Castle 1. Chapter 1

**_So i know i am in the middle of another fic, but when i started trying to right chapter three, this idea was buzzing around my head and i now have this and two chapters to follow it. it has a happy ending just so you know, dont give up on it please:) the italic bit are flashbacks, the rest is present day. Please Review!:)_**

* * *

><p>Kate sighed as she all but fell into her Crown Vic. Although it was only six thirty, it had been a long day. Their case had been nothing but dead ends and they had been stuck at the precinct all day with no leads to chase down.<p>

That was what had made it feel so long. She had spent the whole day sitting at her desk, alone. The empty chair, _his_ empty chair, still sat in its usual place, a constant reminder that she was now partnerless.

It had been a week since the last time he sat there. She should have moved it by now. Something always stopped her, every time she stood to remove the painful reminder, there was that annoying voice in the back of her head _he might come back_.

That annoying little voice was giving her false hope. He wasn't coming back. He had said so himself, that day, his last day, he had looked her in the eye and promised her that if she let him get on the elevator she would never see him again.

Part of her had thought he was kidding, he loved her, he had told her that when she lay dying in his arms, he had told her twice more since then as well. He didn't strike her as the kind of person who gave up on the one he loved.

She had gone too far.

Shaking her head, she pulled herself back to the present; she couldn't focus on that now. She subconsciously put the key in the ignition, reaching for the seatbelt out of habit, glancing over at _him_ as she did, just a natural reflex.

She stopped her gentle tugging on the seatbelt as she took in the empty passenger seat. That's all that was left of the man she loved. He was gone, leaving a string of empty chairs in his wake.

She shook her head again, trying to get him off her mind. He had been there a lot lately, he was in her every thought these days. He was at every crime scene, making his usual wise cracks and CIA conspiracy theories. He was in her morning cup of coffee, which she now brought from home in her travel mug, he was at her desk, he was in the break-room, the interrogation room, he was in the elevator, in her car, the morgue, the records room, he was everywhere!

Only he wasn't.

He hadn't been for nearly seven days.

She buckled up and pulled out into traffic, her movements automatic, her brain not needing to concentrate on the meaningless task.

She was hurting, she was upset; she missed him.

She felt tears stinging the back of her eyes. Gripping the steering wheel, she fought for control over her emotions, fighting a losing battle and she knew it.

Without realising it, she was suddenly on her way to his house, her hands turning the wheel, heading towards him, towards the comfort she so craved, towards the comfort she knew only he could provide.

She was just blocks away, her brain catching up with her, she slowed her speed, allowing the tears that had been gathering slowly, finally spill over, clouding her vision.

She pulled over, feeling her body start to shake with the weight of her sobs. She had screwed up this time, he probably wouldn't take her back, not after what she had done, or rather, failed to do.

She crossed a line, they both knew it. Their usual banter had caused her to drop her guard, she had let her walls come down, being comfortable enough in his presence to speak her mind, be herself. She had slipped up and not in a small way.

* * *

><p>'<em>Castle are you coming?'<em>

_They finally had a suspect, Joe Wilder, made a number of phone calls to the vic in the hours leading up to her death. _

"_Right behind you." He said it softly in her ear, his breath tickling the back of her neck, sending chills down her spine. _

_She rolled her eyes as he helped her put on her coat, she didn't need his help; she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. But she let him, like she let him follow her around all day or bring her coffee in the morning, she let him be close to her; she let herself be close to him. _

_He was already spinning a story as to the suspects motives for murder as they got on the elevator, finishing his latest theory, involving mob connections and possible money laundering operation, just as they reached the car. _

_She climbed in, and buckled up, pausing and looking over to him as he did the same. She gunned the engine and they were off, her eyes firmly focused on the road ahead, his eyes watching her intently, never leaving her face. _

"_D__o you mind if we stop off at my place on the way? I spilt coffee on my shirt." as he spoke, his eyes were looking down his body, coming to rest on a fist-sized brown stain three quarters of the way down his chest._

