May 18, 2011 (9w)
"I'm sorry," she said softly, breaking the unbearable silence that filled the room.
She had spent the better part of ten minutes staring at her palms as they rested in her lap, trying to avoid Dr Burke's studying eyes.
"When you called, you said you needed to talk," he said as he leant back into his chair. "You came in, waited for me to finish up with a patient, it's obviously important. But I can't make you talk to me, Kate. That has to be something you're willing to do."
He waited, giving her a moment to answer, but she stayed silent.
"I get paid, either way," he noted with a smile, trying to break the tension. "If you just want to sit in silence, I am more than happy to do that. It's your time."
She pressed her thumb into the palm of her hand, massaging it, trying to soothe her mind through her hand.
It was important. She was spiralling, and she didn't know how to stop herself.
Lockwood was in the wind. In that moment, as she sat twiddling her thumbs, he could be anywhere.
And she had given up, walked away.
Not by choice, not really. Castle had taken that choice away from her. She was losing control, and he snatched the last little hints of it straight from her desperate grasp.
But when her options were: give up control to him or lose him forever, she knew there was only one right thing to do.
She had promised to go home but found herself sitting in her car outside of Burke's office, with no real recollection of how she had gotten there.
She sat for almost an hour before picking up the phone and calling to book an emergency session.
She had a million thoughts swirling around her mind. She wanted nothing more than for these thoughts to spill out of her, messy and truthful, for Burke to sort out. If he could make some sense of them, make them less daunting, less overwhelming for her, then maybe she could begin to process them.
But forming thoughts into words was never something that came easy to her.
I'm a monster.
That's it. That's all she could hear, over and over, as she tried to speak.
Burke would need her to explain, to clarify what she meant by that.
And she simply couldn't.
"I expected things to be getting easier, not harder," she eventually said.
"What do you mean? What is getting harder?"
She sighed, fought off the reflex eye roll. He was predictable, clichéd. He may as well spout the classic and how does that make you feel. Although, the session wasn't over yet, he had plenty of time to bring that one out.
She shrugged her shoulders. Everything didn't seem like the answer Burke was fishing for. But she couldn't really pinpoint what it was.
She knew the case was taking its toll. It had been a definite point of contention with Castle, therefore making the beginnings of their relationship tense, to say the least.
And now, Montgomery was on her side. He knew what was at risk, but he wasn't telling her to walk away. He understood her need.
I will stand with you.
The words wrapped around her like protective armour. She wasn't alone in this. It had almost been enough for her to go against Castle's request, to deny her better judgement. Almost.
That wasn't why she was here, though. She knew it, Burke knew it.
"I'm going to be a bad mother," she confessed.
Burke pulled out his notebook, scanning the pages of in-depth notes he had taken during last week's introductory session. It had been unnerving, watching as he jotted every private detail she had shared, filling pages of the fresh book after just one meeting.
He had studied her as meticulously as Castle had, when he first started his research. But, while she had tried to keep Castle at an arm's length, she kept trying to remind herself to actually let Dr Burke in, that she wanted to grant him access to the deepest darkest corners of her mind.
"Nine weeks," he read aloud once he found the information he had been searching for. "Why do you think you're going to be a bad mother?"
"I'm just not the type of person who should be having kids."
"What type of person are you?"
That wasn't an easy question to answer, because, in all honesty, she didn't know.
"I'm... selfish. I work too much. I'm obsessive and reckless and uncommunicative."
She was the type of person who couldn't bond with her unborn child.
Who didn't feel the love that she should for her unborn child.
"Reckless and uncommunicative..." he muttered as he wrote her words on a fresh page. "For the record: I believe you're doing a great job communicating."
"I've spent most of our time together sitting in silence," she reminded him with a scoff.
He smiled in return; the kind of smile that told her he had just learned something new about her.
She had to refrain from curling into herself, trying to hide herself away.
"You don't know me yet," he stated. "It's perfectly reasonable to be hesitant before diving into things."
"Isn't that the whole point of being here?" she asked with an argumentative undertone.
He placed his notebook on the arm of his chair, balancing the pen on the page before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
"Kate," he started, softly, gently summoning her full attention. "There is no magic fix, for anything. You're here for a reason: there's something that you want to understand. To change, maybe? That's not going to happen overnight, and it's not going to happen if you don't trust me to be able to help you."
