the unoccupied stool to her right. It was instinctual; she didn't even really think about it until she found herself standing, having to lift her eyes to the man who'd been keeping her company for the last couple of hours. All it had taken was the familiar name spoken across the phone line. Castle needed her, and there was just no question she would go to him. Despite her bruised heart, despite the ache that had settled in the pit of her stomach, churning like bitter poison.

"It's okay, Kate. I get it." Colin Hunt had looked at her, too much understanding in his eyes, a hint of pity she didn't appreciate. "I have a plane to catch anyway."

It wasn't where she had wanted to be, wasn't the person with whom she had wanted to spend her time. Going out for drinks had been a mistake, and she'd known it from the moment she had accepted the invitation. They'd shared a nice enough conversation. He was handsome and interesting, and it'd been a decent distraction from the endless rotation of her thoughts, but her focus had been elsewhere.

She'd simply nodded. "Thanks for the drink."

He'd waved her off, and that'd been that.

So here she was, with her heart pounding against her ribs, forcing one foot in front of the other when all she wanted was to run away, anxious about having to confront his dark anger toward her once again, or worse, his indifference. She swallowed around the lump in her throat.

It was late. The bar lay quiet and empty, dark except for the few spotlights that illuminated the space behind the counter while Tim tended to his tasks after closing time, wiping its surfaces to a polish.

He didn't move when she reached his side, the stench of expensive bourbon enveloping him unmistakable. She laid a careful hand on his shoulder, tried to ignore the heat of his skin emanating through his shirt.

"Castle."

His head came up fast, swaying like a bobblehead, as if it was too heavy for his neck to hold until he found his balance (as much as one could call it balance in his drunken condition) and his eyes went comically wide when he saw her.

"Kaaaaaaaate! Hiiiiiii." He grinned dopily at her, such adoration on his face that she felt sucker-punched, breathless with shock. It was such an extreme contrast to the last time she'd seen him, when he'd looked at her with knit eyebrows, his gaze dark, unkind in a way she'd never seen directed at her before.

"You're heeeeere." He sighed, and if she didn't know better, she would've thought it sounded like relief.

Turned out Castle was a sentimental drunk.

"Uh yeah... Tim called me. Said you might need a ride home?"

"I s'pose. I'm a li'l drungggg…" He scrunched up his nose. "Drungggkkkk," he tried again, over-enunciating the consonants, his bourbon-laced breath almost making her stagger. Whoa. "Jus' a li'l..."

"I think that's an understatement. How about we get you home, hmm?"

"My home o' yourssss," he slurred, waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and then his face crumpled and he sighed dramatically. "Bu' you lie' to me." He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. "You don' love me..."

"I... What?"

"'M so lonely, Kate." He looked at her with pleading eyes, and her heart, her mangled, desolate heart shattered into a thousand pieces. For him, for them, for what they could've been. For this whole damn situation and she didn't even know what had happened between them! One moment they seemed to be tentatively moving toward each other, and next thing she knew, he stopped speaking to her and there was a blonde flight attendant hanging off his arm.

Suddenly he slapped his palms onto the bar top in a quick succession of slaps, so loud that Kate startled, jolting her whole body.

"Oooh since my baby lef' me…," he yelled out, slammed his palms on the bar again, one right after the other, bam bam. "I foun' n new place to dwell…"

Kate realized that he was trying to sing, slurring the lyrics of 'Heartbreak Hotel', his palms on the counter acting as his make-shift piano keys.

"Hm hm hm hm hm," he hummed, his eyebrows knit in deep thought, mumbling to himself. "'kay don't rememmer those lines…" Turning back toward the bar, he grabbed his tumbler and downed the last finger width in the glass before she could stop him.

"You make me so lonely baby," he crooned quietly at the empty glass, his voice like gravel. "I ge' so lonely, I ge' so lonely I coul' die."

And then his forehead thunked back onto the bar.

— — — — —

It took both Tim and herself to maneuver Castle off the bar stool and into the taxi that the bartender had called for her. Just barely awake, Castle was capable of climbing inside the back of the cab with less pushing and shoving than Kate had feared would be required. She slid in beside him, quickly mulling over her options. Really, she should just take him home, but what would his daughter think? Would Castle want Alexis to see him like that? Kate had known Castle liked to drink on occasion, but she'd never seen him this drunk. A little tipsy, at most. What the hell had happened to him? Why was he-?

"Hey lady, what's it gonna be?"

She startled at the voice of the driver dragging her back from her spinning thoughts, took a quick sideways glance at Castle who'd leaned his head back against the seat, eyes already closed.

Oh fuck it. She gave the driver her address.

The cab sailed through the quiet nighttime streets, the blur of lights and sounds muffled, and she felt completely alone, despite his presence. As if she'd been transported into some sort of twilight zone, a surreal world she no longer knew how to navigate.