_She rolled her eyes, smiling at his child-like behaviour, muttering under her breath 'a nine year old on a sugar rush… and he spills things' if Castle heard her, he didn't show it. She made the turn that took them in the direction of his loft._

_She was in the middle of an intersection, one block away form his loft, the lights just changing from red to green. _

_He saw it, she didn't. _

"_Kate!" _

_A car was speeding towards them, perpendicular to the Crown Vic, attempting to get through the lights before they changed, clearly in a great hurry. _

_Kate reacted on pure instinct, ramming her foot as hard as she could into the accelerator, wanting to clear the intersection before the car T-boned them, slamming into her door straight on. _

_The car launched itself forward, and thankfully out of the path of the approaching vehicle. She pulled into his underground parking garage, which was less than a hundred meters past the intersection, her arms shaking slightly from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. _

_She was filled with a familiar feeling, the same feeling she had felt just after Castle had disarmed that dirty bomb, the bomb that was about to end their lives. She felt pure ecstasy shoot through her, a bubble of laughter escaping her lips; they were alive. _

_She heard him laugh too, clearly thinking the same thing. She looked at his face, his grin a mirror image of her own, the same look of elation in his eyes. _

'_Now we're even I guess' he smirked at her. _

"_You have now saved my life the same amount of times I have saved yours! Nine each, we're even for now!" _

_They were both laughing, both giddy with joy, they were ok, they were still them, joking and teasing as per usual. _

_The adrenaline and ecstasy still racing through their systems, they fell into silence, their heavy breathing the only sound in the car. _

_Castle turned to face her, the joy somewhat abated from his face, giving her an incredulous look, _

"_Kate, we nearly died!" _

_He swallowed a little louder than necessary, letting her know he was still kidding around but also being a little bit serious. _

_Her head was spinning, still a little bit dizzy after their brush with death. She rolled her eyes at him, the familiar gesture putting him a bit more at ease. _

"_Oh Castle.." _

_She didn't know what brought on the next line, her mind was still reeling, her body still slightly in shock, the filter between her brain and her mouth nowhere to be found, the words were out before she could think about them, before she could stop them. _

_This is why she had built her walls, not to just protect herself, but also to protect others. She kept her guard up all the time; stopping herself from saying the wrong thing should it cross her mind. _

_But with him she always let it slip, a tiny bit of the previously impenetrable wall crumbling and falling away completely every time she showed weakness. _

_She kept her guard up most of the time, but when she let it slip this time it was truly a mistake, one she had a feeling he would never forgive her for, no matter how much he loved her… or used to love her. _

"_Were you gonna tell me you loved me again?"_

* * *

><p>She shook her head violently from side to side, for the third time that day, trying to get the image of his face out of her mind.<p>

Her sobs grew louder, her entire body, right down to her toes, was shaking.

She would never forget how he looked at her. He looked broken, the light in his eyes gone completely. It had taken her less than a second to realise what she had said, and less time than that to regret it.

She had not only admitted to hearing him that day in the cemetery, but she had admitted to lying to him for months afterwards claiming she couldn't remember.

The worst part of what she had said was the tone in which she said it; light and teasing. He had confessed his love to her as she lay in his arms, her very life flowing out of her chest and turning his hand dark crimson, he had told her he loved her because he thought it was the last chance he would ever get, he thought he was going to lose her and that scared the crap out of him.

He had told her he loved her, honestly, truly and deeply loved her and in a moment of weakness she had made a joke about it.

