Florida Heat

A/N: Thank you all for sticking with this story, I know it has taken a while, and for your awesome words and feedback. It is always greatly appreciated! :)

Now, on to the conclusion

Chapter 19

Sweat was pouring off of her as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Her feet pounded against the damp sand as small waves lapped at her bare feet. She slowed to a walk as the house came into sight and she lifted the hem of her tank top to wipe the layer of sweat off of her forehead. The salt in the air mixed with the sweat and salt on her skin making her feet sticky and clammy but she didn't care. She felt better, better than she had in weeks and it was because of him.

She had been sleeping better since that night a week before when he had found her on the couch and walked her up the stairs into bed. She felt better since he had told her that he would wait for her, since she had admitted to him, to herself that it would be better to forget. Everything. She had admitted that she had wanted to forget and then it became easier to remember.

She bent over to take in a deep breath with her hands on her hips as she arrived down the beach from the back step and turned to look out at the water. It looked so inviting as the air started to cool and the sun turned bright pink. The last rays of sun glistened off the water and she stripped the tank top off over her head, dropping it to the sand behind her as she waded into the water in her jogging shorts and sports bra. The surrounding beach was deserted. Families were inside eating dinner and the college students were heading back to their various campuses for the beginning of the semester. The summer was coming to a close as was her month of leave, and it was time to start heading back to reality. It was time to start healing. Her skin goose pimpled slightly as she waded in up to her knees and a wave came up to splash her belly. It was strange, she had been at the beach house for three weeks and this was the first time she had gone in the water. Her hands came up to splash water on her face and shoulders and her fingers ran down her arm to scratch at the itch of a phantom ant bite before she stopped, reminding herself that it didn't actually itch anymore. It was all in her head.

She wasn't in danger anymore. She wasn't being held. She was at home. Safe and the pain: the itchy spots on her body, the self-inflicted scars on her arms that burned when she awoke in the middle of the night, was all in her head. She didn't actually hurt anymore. And that was okay. It was okay to heal, to get better.

She dunked her head under the water and sat in the surf for a few minutes as she let she waves wash up over her. Cleansing her.

It was okay.

It has been a harsh realization that first day when she had found the note; that her actions no longer only affected her. He was there for her, with her. He had been since Montgomery was shot, standing beside her while she had pushed him away, begging for space, lying to him— saying that she was no longer looking into her mother's case like he had begged her not to. It was only when he was gone, that she realized how much she missed him. She had remembered him when she hadn't known her own name.

That was something. Something important. That was…

"I love him," Kate whispered out over the water and a tear leaked out of her eye, making it burn slightly from the salt.

She loved him and that was okay.

Because he loves you, too.

He loved her and that was okay. He was allowed to love her. She was still loveable and he was waiting. For her.

She made her way back up to the house slowly, bending to save her shirt from the surf as she did, water dripping off of her body. She fished the key out of the small mesh pocket in her shorts and unlocked the back door, walking slowly into the kitchen. She danced from foot to foot on the tile floor as she stared into the refrigerator. She had gone to the store after she had popped a couple of pills to relieve her headache and recovered from her hangover. She had picked up food and a swimsuit she still hadn't used. She had done her laundry when she had gotten back to the house and cleaned everything. She had stared at herself in the mirror for an hour, forcing her eyes to not look away as she studied the scars on her body— new and old. She saw the black bags under her eyes and the gaunt look of her face. Her ribs were starting to show and her arms were speckled with shiny spots from where her fingers had scratched the bug bites until they bled. She was a mess and it was time to get better.

She had started to eat full meals again, forcing herself to have something with her coffee when she woke up in the morning, lunch at noon and dinner around 6pm every day. She had scheduled it. There were alarms set on her phone as reminders. She had always scoffed when Javi had teased her, calling her a control freak but if this is what being out of control had done to her then she as perfectly happy to schedule everything, plan every event and set timers. She needed that control back so she had gotten it and she had done it on her own.