He paused, making sure she was absorbing the words he spoke.
"So, if you need a few minutes, a few hours, to sit with me, there is nothing wrong with that. I have clients that spend entire sessions not saying a single word. And that is okay."
"I'm not here to waste time," she replied, bitterly.
It felt like she was wasting time. Sitting here, talking about feelings... or, rather, her lack thereof. Especially when Lockwood was out there.
"It's still early days; give yourself time."
He could have been talking about therapy, but she knew he wasn't.
It was still early in her pregnancy; she needed more time to embrace this. But was it really that simple?
"Castle doesn't seem to need time," she sulked. "And it might not even be his baby."
"Castle isn't growing a human," he pointed out. "I personally have never done it, but I hear it's exhausting."
She let out a small huff of laughter. Exhausting was an understatement.
"Are you still experiencing morning sickness?"
She nodded.
"Fatigue, sickness, the recent personal loss you've experienced: you've had a lot to adjust to, Kate. This pregnancy was not expected. It could take weeks, or months, just for the shock of it to wear off."
"What if it's not shock? What if I just-" she stopped, reconsidering her words.
"Just, what?" he encouraged.
Her brain screamed out for her to slam on the breaks, to swerve away from this train of thought. Saying the words aloud would only cement the notion that she is bound to be a bad mother.
But they were ready to surface, sitting on the top of her tongue.
"What if I just don't want this?"
Burke nodded slowly, processing her confession.
"Then, that is something you need to seriously think about. You still have options, Kate, but you need to ask yourself: do you actually not want this or are you allowing your concerns about motherhood consume you?"
She wished it was consuming her, at least then she would know, without a doubt, that she cared. That it wasn't all just an act.
"I believe you should be able to get your test done soon, is that correct?"
The slight change of pace brought her out of her own mind.
"I'm booked in next Friday."
"And how are the possible fathers feeling? Have you discussed it with them?"
The question had her stomach churning, her head spinning.
"Castle is optimistic."
Too optimistic. Stupidly optimistic. Destined to be heartbroken, right?
Blind optimism had only ever led Kate down one alley. She hadn't always been this jaded and cynical.
"And your ex?" he asked, looking down at his notes. "Joshua?"
She shifted in her seat, rubbing her palms over her thighs.
Josh. Poor, clueless Josh.
He hadn't tried to contact her since that day in the park, since she had told him she needed time. He was always so ready to accept her boundaries.
"Josh doesn't know," she confessed.
She could feel Burke's stare on her, but he didn't speak until she met his eyes.
"And how do you plan on getting his DNA to test without telling him?"
"I don't plan on testing his DNA," she answered, certainty strengthening her composure. "The lab will test Castle's. Either way, we will have our answer."
"What is your plan if Josh is the biological father?"
Her eyes shot to the floor; the composure mustered just moments ago exposed as nothing more than a mirage.
Plan? Her only plan was to hope and pray that this child was biologically Castle's. She hadn't allowed herself to think about the alternative, not in weeks.
"I can see this future with Castle: the two of us raising this child and... and everything just works out. He says that we can have that, regardless, but it just won't work. Not with Josh in the picture."
She had to admit, the simple act of saying the words out loud had done wonders for beginning to release the knot in her stomach, for easing the storm in her mind and clearing her thoughts.
"I've been trying so hard not to fall in love with the idea of having a child with Castle that I think I've gone too far in the opposite direction and I've already ruined my relationship with my child. Whenever I think about it, about what is to come, I just," she paused, collecting her thoughts. "I am filled with this dread that doesn't even really have anything to do with the baby, just kind of everything else. But I can't separate the two anymore."
What if I never can?
He sat, staring at the file before him: the same page he'd been staring at for at least fifteen minutes now.
The words had started to blur together, a fuzzy mess that even his fourth coffee in as many hours couldn't remedy.
The altered report had set a fire under the three of them, fuelling them through the extra hours of combing back through the already checked - twice! - stack of files. But that fuel was burning, fast, and they were yet to find anything more. Granted, it was something. But it wasn't enough.
He had known the likelihood, the odds that had been stacked against him, but that didn't stop the dreamer in him from hoping they would find something more, something that would crack the case wide open.
Something that would end this: for her, for all of them.
He hadn't expected her to actually leave tonight.
