"I love him."

It was all she knew right now, all she could feel. Everything else was hazy, intangible, but this, those feelings, they powered through. She wasn't ready to let go; she didn't think she'd ever be. She understood most, if not all of it, was in her head, but she didn't care. She didn't want to hear it; reality was overrated.

She had crumbled to the floor as the words resounded, deep into her subconscious. She loves him, present tense. There were movements around her, but she didn't see. There were voices around to her, but she didn't hear. Everything surrounding her, suddenly, was a blur.

Strong arms supported her elbows, getting her to her feet. She felt limp. Grabbing her waist they managed to get her to the psychiatrist's office and sit her on the couch. The door closed behind them and Dr. Marx looked into her vacant eyes.

She was still there; the woman he had gotten to know over the last few weeks was still there. He could see it, the sparkle of life in her hazel eyes that wasn't visible during her first weeks in his care. He hadn't lost her, she was still there, but he felt horribly bad, horribly wrong.

He should have known they would come to this. He should have anticipated this reaction ever since the mention of Richard Castle, the fiancé, on her first day back, 3 weeks ago. He had been afraid, afraid she wasn't ready yet, that she wasn't strong enough yet. He just knew when she finally remembered that day; everything else would come crashing back. He had been afraid, but he had undermined the feelings she had developed for the man. He couldn't have known the short moment they had shared would evolve to this.

He should have become a cardiac surgeon; it would have been so much easier. The mind is such a complex tool. He had thought that, as her own memories replaced the delusions; her longing for him would dissipate. The images of the man were slipping away from her, but the feelings were not. He had been wrong.

The glimmer in her eyes gave the doctor hope he could still get to her, make her cope. It was time. He started talking; hoping the topic would at one point, make her want to start listening.

"Your father and I were roommates our first year of college, we were 18. You arrive in a new city, with no one you know, you bond with your roommate fairly quickly. So we became quick friends. Even though we both had crazy schedules, with him in pre-law and me in pre-med, we would hang out a lot. I was there when he met your mother. Johanna was a beauty. And when I say beauty, I'm not talking only about her looks; she was smart and kind which made her even more beautiful. I can't say it's where they met but, we were at a party and she caught your father's eye, how could she not, right?"

He smiled at the memory and watched as Kate's eyes seemed to liven up.

"Your father was a shy fellow. It took him a long while for him to finally go up to her and talk. He would keep me up at night talking about her. He was such a girl. He'd probably deny it now, though. By second year, they were friends, but he still hadn't asked her out. I kept pushing him, telling him to go for it but he didn't want to lose their 'friendship'. That year we got assigned new roommates. Even though we tried to hang out, it wasn't the same. I didn't even know he had finally made the move until I saw them one day together in the park."

"She's the one that asked him out," Kate mumbled.

He smirked, "Makes a lot of sense. A couple of years later, I got an invitation in the mail for the wedding of James Beckett and Johanna Davis. I wasn't surprised; they were perfect for each other. Then, they had you. If you weren't the cutest baby out there, I don't know who is."

To that, Kate managed to smile faintly.

"We seemed to lose contact after that. A few Christmas cards here and there, but nothing much. I read about it in the newspaper, about her murder. It hit me like a ton of bricks."

Kate swallowed and bit her lips together.

"After almost 19 years, I saw my friend again, at his wife's funeral. He cried and I held him, knowing there was nothing I could do for him. Then, I met you. I shook your hand and looking into your eyes, suddenly, I was back in college with 19 year old Johanna."

The glistening in her eyes was bringing tears into his. He coughed, trying to shake it off. This conversation was the definition of being 'too close to it.'

"Your father was broken, heartsick, but when I shook your hand, I could feel it, everything you had bottled up."

Her breathing was heavier, but he continued.

"You didn't want to deal with it. So you hid. At first you hid in meaningless relationships, one night stands and parties, but soon, it wasn't enough. Your mom was bubbling back to the surface and you needed to bury her, needed to forget about it so it would stop hurting. So you did. And quickly, you couldn't stop anymore. You didn't just need them to forget, you needed them to be able to put one foot in front of the other."

She was burying her face in her hands, but he continued.

"Your father was my friend. There was nothing I could do regarding his grief over your mother, but I could try to help his grief regarding you. You couldn't get out. You were stuck and it became dangerous. You overdosed, got hospitalised and then did it all again. He loves you, he always will. Twice he called me, and twice I came. A year and a half ago, the first time-"

She looked up. "I," she swallowed, "I remember."

He nodded, "The first time, you were 22 and you were in such a bad shape, I wasn't sure there was anything I could do for you, but I had to try. We talked but you-"

"I know," she added dryly.

He nodded again, "For a year you multiplied your near death experiences with no regards to your life. That is, until a couple months ago I presume."

She looked at him pensively.

"Two and a half months ago, your father called me again, in tears. It was the second time I'd seen him cry. I rushed to the hospital and prepared for the worst. Physically, you looked much better. I could tell something had changed in you for the best, but sitting on that hospital bed, your mind had found another way to avoid."

Her eyes were watering, and he couldn't tell if it was because she finally remembered that day and the ones preceding it or not.

"Your mind blacked it all out, everything you didn't want to deal with. It's when the delusions started to take over. Are you ready to talk about them?"

She nodded shyly, her voice barely a whisper, "I just wish you'd stop calling him that."

"It's what they are, Kate, delusions, what else would you want me to call them?"

She shrugged her shoulders and remained silent, a single tear streaming down her cheek.

"You couldn't deal with how you handled yourself after mother's murder, so you became the detective that was going to solve her murder, bring her justice."