* * *

><p><em>Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening and filling with tears instantly. She wanted to take it back, pretend she hadn't said it; she didn't want to lose him. <em>

_His eyes locked onto hers, his blue orbs held nothing but pain, not even attempting to hide the hurt he was feeling. _

_The intensity of his gaze caused her to look away, breaking the connection, not wanting to see what she had done. _

_Neither of them spoke._

_He leaned away, as if he couldn't bear to be near her anymore. So many questions were swirling through his mind, how long had she remembered? Why had she lied? Did she feel the same? _

"_Do you?" he said, without realising he had not voiced any of his questions._

"_Do you love me?" _

_All she wanted to do was kiss him, seal her lips to his and show him exactly how much she loved him, how much she wanted him, how much she needed him. _

_A tear spilled over, it took every last shred of self control he had not to reach out and catch it, wipe it away with a gentle swish of his thumb, trace the line of her jaw and pull her face to his. But he didn't. He waited. _

_Her walls flew straight back up, blocking her off from him, allowing no further communication. It was her reflex, it was what kept her safe, kept her from being hurt. Only this time, her walls felt more like a prison, they were keeping her away from him and no matter how hard she fought, her brain would not give in to her heart. _

_He couldn't take it, he couldn't sit there any longer and wait for her to decide, if she needed that much time to think about it then the answer was clear. _

_He got out the car, closing the door with a little more force than was required. He left her still frozen, an internal war waging within her, not that he could see it. _

_He heard the door slam as he reached the elevator; steeling himself, he turned to face her, blue meeting green immediately. _

'_Do you?' he asked again, a little softer, so she could just barely hear him. _

_She didn't reply._

"_Its now or never Kate, I'm done chasing you." She could hear the pain in his voice, hating herself for causing it. _

_She willed herself to speak, to say something, anything, no not anything, she willed herself to say those three words, the three words that would change her life forever, give it that permanent sense of meaning she had been feeling and getting used to over the past four years. She willed herself to say it, say 'I love you' to him. But she couldn't. _

_He pressed the elevator call button, hearing the ding as it came down through the various floors, effectively counting down how long she had to decide. He took a step towards her. _

"_Kate, you have a choice, come with me, let me be there for you, not just at work, but at home too. Let me there for you at the end of a long day, when you just need someone to hold you or hug you, let me show you how important you are, how much you mean to me, get on the elevator with me and let me love you" _

_His voice cracked slightly at the end, showing her just how true those final words were. _

_The elevator dinged, one floor away, she was all out of time. _

_She opened her mouth, the words threatening to spill out, to finally tell him what she had been too afraid to say. The elevator doors opened. She lost her nerve, she couldn't do it. _

_A fresh wave of tears washed over her as she watched the colour drain from his face, any glimmer of hope his eyes may have held vanished in an instant. _

'_Kate please, give us a chance." _

_His eyes silently were begging her, pleading with her to throw caution to the wind and trust him. _

_He was desperate, he had tried to convince her, he had even begged her, he had nothing left. _

"_Kate if you don't get on this elevator with me, you wont see me again. I wont chase after you anymore, I'm done, I can't take it. You deserve happiness Kate, you just have to try."_

_His voice was thick with emotion, his words hanging between them weighing down on them, suffocating them. _

_He stepped onto the elevator, giving her one last chance to join him, but she didn't, she didn't move an inch, tears cascading down her face, green eyes filled with misery. _

She found herself reliving the moment. She was standing in exactly the same spot she had been that day, somehow she had gathered her wits about her enough to get her to his garage.

The same emotions she had experienced the last time she laid eyes on him were once again coursing through her, threatening to break her.

She wanted to run into his arms, bury her face in his neck and let him hold her, and soother her, make everything ok again. She wanted that now every bit as bad as she had wanted it then.

"_I will always love you Kate, despite everything I have always loved you, and I will never stop."_

_This was it, his final attempt to be with her. But she remained stock still. _

_As the elevator doors began sliding shut, he whispered his final words_

"_I love you Kate… Always." _

_Then the doors were closed and he was gone. _

"_I love you" Her voice was shaking, her emotions crashing down on her, forcing her to slide down against the car, knees to her chest, her face buried in her hands. _

"_I love you." She said again, to no one but the empty air. _

_Too little too late. _

She pulled herself together as she walked towards the elevator, hating herself for not doing it last time, for not stepping forward when it really counted. She hated herself for building those walls, for keeping herself locked up for so long, for forgetting how to let people in.