Deep in the pit of his stomach, he didn't trust that, once the sun rose on a new day, her promise would hold true. He could see it now: an emotionally fragile Kate hunched over her desk in the early hours of the morning, right back out on that ledge.
His phone chimed, offering him a welcome distraction.
He wrestled with the material of his pants, the crease of his pocket battling against his weary and uncoordinated fingers.
With an exaggerated grunt, he finally freed the device.
His eyes were instantly drawn to her name, to the message she had sent.
You still up?
Of course, he was, he had promised her they would keep going. Did she have as little faith in his word as he seemed to have in hers?
"I think it's time we called it," Esposito said, leaning back in his chair and pressing the heel of his palms to his eyes.
"I agree," Castle replied while typing out his reply to Kate's text. "We aren't getting anywhere, I'm too tired to focus. We can start fresh in the morning."
He looked away from his phone, realising he had more or less laid out an order for Ryan and Esposito to follow.
"Yes, Boss," Ryan said with a smirk.
"Sorry." He let out a heavy breath, reminiscent of laughter, before moving his attention back to his phone.
"You all good, bro?" Esposito asked as he began packing away the files in front of him.
"Uh, yeah. It's just Beckett," Castle answered, tucking his phone back into his pocket.
He looked up just in time to see Esposito's eyes light up in the same way they had earlier.
"A message this late at night? I wonder what the intent is?" he suggested with mischievous glee, exchanging smug smirks with Ryan.
"In my dreams, maybe," Castle shot back instantly.
"Wow, that filter really just vanishes once the coffee wears off, doesn't it?" Ryan laughed.
"It's not like it's some big secret, right?" Castle sighed, stood and began packing away his share of the files. "No one ever really bought into the research excuse."
He didn't mean to sound so dejected. His comment was supposed to make them laugh: a long-awaited confession that their jesting and wisecracks about his crush had been spot on, all along.
But a blind man could have seen the uneasy looks they shot one another. Under the jokes, under the banter, they were concerned.
"It's been a long few days," he said with his best reassuring smile. "I think we all just need to finally be able to put this behind us."
City lights reflected off the slick, rain covered asphalt, dancing in ripples as pedestrians trampled through puddles on sidewalks.
In the city that never sleeps, there was always activity in the streets, even at this time of night. Even under the deep grey blanket of clouds and looming threat of more rain, the streets were alive.
Shift workers, weeknight party-goers, insomniacs, rebellious teenagers.
Everyone had a story, a reason for being exactly where they were at this moment.
Her reason: guilt.
Outside the precinct, she waited, leaning against her car with her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets.
She would apologise, even if that meant waiting out on the street all night.
She didn't have to wait long before her attention was drawn to the three boys pushing through the front doors, deeply immersed in their discussion.
Ryan's eyes drifted upward, catching hers, and his face dropped immediately.
A quick nudge to Castle's ribs shifted his attention, too.
"Beckett?" Castle's voice couldn't disguise his surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Her eyes drifted between Ryan and Esposito. "I wanted to apologise."
"It's fine, Beckett." Ryan tried to shrug it off, to not make a big deal out of what had happened. But it was a big deal.
In-control-Kate didn't reprimand her team like that.
In-control-Kate didn't talk to her friends with such anger.
In-control-Kate didn't blame her family for things beyond their control.
"No, it's not okay. You guys have been by my side throughout all of this, doing everything you can. I hate to think that you don't feel appreciated."
Esposito moved down the three steps that fronted the precinct, stopping once he was at ground level with Beckett. With a smile, he opened his arms slightly, silently inviting her into an embrace.
Physical affection among the team wasn't generally something they did, but it wasn't unwelcomed.
Her shoulders dropped, relaxing for the first time in hours, as she closed the distance between them.
Espo's arms around her brought an instant warmth and comfort, a reassurance that she hadn't realised she so desperately needed.
They were okay.
After a few seconds, just as she was readying herself to pull away from the familial embrace, she felt the force of another body colliding with them, two more arms wrapping around her.
"Dude," Esposito groaned.
"Don't ruin the moment," Ryan warned softly, squeezing his arms tighter around them.
She couldn't help but laugh at Ryan's enthusiasm, Esposito's discomfort.
She tilted her head up, looking between the shoulders of the two men. Castle was watching the embrace, pride tugging at the corners of his mouth.
This team, this family, was truly remarkable.