She wanted to be angry, felt the churn of fury deep in her stomach, about little Miss Fun And Uncomplicated for whom he was now crooning about his loneliness. He'd left Kate behind with seemingly no warning, and the lump of sadness that had taken up permanent residence in her chest choked out everything else, left only room for the ever-growing ache of missing him, missing the tentative hope, the blooming love she'd felt, the comfort of his presence.

Castle's cheek landed on her shoulder and she looked over at him, found him sound asleep with his mouth hanging open. Warmth spread from her midsection at his closeness; she felt the blood pound in her veins, her fingertips. She lifted a hand, unable to stop herself, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. He mumbled something unintelligible and then he nestled his face into her neck, nuzzling her skin, inhaling a deep breath. His arm slid around across her stomach, his hold tightening around her middle. She sat stock-still, barely dared to breathe as he snuggled her body, a soft smile playing on his face as he dozed.

She had to shake him awake once the taxi had come to a stop at her apartment building. His eyes opened slowly, his irises almost black in the dim darkness of the car, his look drowsy as he focused on her, as if he couldn't quite believe in her presence.

"Kaaaaaaate!" He grinned at her with a dopey smile, his eyelids barely coming open. "Hiiiiiii."

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Hadn't they already been through this?

"Come on, time to go." She ordered, made the words sound clipped. He seemed to respond to that during work hours; she hoped it might work while he was drunk. Otherwise she had no idea how she'd even get him out of this cab. She stepped out of the car first and miraculously, he followed after her, grabbing onto her elbow with both hands.

"Let's go, Castle. March." He marched, steady enough that she could guide him through the lobby, up the elevator and along the hallway to her front door without too much staggering or wobbling.

Once they'd made it into her apartment, she maneuvered him toward the couch. "Sit down."

Ordering him around seemed to get through to him better than pleading, so she kept employing the strategy. She needed to get water and some aspirin in him, and then he'd hopefully be able to sleep it off.

"You so bossy," he slurred, waggling his eyebrows. "'S hot." He slumped into the cushions, and she turned for her kitchen to get a glass of water. This night was giving her whiplash. One moment he was literally punch-drunk happy to see her, the next he accused her of lying – what had he even meant by that? Then he slept half-draped across her chest, and called her hot. She wasn't as surprised by the latter; he'd never really hidden his attraction for her.

She took a glass from the cabinet, then grabbed the pitcher of filtered water from the fridge, filling the glass. She turned around, only to find that he was gone from the couch.

"Castle?" She called out, her eyes roaming her apartment until her gaze screeched to a halt seeing her bedroom door standing open when she knew it had been closed before. Oh no no no!

She found him sprawled out on his back on her bed, arms flung wide and his eyes closed again.

"Castle!"

"Whaaa...?" His eyes flew open and he sat up like a jack-in-the-box, looking startled, his irises darting around rapidly until he found her.

"Kaaaaaaaate." He grinned at her. "Hiiiiiiii." He let himself drop back into her pillows with a happy smile. "You're here."

Oh jeez. She rubbed her forehead.

"Of course I'm here. This is my apartment. My bed." She said pointedly, looking down at him.

"Ooooooh." His eyes widened and he bounced his butt on the mattress like a trampoline. "Is a nice bed. Ve'y com'table." He slid both his arms up and down across the sheets, as if he was making a snow angel. "A'ways wanned to be in your bed," he sighed melodramatically, hopping from one emotion to the next within the blink of an eye. "Ne'er thought it'd happen…"

That hurt, in that visceral way, tearing at her barely healed heart. She tried to tell herself not to take what he said too seriously, but didn't they say drunk people had lowered inhibitions, that they always spoke the truth? Ever since last fall when they'd talked on the swings, she'd thought he knew. She'd believed he had understood what she was working towards, what they were both waiting for. And to find out that apparently he'd never thought the same, had never wanted… She swallowed the tears that were threatening to climb up her throat. He looked damn good in her bed, too, broad and sexy against her dark sheets, and her body betrayed her, yearning for something she would never have.

His arms rose suddenly, his hands framing her face, dragging her closer. She stumbled forward and landed half on top of him, barely catching herself, her palms digging into the mattress. Her heart was racing, her thoughts a jumbled mess. The air felt charged, crackling between them as he stared into her eyes, and she felt herself leaning closer despite herself. His touch was hot on her skin, his eyes dark and burning, as if he was seeing inside her, dredging up all her secrets. She could smell the whiskey on his breath; she didn't want to kiss him when he was drunk, certainly didn't want to do anything he would regret in the morning, and she knew he'd regret it, regret her, his recent behavior had been more than clear and yet-

"Don' cry," he murmured, his thumb swiping over her cheekbone at a tear she wasn't even aware she had wept.

He looked at her earnestly. Imploringly.

"I love you soooooo mush."

Then his hands slid off her face and he passed out onto the bed, just like that, snoring loudly and drooling on her pillow.