March 29, 2011

Her mind drifted into consciousness, slowly. The muffled sounds of the city traffic drifted through the open window, stirring her from her dreams. She pleaded with her eyes. Open... please. But they were too heavy with fatigue to obey. And then suddenly, as if jolted to life by a surge of electricity, her mind began to whirl with the memories of last night. She knew where she was. She knew exactly who's whose bed she was in... because it sure as hell wasn't hers. But the reality of this situation hadn't set in fully. Not yet. With her eyes still fused shut, she could pretend for just a little longer... ignore the mess that she had made.

Eventually she managed to pull her eyelids open - just long enough to see that she was alone - blinking rapidly as the light burned her irises. She looked at the digital clock on his bedside table... 07:00. She must have just missed him. She shut her eyes, taking a moment to count her blessings. The last thing she needed right now was an awkward morning after experience.

She rubbed her fingertips across her shut eyes, groaning internally as she forced her muscles into action, pulling herself from the comfort of the bed.

She grabbed her clothes from last night - hastily discarded and left on the bedroom floor - tossing them on the bed for ease of access. Her entire body ached, her muscles tense from the stress she had brought upon herself. She began to dress, allowing her mind to wander as she pulled her shirt over her head.

I want you.

She lazily glided her hand along her stomach, tracing the path his touch had burned into her memory, setting the butterflies in her stomach a-flight.

It was good. Not that she would expect anything less from a man who prided himself on his giving nature... but even in her wildest dreams, she couldn't have prepared herself for what it would be like to have him in real life. To hold him... to feel his lips against her as he spoke her name so breathlessly...

She picked up her jeans, stepping into them and pulling them up with ease. As she did, her thumbs grazed her thighs.

I'll want you again... and again... and again.

She could still feel his breath on her neck, the spark of electricity that his baritone moans incited.

Shake it off. She zipped her jeans, turning back to grab her jacket from the bed. That was when she saw it - a handwritten note on the bedside table. She draped the jacket over her arm, hugging it tight to her body. She picked up the note, to read it.

Call me, please.

- Castle.

She could sense the anxiety through these few words. Short and sweet - not at all like a morning after note one would expect from a best-selling author. A man of many words, with nothing more to say than 'call me'. But of course, he wanted to get straight to the point. Of course, he would be concerned. After years of back and forth, of "will they or won't they", they finally crossed that line. And what did she do? She cried. Turned her back on him and cried herself to sleep.

It wasn't his fault. It was her. All her. Her and her stupid decisions. Her and her need to get back at Josh. To hurt Josh. Her and her internal freak out. And poor Castle was just a casualty of her anger. She had never wanted this to happen... not like this, anyway. Not out of anger and spite. He didn't deserve that.

She scrunched the note up into a ball in her hand. She couldn't call him, could she? No way. Not yet. She was far too embarrassed. Crying over one man while in the arms of another. She didn't know when she had become this person - this person that seemed so intent on self-destruction - but today was not the day she was going to embrace it. Right now, all she wanted to do was get as far away from this place as she could.

She stuffed the scrunched up note into the pocket of her jeans, grabbed her phone off of the floor and started on her escape. She reached for the door handle but froze before she opened it.

Was she alone in the loft?

Panic filled her entire body, her muscles tensing more than she thought possible. What if Alexis and Martha were home? Sitting in the kitchen, having breakfast? Or in the lounge watching morning talk shows? There was no way she could make it past them unseen.

She tried to think back to last night. Had he mentioned his family's plans for the night? Plans that would possibly extend well into the morning. Nothing came to mind.

She leaned closer to the door, listening carefully for any signs of life on the other side. Once satisfied with the silence, she slowly turned the knob and opened the door, peaking her head out to scope the surroundings. Shoes in her hand, she tiptoed quickly across the loft toward the exit. She let out a breath of relief as she flicked the lock and shut the door behind her.


She scrolled through her phone on the way up to her apartment. Castle had already tried to call, but she had let it ring out. Maybe after a shower she would feel up to talking. She considered sending a text, saying exactly that. But that sounded too much like a promise she couldn't keep. Because in reality, she knew it would take more than a shower to scrub away the shame she was feeling.

The elevator stopped on her floor. She pulled her keys from her pocket, still staring at her phone as she walked toward her apartment. As she rounded the corner, finally looking up, she was surprised to see Josh standing at her door. She stopped, frozen, her stomach churning as he turned to face her.

He came back. But it was too late... wasn't it?

He looked her up and down and she knew exactly what had drawn his attention. Her outfit - the same clothes she was wearing last night - a tell-tale sign that she's been out all night. Roaming the city, as he would put it. But, to her surprise, he didn't say anything.

"What are you doing here?" she asked once his eyes had stopped drifting up and down her body. She tried to keep her voice void of emotion. Don't give anything away.

"I wanted to apologise." His voice lacked the anger it held last night. Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn't sure if it was due to relief, fear, or anger. "I don't like being insecure. I'm usually not. I guess... I just don't want to lose you," he continued.

And, yes, it had been fear. Fear of him saying those exact words. I don't want to lose you. As if she wasn't already gone.

She felt nauseous. Last night, in the thick of it all, she had convinced herself that they were done... that the fight was the end of them. And that, while neither one of them had said it, they both understood.

She moved closer, unlocking her door and entering her apartment. She didn't invite him in, but she left the door open behind her, giving him the option to enter if he wanted. Once she heard the door shut, she turned around to face it... to face him. He just looked at her, not saying anything.

She swallowed the nausea that had kept her silent until now. "I haven't changed my mind." I'm not going to choose.

He sighed. "I figured."