She nodded, emotions backing up in her throat as she asked, "Why then? Why him?"

He couldn't know for sure, why him, why her attachment to him had grown so strong but he knew where it had all started, why it had all started. Even though he was afraid of her reaction, he had waited long enough. He had wanted her to remember him on her own, without the little push, when she was mentally ready. Now, it was time for her to remember, everything, regardless of the consequences.

He got up and went to the closet in the corner of the office. Unlocked the door and pulled out a book, her book.

"I wanted you to feel a bit better before you had this one," he said as he handed her the copy of Storm Rising.

She took it uneasily and placed in on her lap, unopened. She stared at it, her heart was beating fast and she didn't fully understand why. She opened the book, reading the autographed note on the first page.

Suddenly, it flashed before her eyes.

Flashback

10 weeks ago

Her eyes fluttered open and were greeted by his worried blue ones. He smiled, relieved as he managed to help her back onto her feet, still supporting the small of her back.

She exhaled loudly by her mouth, but the nausea had passed. She felt better. She smiled back, their eyes not letting go of each other as she voiced a, "Thank you, Castle."

"No problem Ms..."

"Beckett," she added nodding.

Her heart was beating like crazy. She had been a hard core fangirl ever since her mother had introduced her to the books, but this was more than the rush adrenaline you get when meeting your favorite author. From the way he was looking at her, Kate could tell he wasn't indifferent either. He continued to smile at her, their eyes locked into each other's like they were the only ones in the store, when a hand tapped on his shoulder.

Abruptly breaking eye contact, much to Kate's dismay, he turned around "What, Gina?" he asked sharply.

Gina pretended to whisper, but loudly enough so Kate would hear, "She's fine Rick. Look at her, the girl looks like trouble. Just get on with the book signing, call her an ambulance if she wants. But there's a lot more people here to see you."

The publisher eyed her before turning around and taking a few steps back, observing them with a hawk eye.

Kate returned to Gina the look she was giving her before turning towards Castle, telling him with a smile "I'm fine really, thank you. It happens a lot actually. It was very nice to meet you, Castle."

She extended her hand, waiting for him to take it. When that didn't happen, disappointed, she slowly brought it back to her side and smiled shyly ready to walk away.

"Gina?" he turned around towards the blond, "Take everybody's information. Tell them I'll send them an advance signed copy of the next Derek Storm book. I'll stay with Ms. Beckett and make sure this doesn't happen again. Better safe than sorry." With that he hooked her arm in his and walked her to the little coffee place on the upper level of the bookstore.

She was seated at a little round table, hands folded over the table and she pulled down on the sleeves of her shirt covering her scars. What the hell was she doing right now? She was waiting for Richard Castle. How could she think this was a good idea? She hadn't used in the last couple of months. She was on the methadone, slowly weaving away from it, but she still craved them, everyday. She was an addict, always would be. As if dealing with everything else wasn't enough, did she really need to add a guy to the mix? She couldn't do it all. Dealing with all of it, it would be too much, she knew it, but she couldn't bring herself to leave. He was just so…

She was lost in her thoughts when he arrived flashing his perfect teeth. He set down the two cups on the table as he sat down, exclaiming, "Ginger tea and honey, my mother's cure for just about everything!"

"Thank you, Castle. But I really need to ask, why?"

"For one, I really get a kick out of pissing off Gina. We were married once, what a stupid decision, that was! Are you…" he asked as he tried to subtly check her ring finger.

"I'm not," she laughed uneasily, "Very single, despite-"

"Good. Because you have no idea how messy dating married women is." He answered with a charming wink.

"So this is what this is? A date?"

"I paid for your food, no? Isn't that the definition?"

"God Castle, you're so macho." She laughed as she rolled her eyes at him.

He genuinely smiled, but he knew, even though she hid it, the woman was just as attracted as he was.

"Do I really look like trouble?" she asked.

He laughed some more, "A ticking time bomb is what you look like."

"Yeah…" she smiled uneasily.

He sensed the sore subject. "Hey, don't worry, I've got issues too."

"Yeah, right. I bet your life is so hard right now."

"Being a ruggedly handsome, very successful and rich mystery writer had its downsides, Beckett."

She grinned, "Yeah? Like what?"

"The parties, the endless parade of women trying to sleep with me…"

"I'll stop you right there," she said as she clumsily got herself back on her feet. She didn't need this right now. She shouldn't have come. She already had enough to deal with.

He was quick to his feet and loosely grabbed her arm, "No, please, I was just joking. Stay."

He looked at her, his puppy dog eyes pleading, "Please sit back down. I'll be serious."

"I doubt that," she added, but sat back down.

"You want me to tell you the truth?"

She nodded.

"I'm bored."

She grabbed the edge of the table ready to give herself the push she needed to get to her feet.

"No! I mean, I'm tired of writing Derek Storm. It's not like it used to. I've talked to Gina about it, but of course she doesn't want me to kill off the golden goose. I just, I want something new and exciting."

"Like what?"

"I've always wanted to have a female lead. I've just never had the guts to do it. Women are so complicated," he winked at her and she laughed.

"You know, like a badass detective or something," he added.

She groaned and closed her eyes.

"Bad idea?"

She shook her head, grabbing her stomach, "No. Something's not right."

He nodded and was quick to his feet, helping her up, "We better take you to the hospital. Do you want me to call anyone for you?"

Back in the office, her breathing was hectic. She had to be remembering it wrong. It couldn't be. She couldn't have.

"This can't be happening. This can't be happening. I need to talk to my dad. Please, please, please just let me talk to my dad."

So, thoughts? Comments? Complaints?

You're probably still lost, next chapter should help, don't despair.