She hated herself for letting him get on the elevator, for breaking down on the cold hard garage floor one week ago. She hated that she had been so weak, that she had hurt him again when she had promised herself she never would.

She hated that it had taken her this long to come back.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, and wiping the tear tracks off her cheeks, she got on the elevator, standing a little to the right, leaving space for him, space he wasn't there to claim, but she felt it was rightfully his, that was where he belonged; beside her.

Getting off on his floor, she did not give her brain time to stop her, she was not going to let it ruin this for her again, not when she stood to lose so much.

She raised her hand to knock on his door, her mouth already shaping the words she planned on saying. Her knuckle made contact with the wood, once, twice, three times, and she listened for any movement.

She whispered the words to herself, making sure she said them just right, making sure he would understand that she meant them wholeheartedly.

She whispered them once more as she heard the dead bolt being shifted on the opposite side of the door.

She whispered to herself one final time before the door swung open.

I Love you.

* * *

><p><strong><em>So please review and let me know if it is worth continuing, i do have the rest of it planned anyway:) a happy ending is promised!:) PLEASE REVIEWWW! (and check out my other fics if you can) BC<em>**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you for the reviews and alerts!:) really made my day, and forced me into writing this chapter alot faster!:) please let me know what you think! all mistakes are my own. **_

**_I do not own castle:P_**

* * *

><p>He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ease the knots that were forming at the base of his skull. He had spent the night sitting upright against the wall, head lolling forward, chin to chest. It was not an ideal way to sleep; then again he had not been sleeping.<p>

He groaned as the rest of his body began to assault him with other aches and pains. The most prominent pain was in his head; it throbbed in a way so bad he felt as if his eyes were going to bulge right out or their sockets.

Even through his eyelids, the sun was blinding bright, only intensifying the pounding in his ears, the head ache that was a result of his whisky diet.

It had been a week.

He regretted last night, as he had predicted he would. He didn't want his daughter to see him like this. He didn't want to give her another reason to hate _her. _He couldn't even think her name, he had not allowed himself to since the last time he saw her.

He cringed as he finally opened his eyes, the light burning into his bloodshot blue orbs as he staggered up, trying to close the blinds without looking into the sun. His office darkened considerably, but it was not enough. His head still felt as if he had jumped of the Empire State building and landed on it.

_If she could only see what she was doing to me._

He hadn't left his loft, or his office even. Fortunately his mother had not been at home for the last week, she had decided to treat herself to a spa week, on his credit card of course.

Alexis had been around but had the sense to leave him be, she knew there was only one person who could help her dad and the chances of that happening were less than one in a million.

He had locked himself in his office, hardly moving except to relieve himself and to pour himself another drink; eventually he resigned to swigging it straight out of the bottle to save himself the inevitable trips.

He had started his little self-pity fest exactly a week ago today. The first few days he had simply moped around, staying in his pyjamas and just being lazy, not used to having the whole day free. He had been more ok then, he still had a bit of hope.

He knew he had screwed up.

He knew she had screwed up.

He'd be lying if he said she hadn't hurt him. He had asked her on multiple occasions if she remembered anything about the shooting and every time she had answered no.

A part of him had wanted to believe her, believe she was telling the truth and that she really didn't remember him say he loved her. He didn't want to believe that she was lying.

But there was another part of him that knew she was.

That part of him had been content to wait. Wait for her to be ok with it, to accept it and see for herself that it was real. That part of him was happy to wait as long as it took for her to love him back. That part of him knew she would bring it up when she was ready.

Which is why he had been surprised when she brought it up seven days ago.

He would have been ok with talking about it, he would have understood her need to lie to him for so long, he would have listened to what she had to say and he would have proved to her how much he still loved her.

But she hadn't given him that chance. She had made it into a joke.