She danced from foot to foot as she stared into the fridge, working to keep her wet body warm as she decided what to eat for dinner, finally reaching in to pull out a pack of chicken breasts and a pile of vegetables. She had put back on weight the past week and she was feeling good. She had energy, she was sleeping through the night and she even found herself smiling and singing to herself upon occasion.

She was doing okay.

She popped the pan of chicken and vegetables into the oven to roast and ran across the house, up the stairs to the bathroom, flipping on the hot water, stripping down out of her clothes and jumping into the hot spray of the water before her teeth began to chatter too badly. It burned her skin at first but she let out a sigh of relief as she body began to warm and she washed the salt, sand and sweat from her skin. Her short, dark hair was plastered to her neck and she ran her hands through it, pulling it away from her body, smiling to herself as they stopped at the ends of the short strands and no longer expected to continue down through long hair. She was getting used to it again and was actually kind of starting to like it.

Most of her clothes were already packed. She had set aside a couple of outfits: one for the night and a pair of jeans and a t-shirt to wear the next day for the trip home. She pulled on the night shirt and pants she had set aside and ran the towel through her hair one more time as the timer buzzed for the chicken and she made her way back down the stairs to the kitchen to pull the pan out of the oven.

Her apartment was silent and the click from the door closing behind her echoed through the space. The light was dim, filtering through the small windows and the month old stale air. Everything was the same from when she had left. The newspaper was still on the table. The plant was still dying on the windowsill. There was still a dirty plate and cup in the sink. Her keys clanked as they dropped into the bowl by the door and she padded across the floor to her room without sparing the office a second glance. It was going to be hard, harder than she had thought when she had come up with the plan a week before.

It was a simple plan, only three steps. A three-step program. She could do that. Easy.

She placed her bag on her bed and let out a shaky breath as she pivoted on her heels and made her way back out of her room to the office. The shutters were closed but she could still see it: the sea of yellow post-it notes, the scribbled lines of words, the endless hours she had spent staring at it all, willing it to make sense. Her fingers shook as she reached out for the latch, flipping it up before gripping the knobs and pulling the shutters open to stare at the wall of paper. Facts.

She stared at it for a moment, forcing herself to remember, to breathe. She could do this. She would be okay. It would be safe. He would take care of it, of her. She could trust him with this.

She turned around slowly and walked back across the apartment, pulling a cardboard box from the hall closet before turning back towards her mother's murder board.

It was a slow, methodical process, pulling each photo, each document and each yellow square of paper from the wall. She bent the tape back carefully to keep the sticky side from catching any other piece of paper. She placed each document in the box in order. She organized each file, back to the way it was supposed to be before placing them in the box as well. Once the wall was bare and the sun shown back through the window she started working on the floor; throwing the scraps of paper and empty wine bottles into a garbage bag, which she placed by the front door. She would throw that out on her way out of the apartment.

Her hand drifted to her chest for a moment and she gripped the ring that hung there in her fist, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment as she stood with the box at her feet.

She could do this.

She could let go.

She could give up the control to him. She could remember to eat and be able to sleep, she could allow herself to be happy and he could have this. Her vice grip loosened off of the necklace and she reached out a shaky hand as she bent down with jelly legs. Her hands gripped the sides of the box and she lifted herself back up. She could do this. She could show him that she was ready.

Castle's fingers tapped at the keys lightly as he weaved the latest tale of Nikki and Rook. He hadn't heard anything from her in the week since he had left her sleeping in his room at the beach house. He had searched the house with the intent of throwing away any more bottles of alcohol but had found none. Not even a bottle of wine. He wasn't proud to admit that he had gone through the trash or that he was surprised that he hadn't found any more liquor bottles in there either. He had intended on staying the night and give her a lecture the next morning about how she was going to end up like her father and that she shouldn't fall into the bottle like that but then he had realized that he didn't need to. She hadn't been doing this for the past few weeks. She hadn't fallen down the rabbit hole and been drinking herself to sleep every night. She may be a little fractured but she wasn't broken. She was still Kate, she just had to realize it again and she said she had to do that alone. He could give her that.