In this moment - despite everything else, everything that had been tearing away at her - she was filled with an overwhelming optimism. She felt, beyond doubt, that everything would be okay in the end. Basking in this sense of security, the gentle well of emotion began to blur her vision.
The boys pulled away, reclaiming their own personal space, and she hurried to wipe away the evidence that pooled at the corners of her eyes.
Castle stepped down to join the group. He hated to ruin a beautiful moment, but Kate's presence had him uneasy - especially as they all were sitting ducks, in the street.
"You shouldn't be here," he stated firmly.
Her eyes dropped to the cracked sidewalk, but she nodded slowly in agreement.
"You should be at home, in bed, dreaming of rainbows and unicorns," he added, trying to shake off some of the disapproving tone.
"I've never really be a rainbows and unicorns kinda girl, Castle," she returned with a smile, releasing her stare from the ground to risk a glance at him. "Besides, I'm here to take you home."
Esposito and Ryan perked up at the words: eyes wide, eyebrows arched. In perfect synchrony, their eyes shot from Beckett to Castle.
"Should we pinch him?" Ryan muttered to Esposito in reference to their earlier conversation.
He hoped Beckett hadn't caught the exchange, but as her brow knitted in confusion, he knew he wouldn't be so lucky.
"Why are you taking me home?" he asked, trying to ignore the boys' growing smirks.
"Alexis called, said something about 'even the autonomous need sleep'?"
He closed his eyes, let out an exasperated breath. "I'm so sorry."
"It's fine, Castle," she assured him with a light-hearted chuckle.
"Remind me to inform her that I am the parent."
"I will." She stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently guiding him toward her car. "As soon as I get you home."
"Have fun," the boys chorused as the couple got into the car.
May 19, 2011 (9w1d)
It was well past midnight by the time they arrived at the loft, the short drive slowed by inconvenient roadworks and detours.
They drove in silence: not uncomfortable, but not exactly pleasant, either. And now, parked directly in front of his building, they sat in silence. Neither one of them made any effort to move from the safety bubble of the car.
She had brushed off his concern before. His fault - she was simply following his lead - but his concerns still burned, waiting to be acknowledged.
His tension had spilled, filling the atmosphere.
If she had gone home when she left the precinct, she would have changed out of her work attire. Sure, Alexis's call may have pulled her out of bed, meaning she would have had to change, but she wouldn't have gotten dressed in the same outfit she had been wearing all day.
It didn't take a detective to deduce that she had been out all evening. Hours had passed. He wanted - no, needed - to know where she had been, what she had been doing.
He had been fighting off this nagging voice in the back of his head that told him she gave in too easily when he had asked her to go home. The Kate Beckett he knew would have fought, tooth and nail, to get her way.
Or, at the very least, she would be fighting off an array of negative emotions - anger, frustration, disappointment, sadness, hatred - all directed his way.
With the added complication of hormones running wild, he had expected yelling, crying, fighting.
Instead, she was calm.
Somehow that was worse.
He inhaled deeply.
"You've been out?" he asked, cautiously, on the exhale.
He watched on as she licked her lips, her hands gripping so tightly at the steering wheel that her knuckles were white.
She was nervous. His watchful eye probably didn't ease that at all, but he couldn't look away.
"I had something I had to do."
If she was trying to feign a coolness, a casualness to her words, she had failed. Her voice was soft, shaky: there was something she wasn't telling him.
"Did it have to be done tonight?"
She snickered. "It's not like I had anything better to do after you kicked me off the case."
There was that venom, again.
She shook her head, and he could see the streetlights reflecting in the moisture that welled in her eyes.
"You're mad."
She was. She didn't want to be, but she was.
She loosened her grip on the wheel, taking a deep, steadying breath.
"I drove around for a little while, aimlessly, not sure what to do," she confessed, still staring out the windscreen. "Then I went to Burke."
His entire body flooded with relief, the tension from his shoulders dropping as he relaxed back into the car seat.
Not only was she not going down this rabbit hole, she was seeking counsel from someone who might actually be able to help her.
She was dealing with this - in a healthy way - and he knew that her efforts were, if even just a little bit, for him.
He tried not to dwell too much on the niggling stab of guilt for having doubted her.
"I'm sorry," he said after a several long seconds of silence.
He didn't know what else to say. He appreciated her telling him about seeing Burke, but he wasn't sure if he could ask questions about her sessions or not.