He should have had better control over himself; he should have tried harder to hide the hurt in his eyes. He could see how much she regretted saying it but he couldn't help how betrayed he felt.

And then he had made the biggest mistake of his life. He had rushed her, he hadn't taken it slowly and given her time, like he knew she would need, he rushed right into asking her if she felt the same, one thousand and one other questions had been racing through his mind and that was the one he decided to ask.

He had made her cry.

That was what broke him. He had made the super strong, smart, sassy independent Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD, muse and love of his life cry. And for that he would never forgive himself.

And then as if that wasn't bad enough, he had given her less than a minute to decide if she loved him or not. He had not offered to talk about it; he had not put anything up for discussion. He had told her _'its now or never Kate, I'm done chasing you' _he had lied.

He had tried to scare her into coming with her and he had ended up losing her completely. He remembered how he had broken down in the elevator lashing out, his fist connecting with the wall, not even flinching as he herd the _pop_ of the knuckles dislocating. He was kicking himself for ruining things with her, for upsetting her, for pushing her away.

That first night he had fallen asleep on the floor by the front door, expecting her to come knocking on it at any second.

She never came.

He had held onto his phone, keeping it clutched in his hand, ensuring he would feel it vibrate with a text or call should he momentarily lose his hearing and be unable to hear the phone ring at the exact minute she decided to call.

She never called.

And now here he was, a week later, still waiting for her to come, drowning his pain day after day, night after night.

He had realized early on in his drunken haze, that being under the influence seemed to dull the pain; make him believe that everything was not that bad. As his state progressed, he found that as much as it had hurt before, he was now having a hard time remembering what it was that had caused him to drink in the first place.

Which had brought him back to thoughts of Ka- _her. _Even when intoxicated he still remembered not to think her name.

At one point, somewhere near the bottom of his first bottle, he came to a great realization. He realized how Jim Beckett must have felt all those years ago when he lost the love of _his_ life. While Rick's love was not dead, he had effectively lost her in the sense that he would almost certainly never see her again, which was almost as bad.

He felt himself sympathising with the older Beckett, now understanding why he had done it, why he had turned to alcohol.

Realising that he was comparing his situation to having your wife brutally murdered, Rick's hands quickly found their way around the neck of another bottle.

He mentally shook himself, not wanting to think about the past week. He was ashamed of how he had acted. He knew it was time to move on from this phase. He had to do something productive, something that didn't remind him of her.

He stood up, bracing himself on the wall, leaning heavily on his arms as his head spun and his legs threatened to give out on him. When he eventually had control over his limbs, he made a move towards the bathroom, his mind set on the bottle of painkillers he knew he had in the cupboard under the sink.

He noted the state of the living room as he passed through it. There were about four discarded glasses lying on the carpet. A bottle lay on the wooden floor, lid off, most of the amber liquid within had leaked out and was now pooled around the bottle.

There was more than one blood smear on the couch, and a few more on the carpet. He also noticed that on one of the glasses, the one closest to him, there was a set of bloody fingerprints.

He mentally checked his body, trying to think through the throbbing pain in his head, he checked all the various aches and pains, trying to work out which one could possibly have left bloodstains on the furniture.

He lifted his hand to his head, meaning to check if he had any cuts or grazes that he had failed to notice in his current state.

As soon as he moved his hand he remembered, he had punched the wall when the elevators had closed and he found himself standing alone, and a little to the left, leaving a space for her to stand whether she had chosen to be in it or not.

He remembered hearing his fingers pop out of their joints in protest to the violent movement, but flexing them now, which hurt immensely, he could feel that they had since popped themselves back in, effectively fixing themselves.

What his hand had not managed to fix was the broken layer of skin, which had previously been covering his knuckles. The skin had split on impact and opened; causing the blood he could now see before him.

He made a note to bandage up his hand and to send the couch cushions and carpet in for dry cleaning. The glass he could take care of himself.

But not before he swallowed his painkillers and a big greasy breakfast.