He waited for her response, but she had nothing to say. They were at a stalemate, each of them as stubborn as the other. But one of them had to fold.

"I won't make you choose," he offered. Some sort of compromise. A compromise she knew would never be good enough, though. Because he had come to that conclusion every time they had this argument. And every time, it wasn't enough.

"But you want me to."

"Of course, I want you to." The emotion was back in his voice, as raw as it had been last night, but he tried to hide it. "I want you to choose me. I want you to think that what we have is worth saving."

"It's not that easy."

"Why not?" he demanded.

She hesitated for a long while before answering, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Because... I don't think it is worth saving." Her voice was barely a whisper. A painful, broken whisper.

And with that confession, the mask dropped. A flicker of hurt crossed his face, but was quickly replaced with the same angry eyes from last night. "Do I even want to know where you've been all night?"

"You left. Very ceremoniously, leaving your key behind. From where I'm standing... I don't think what I did after that is any of your business."

He laughed, nodding, his anger building. "Can you still look me in the eye and tell me you're not fucking him?"

Guilt washed over her, but she fought it off. "What's the point? You never believed me anyway." Deflection. Obvious, unmasked deflection. She could see it on his face, the way his lips twitched and curled into a sad smile, he knew.

"You know what? You're right. This isn't worth trying to save."

She watched as he walked out of her apartment. She paced toward the door, locking it angrily. As if he were going to try and get back in. As if it were some final jab at him. But she knew, this time he wouldn't be back. This time it was final.

And when she was faced with nothing but a silent apartment, the anger within her subsided just enough to let the hurt in. She stormed into the bathroom, turning on the shower to begin getting ready for work. She grabbed the men's body wash from the shower shelf and tossed it into the trash can under the vanity. The thud of the half-full bottle hitting the plastic tub gave her a sense of catharsis. She pulled his toothbrush from the cup next to the sink, tossing it in the trash too, smiling at the odd sense of relief she was feeling.

But the feeling didn't last. She looked at the lonely toothbrush that remained - a reminder that, once again, she was alone - and a wave of sadness washed over her.

From her pocket, she felt a vibration ripple into her, followed by the ring of her phone. She pulled it out to see Castle's face lighting up her screen. She stared until it stopped. Once his smiling face disappeared from her screen, she couldn't hold back any longer. She was too tired. Too overwhelmed. Crying, she stripped down and stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away her confusion.


It was almost 09:45. She had never been this late, not without calling it in. A message to Ryan or Espo. A call to the Captain, if necessary. But this morning she hadn't done either. So, she wasn't surprised when her partners rushed over to her as she entered the bullpen.

"Beckett, you okay?" Ryan asked as they approached.

"I'm fine." She sat at her desk, pulling the files she had to finish from her desk drawer. An act done purposefully to avoid looking at them. She pulled her phone from her pocket, placing it on the desk, willing it to ring with news of a new case.

"You look like hell," Esposito commented. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ryan jab him in the ribs with his elbow. "What? She does," Espo whispered as if she wasn't right there.

"I just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all."

Her phone began to chime, and she couldn't believe her luck. Usually, she would appreciate a small break in between cases to stay on top of all her paperwork, but right now she'd happily welcome the distraction.

She reached to grab it but halted when she saw the familiar smile lighting up the screen. Of course, she thought to herself. She obviously wasn't getting the distraction she had desperately hoped for. She's had to give Castle credit... he was relentless.

She looked up at her partners, still standing in front of her and staring at her phone curiously.

"Don't you two have something more important to do than hover?"

"Right."

"Of course," the boys said in unison, springing into action and moving back to their desks.

She rolled her eyes, pulled herself from her chair and strode into the break room to make herself a coffee, leaving the phone to ring out on her desk. She could justify not answering right now. She was working... this wasn't the time - and definitely not the place - to talk things out.

"I swear when they left yesterday, everything was fine," Esposito commented under his breath.

"Yeah," Ryan muttered. "It's going to be a long day."


His flight had been delayed, which infuriated him more than usual. He could have stayed in bed, getting another hour or two of sleep. God knew he needed it. But he knew that wouldn't have happened, anyway. Not after... her.

He had held her close, tried his best to soothe her, as she cried herself to sleep. She wasn't Kate... she wasn't Beckett. She was something else entirely... a broken shell of the woman he knew, so confused and lost. He wished so many things, right now.

He wished he knew what had happened between leaving Remy's and arriving at his place. His mind would fixate on that... trying to put together the puzzle pieces. But he had no edges and no reference... no hope.

He wished he had more self-control. Beckett clearly wasn't herself... she was looking for an escape. Maybe he shouldn't have so willingly provided her with one. Shouldn't have been so ready to ignore the obvious red flags, blinded by his desires... his naïveté... the hope that this was the beginning of something and not just her running. But her return to reality had been heartbreaking to witness. If he had known... maybe he would have done things differently.

But more than anything, he just wished that he was still with her, right now. That she wasn't waking up alone and confused. That he could use this time to be with her, to find some solid ground with her instead of sitting in an airport, staring at his phone, waiting for it to ring. Waiting for her to call.

He had already called her four times, left her two voicemails. A string of text messages, too. He was no longer toeing the line of desperation; he had stumbled over the side and was plummeting rapidly toward stalkerish. But he couldn't help it. Because he couldn't tell himself that maybe she was still asleep. Maybe she was getting ready for work. Maybe she was driving and couldn't answer her phone. No, his last call went straight to voicemail. She was ignoring him. And there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't persist, show up at the precinct every day until she relented. For the next two weeks, he was powerless. All he could do was wait.


A/N: just a very quick shout out to SonicMessiah for proofing for me! You're amazing and I appreciate your help so much!