Finally, she pulled her focus and her eyes drifted to him.
"You did what you had to do," she said softly.
Yes, she was mad, but she understood.
He looked at his pants, smoothing an imaginary crease across his thigh. "That doesn't make it any easier."
Placing her hand atop his, she slowed his nervous movements.
"I don't want you to feel like I'm working against you," he confessed softly as he intertwined their fingers.
She shook her head, looking up to meet his eyes. "I don't."
"I'm on your side," he added, making sure every ounce of truth penetrated the armour she had donned. "Always."
Of that, she had no doubt.
"I know."
She brought his hand, still cradled in the warmth of hers, to her lips and pressed soft kisses to his knuckles.
"I know," she reaffirmed in a whisper, her breath skirting along his skin.
"Will you stay?"
She nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, still pressed to the back of his hand.
If she was learning anything from all of this, it was that time alone with Castle - any time alone with Castle - was healing. His touch, his warmth - both body and soul - could soothe her in a way she had never experienced before. Simply being in his presence could remedy any affliction, over time.
It's still early days; give yourself time.
So much was changing, so much was uncertain, but the nauseating fear that had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach was... changing.
Amongst the havoc she felt a flutter, a tiny pulsation of excitement, anticipation.
She felt hopeful for the future.
Ruefully, she released his hand from her grasp so that they could get out of the car.
She locked the doors and rounded the car to where he stood, waiting, arm outstretched and ready for her. With her body nuzzled into his side, they headed inside.
As they walked through the front door of the loft, he was already reaching out for her jacket, helping her shrug it off her shoulders. He hung it in the hallway closet, alongside his own.
It was familiar now, like the beginnings of a routine. A routine she could easily get used to: the coming home together at the end of a long day, tired and ready to collapse into bed together.
Yeah, that was definitely something she could embrace.
He moved to the kitchen.
"You hungry?" he called over his shoulder.
"No, thank you."
"Thirsty?" He turned back to face her.
She smiled, shook her head, no. "Just tired."
He crossed the loft until he was by her side again, placed his hand to the side of her face and pressed a long, gentle kiss to her forehead.
She closed her eyes, melted into his touch and let out a heavy breath. She could stay like this forever.
But after a few short seconds, he pulled back.
"We best get you to bed, then."
He took her hand and lead her to his bedroom. From the top drawer of his dresser, he pulled out the shirt and boxers that he had unofficially assigned as 'hers' and passed them to her.
She smiled, recognising that these, too, were becoming familiar.
He moved to the en suite, flicking on the light and pulling a fresh towel from under the vanity.
He held it up as he asked, "Shower?"
She took a few steps toward him, until she stood at the door of the en suite.
"It won't wake anyone up?"
"No, they sleep like the dead."
"In that case, a shower sounds perfect."
She took another step forward, closing the door behind her.
Her eyes met his - inviting, suggestive - and he wasted no time obliging to her unspoken request, stepping forward to claim her lips with his own.
She was a mess, on the verge of tears, as she sat on the edge of his bed, towel-drying her curling locks of hair.
Hormones, the long and emotionally draining day they'd had, and the fatigue of weeks'worth of restless nights were too much. She couldn't hold things in the way she was used to. And that feeling of failure only added to the overwhelming state of her emotions.
She hated this roller coaster, desperate to get off this ride before the constant ups and downs, twists and turns had her too dizzy to know which was forward.
Just fifteen minutes ago she was elated. Warmth cascaded over her entirety: the combination of the water, his body on hers, the love they shared through exploratory touches and possessive kisses.
He was hers; she was his, and in that moment nothing else mattered.
But then that moment was over, an earth-shattering end.
She had cried on release. Just a few, silent tears washed away by the stream of the shower, but she knew he had seen it.
And her head won the battle against her heart as she pushed at his chest until he placed her down on shaky legs, stepping back until the swirl of cooled air was the only thing that covered her too warm skin.
She had barely dried herself before pulling his shirt over her head and fleeing to the bedroom, away from him.
And now she wasn't sure if he was trying to avoid her or offering her a little time and space to gather herself in peace before he joined her, but his absence was heavy.
When the en suite door opened, she stood, holding the damp towel protectively in front of her, as if it could hide her.
He stepped into the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms in front of him as he waited.