At least, he could give her that for another week. Gina had called him two days before, reminding him of the book tour he had ditched in order to head to Florida. He needed to reschedule. He had told her that he would think about it and get back to her and he had every intention of doing just that but the end decision was yet to be seen. Come Monday, Kate's month of leave would be over and either he would sit down in his chair beside her at the precinct and hand over her grande non-fat latte with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla or he would finish his book tour. The choice was up to her.

His fingers tapped on the keyboard a couple more times and he sighed. Alexis was out with Ashley. The boy was leaving for Stanford in a couple of weeks and he and Alexis hadn't stopped making goo-goo eyes at each other for the past week. His mother was… somewhere… The loft was quiet, too quiet, and he was tempted to blast the stereo just to stop the silence. He sighed again and pushed himself out of the chair, stretching as he made his way to the living room, flipping through a few stacks of CDs before tossing them back onto the shelf, the sound of the plastic clashing together, temporarily breaking the silence. He turned back towards his office only to freeze at the sound of a quiet knock on the front door.

His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to break a few ribs, fracture his sternum, and his stomach fluttered as he forced his legs to propel him across the wooden floor. He sucked in a breath and paused, praying, eyes closed, as his hand closed around the doorknob and he forced his eyes open as he pulled the door open and came face to face with Kate Beckett.

She looked better than she had all summer and he found he couldn't stop staring at her as she looked up at him across the threshold.

"Hi," She started quietly, the word forced.

"Hey," he replied as he studied her face, her eyes. They were greener now than they had seemed in years.

One of her hands drifted up to brush her hair back behind her ear and his eyes drifted up to take in the dark locks.

"You cut your hair. It's darker," he continued, mentally kicking himself as he heard to words that passed through his lips.

Smooth Castle.

"Yeah," she replied. "I wanted something different."

"It looks good. Like it did when we met."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Her hands fidgeted at her stomach, fingers playing with each other as they continued to stare at each other awkwardly, both searching for the right words.

"How are you doing?" He asked finally.

Her eyes flickered up, a spark of something in them: strength, maybe, or resolution. "Okay, I'm doing okay, better than yesterday, not as good as tomorrow but I'm okay."

"You want to come in?" He asked finally and the relieved smile that passed across her face was his answer. Of course she wanted to come in, that's why she was here.

Her eyes drifted down and she bent over suddenly, picking up the box that he hadn't noticed had been resting by her feet. "Yeah, I would. I have something to give you."

He watched as she held out the box to him as she continued to stand in the hall. He took the box, nodding in confusion until his eyes drifted down and he caught sight of the documents and photos staring back at him.

"Kate…" he started, his eyes darting back up to her.

"I want you to keep it," she blurted out suddenly a hand gripping the ends of her hair. "I want you to hold onto it until I'm ready, until we are ready to dive back into it again.

He nodded slowly, cradling the cardboard to his chest as he stepped back into the, gesturing for her to follow him. He turned to take the box into his office and he heard the door close softly behind him. When he returned to the living room she was still standing in the entry, just inside the doorway. She had a fist held up to her mouth.

""I want to be ready," she stated softly. "But I'm not sure if I am. I want you…"

Her voice drifted off again and he sucked in a breath as he waited for her to continue.

"I want you to take this," she said holding out her fist to him. "And when you are ready I want you to give it back to me."

Castle looked down at the object she placed in his open palm and his eyes opened in surprise when she saw her mother's wedding ring staring back at him.

"But when you do. When you give it back to me, I want you to be putting it on my finger."

Her words danced in his head as he repeated them back to himself. She wanted him to… oh.

Oh.

He could feel the smile moving across his face, threatening to break it open. He nodded. "Okay."

He watched as her mouth broke into a relieved smile and she bit her lip suddenly, a small glimpse of that old Kate breaking through, staring back at him. Not battered and broken anymore. Only slightly fractured and starting to heal. With him.

"Okay."