Slowly finding the time to write again. Thank you everyone for your patience.
The Wild Rover
It was a Sunday morning, and though Kate was on call today, it was 8:30 am and her phone had yet to ring. Castle didn't hold high hopes for their good fortune to continue, however, as New Yorkers seemed to have mastered the art of murdering each other at the most inconvenient of times. Nevertheless, he was going to take advantage of every minute until their early morning luck ran out.
They were still curled up on the living room floor, surrounded by a fluffy pile of pillows. There were blankets strewn across the loft, some still draped over the rearranged furniture, others having long since slipped from their positions. The one that was initially elevated over them had been tugged from its place in the middle of the night and was now wrapped around the two of them for warmth. The sofa was sitting diagonally across the living room and there was a chair in the doorway to the office, making it rather difficult for Castle to extricate himself in order to use the restroom.
He nearly tripped over Kate as he stood, proceeded to actually trip over the sheet from the guest room that was draped between two kitchen chairs behind the sofa. Kate snorted with laughter as he removed his foot from the fabric, rolled her eyes adoringly at his disappearing form as he navigated through the maze of linens. He was such a child sometimes. But she loved it. She really did.
She had quite possibly enjoyed the blanket fort just as much as he did. Building it. Crawling around in it. Playing hide-and-seek in it. Laying side by side quietly sharing fun memories from their childhoods. A lot of laughter. And, at Castle's insistence, blanket fort sex.
Not that she'd been particularly difficult to convince.
Kate smiled at the memory, silent laughter bubbling to the surface as she recalled how they'd knocked the blanket down on top of them at one point and had to untangle their limbs to reach up and push it out of the way.
Before she had a chance to ponder anything more from the ever-growing list of ways her life had changed since she'd met him, the man himself reappeared. Carrying their journal.
"You brought it," Kate observed, smiling up at him and lifting the blanket, welcoming him back into their fortress of pillows.
He re-situated himself next to her. "Thought it might be a relaxing way to start the morning."
She nodded in agreement, leaned into him lovingly as she murmured her approval. Castle thumbed through for the next new entry and, upon finding it, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders while the other steadied the journal in his lap.
Dear Kate,
This case was an eye-opener for all of us, I think. Kevin Ryan undercover with the mob? My imagination can be pretty wild but I don't think it ever would have conjured up that scenario. It's very not like him. At all.
It makes me wonder how I've known him for the better part of five years without knowing anything about this. I mean, I understand he wouldn't want it to be common knowledge that he's a cop. He'd want to make sure it didn't somehow get back to the mob. But still, I can't believe that in five years he's never mentioned even one little thing from those fourteen months of his life. Not even to Javi.
It's a bit disconcerting, because it makes me wonder how well we really ever know anyone. As I sit back and think about it, I realize there's a lot I don't know about Ryan. Or Esposito. Or even you. I suppose one argument would be that I never asked, so why should I expect to know? That's not an incorrect statement. I didn't ever bother to dig into their lives like I did with yours, because they weren't inspiring my main character. I didn't need as much of a background story for them, and, to be honest, I wasn't as interested. You're my inspiration. But even so, digging through old records can only tell me so much. At some point, I have to rely on what people tell me, anecdotes or stories from others or from you. I can't help but wonder about all the stories you've never told me.
I'm not saying I should know everything about you. That's neither reasonable nor possible. Besides, we all have stories we'd rather not tell for whatever reason, things we'd rather not admit to having done. I completely understand that because I have plenty of them. But still, I can't help but wonder about the years of your life about which I know very little. There's probably a reason for that. It's probably a conscious effort on your part, just like there are things about me that I choose not to reveal to anyone. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. I'm just saying I can't help but wonder.
Curse of a writer's mind, I guess.
It makes me want to ask you questions, but I also don't want to invade your privacy or pressure you to reveal something or place you in an uncomfortable situation. I trust you to open up when you're ready. And I understand that there are things I'll probably never know about you, but I also trust your discretion in what you choose not to reveal, because I know that there are a number of factors that go into play when sharing information from your past that may be embarrassing or private or even a potential game-changer.
Which, coincidentally, is why I was so afraid to explain this 'Jordan' thing to you. It wasn't that I don't trust you or that I believe in keeping secrets from you. I was afraid it would change the way you saw me, that it would drive you away from me instead of bringing you closer. I was afraid you would be morally opposed to someone who was a cheater, or that you'd change your view on my books, or that you'd question my current writing abilities. Or that you'd break up with me after finding out I'm not who you thought I was. I don't know what I'd do if that happened.
I've never felt like this before. I've never loved someone so much to be this afraid of losing them. It's never been like this. After the first divorce, I felt hurt and betrayed and heartbroken for a while, but I bounced back eventually. The second time, I probably wasn't as upset as I should have been. I'm not sure what that says about me, but probably nothing good.
But with you... I'd be broken. We're not even married and I already can't imagine having to live without you. I know that's no excuse to not be honest with you, and it's not fair of me to dig into your life but not allow you a glimpse into mine. All I can do is hope that when you uncover the stories of my past, you don't go running off someone who actually deserves you, far more than I ever will.
I may never deserve you, but I'm the luckiest guy in the world to have you in my life, and I'm going to cherish every minute of it.
I love you, Kate.
Rick
"You don't give yourself enough credit." He cocked his head questioningly, and Kate continued. "Saying you don't deserve me?"
He shrugged, aiming for disinterested and failing miserably. "I don't."
"I don't even know how you could say that," she protested instantly, unwilling to allow him to think so little of himself.
"I mean, look at you," he practically exclaimed. "You're brilliant and gorgeous and sexy and sassy and badass and the best detective in New York City. I'm just a writer who's been divorced twice and had a bunch of one-night stands and broken the law multiple times and..."
"And you're an amazing writer and your novels are bestsellers and your words have the power to help people, Castle. You have a wonderful daughter you raised mostly on your own, and you're the best partner I could ever ask for."
His mouth hung open, completely frozen as she rattled off her list.
"Like I said," Kate continued, reaching out to guide his mouth closed. "You don't give yourself enough credit."
"But you..." he stammered.
"Have my fair share of issues as well, and I'm not sure what I ever did to deserve you either," she admitted bluntly. "I never understood why you insisted on waiting around for me when all I wanted was to keep you out of my life and as far away from my heart as possible. So let's just call it even, okay?"
"I... yeah, okay," Castle agreed, once he recovered from her words and found the ability to speak once again. "We're even."
She smiled, reached up to cup his cheek and guide him in for a gentle kiss. "Good. I'm glad that's settled."
He smiled against her lips as they separated, still in awe of her words and her view of him and the way she was able to overlook his flaws and his past in light of who he was now.
"Extraordinary," he whispered, barely more than a quiet exhale, but from the way she dipped her chin just slightly, hair falling forward to hide the faint blush tinging her cheeks, he knew she heard him.
"Come on," she whispered after a moment, reaching out with one hand to wiggle the journal against his lap, draw his attention back to the book. "Let's keep reading."
Thoughts?