She hadn't expected him to be mad at her, but was still relieved to hear his voice was void of any anger or frustration.
She lowered the towel, sensing no need for her figurative shield.
"Was it something I did?"
"No," she asserted, striding toward him.
He read her body language, knew exactly what to do. He stood upright, stepping forward to meet her. He wrapped his arms around her as she collided with him and buried her face in his chest, breathing him in.
"I'm just tired and hormonal," she muttered into his body. "And embarrassed," she added, for good measure.
She felt the hitch in his chest, a chuckle smothered as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"You have no reason to be embarrassed."
"Liar," she accused, jokingly, as she pulled away from his embrace.
She climbed into the side of the bed that she was learning wasn't his favoured side, while he swapped the towel for something a little more comfortable to sleep in.
After turning off the lights and climbing into bed beside her, he pulled her flush against his side, keeping an arm wrapped securely around her.
"I saw Burke," she said after a few minutes of silence.
"You mentioned that." He measured his voice, trying to sound just the right amount of curious. "Did it help?"
She smiled at his restraint, knowing he must have had at least a dozen questions rampaging through his mind.
"Yeah, it did."
She snuggled into him, idly tracing patterns along his bare chest while he brushed his fingers through her hair.
"I think I need to see Josh."
The words came out of nowhere, taking them both by surprise.
She felt Castle's body tense, his arm around her squeezing just a little tighter.
"You want to tell him?"
He felt a little hypocritical, having been the original advocate for telling Josh. But things were different now. Weren't they?
"I don't want to tell him, but..." her voice trailed off, hesitant to continue at all.
He forced himself to relax. He wanted her to talk to him about these things, and he knew that if she picked up on his anxieties about it, she wouldn't.
"It's okay," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair.
"I haven't spoken to him since that day in the park," she whispered, regretting this conversation entirely.
But she knew this had to be done, and she didn't want to keep Castle in the dark.
She had been avoiding this for too long, afraid of the finality of it all.
"I told him I needed time, and I haven't spoken to him since."
He understood what she was saying. The 'end' of her and Josh was still ambiguous.
Because she hadn't spoken to him since, she had no way to know if he was waiting for her or not.
He felt cheated, like she had lulled him into the false sense of security. He had thought she was his to love, but he was still, to some extent, sharing her.
"Do you hate me?" she asked with a shaky voice, and he realised he had stayed silent for too long.
"No. No, Kate, I don't hate you. I just, I don't understand."
He kept up the gentle sweeping of his fingers through her hair, hyper aware of his body language and how she would be interpreting everything left unsaid.
"I just thought it would be an easier conversation once I knew I wouldn't have to come crawling back a few weeks later to tell him I was pregnant."
He sighed. He was starting to understand her misguided logic a little better, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
"You keep trying to make this easy. It's not easy, Kate. Nothing is going to make it so."
"I know."
He didn't want to think about how long this had been on her mind, gnawing at her conscience. He didn't want to consider how long Josh had been a part of their newfound relationship, or how instrumental he had been in getting them to this point.
He didn't want to think about Josh at all, and he couldn't wait until they day they got these test results back so, hopefully, the doctor could finally be put in the past. Where he belonged.
But, for now, she needed closure. And so did he. And, he supposed, Josh deserved it as well.
She had to do this, for all of them.
"What are you going to say to him?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"I don't know," she confessed. "But I need to know that he's not waiting for something that isn't going to happen. I mean, it's been two weeks, I doubt he is, but I just need to know for sure."
"You're sure about this?"
She understood, last time she had been so unsure of everything she managed to dig herself into this hole. But this time, she was determined to dig herself out.
"I can ask Lanie to come with me, if you'd like," she offered.
He knew that she was just trying to ease his concerns, but a persistent worry niggled in his chest.
"Do you feel like you need a buffer?" he asked cautiously.
What you don't know, can't hurt you.
In theory, yes. But in reality, his imagination running wild could probably inflict ten times the damage a confused and emotional Kate could.
She shifted, lifting her head to look him in the eye. Even in the darkness, with nothing but dull city light filtering through his windows, she could see the unmasked emotion on his face.
"No," she said, shaking her head slightly. "I just thought... if you wanted me to-"
"I trust you, Kate," he interrupted.
He didn't want that to ever be mistaken: even in her confusion, despite whatever had happened in the past - both distant and recent - he trusted her inexplicably.