He resumed his previous path towards his bedroom and then his bathroom. He was half way to the study when he heard a noise. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a quiet, timid knock, however, his throbbing head had lead to his senses being heightened and so what was usually quiet knocking now sounding to him like someone playing wack-a-mole on his head.

He sighed and turned back towards the front door, racking his brains trying to figure out who would be coming to see him. Alexis had been staying with a friend for the past week, his mother was away and there was no one else that he would expect to be stopping by at…. Wow, it was nearly seven thirty, he had let another whole day go by in a drunken blur.

As he started walking towards the door, he told himself this was the last day he would do this. Tomorrow he would be better, tomorrow he would pull it together so his mother and daughter could come home, tomorrow he would.

Its what he told himself yesterday, and the day before that and the day before that. Its what he had been telling himself for the last seven days.

He finally reached the door, not bothering to look through the peephole, his building was very secure, he had made sure of that when he decided he would live here with his child, he wanted to keep her safe from the world.

As a result, his building was one of the safest in New York City, he was fairly certain the doorman wouldn't let anyone dangerous come up to his apartment. So he did not look through the peephole.

Taking a breath to steady himself, and ease his pounding headache ever so slightly, he unlocked the door, shifting the deadbolt across with practiced ease.

He paused before opening the door. His plan was to politely tell whoever was on the other side of it that now was not a good time and could he catch up with them later. He was in no mood to be charming or even friendly really, he would get rid of this random visitor and then he would clean himself up.

As he turned the doorknob, he began forming his apology and excuse.

The words died on his lips as he took in the sight before him.

* * *

><p><strong><em>SO there you have it!:) please leave a review so i know how many people are interested in reading still!:) thanks BC<em>**


	3. Chapter 3

**_So just letting you all know, i am in the middle of writing another fic which is actually my main focus, this one was just annoying me so i had to get it out there, i did not expect such an incredible response and i really had no where to take it. I just finished writing this chapter and i dont know what i think of it, please please review and let me know. _**

* * *

><p>"Kate"<p>

He was the first to speak, as always. He always took the first step, he was the first to push forward, he was the first to apologise, or fill the awkward silences.

He was done being first.

"I…"

She trailed off, she was freezing up again, the words wouldn't come out. Her walls were going back up and he was still on the wrong side of them.

"I-I…"

She stuttered. The words were right there, on the tip of her tongue, why couldn't she just say them.

Her eyes filled with tears, and he hated himself. He was doing this to her, he was upsetting her, he was making her cry.

He vowed to himself then and there that no matter what happened, he would never be the reason for her tears again.

He had spent the last seven days in his own personal brand of hell and it was her fault. She had put him there. She had done that to him.

But suddenly, none of it mattered. He didn't care that she had hurt him, he didn't care that she had lied to him and broken his heart, he didn't care that she didn't love him back, because _he_ loved _her_ and he couldn't stand seeing her like that.

He was still angry, he was still hurting, he was still in pain, he would bury it deep down. He would ignore it and deal with it later, because she needed him and she always came first. Always.

He reached out to her, putting his arms around her, he pulled her to him, catching her head between his hand and his chest, wrapping his other arm around her waist, holding her close.

He slowly pulled her into the loft, keeping a firm hold on her, making sure she didn't fall. Using his foot, he swung the door closed, then slowly maneuvered them over to the couch.

Neither of them said anything. Her hands were fisted in his shirt, her face buried in the material, pressed close to his chest, her ear over his heart beat. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent that was him, mixed in with the unmistakable smell of alcohol.

She couldn't be certain, but she was sure it was the same shirt he had been wearing the last time she saw him, seven days ago. One quick glance downward told her that it was; there was a coffee stain on it.

It made her cry harder.

_What have I done? _She was disgusted with herself, this man had shown her nothing but love for the last four years, making sure she ate and slept, bringing her coffee every morning, supporting her and giving her space whenever she needed.

He had always been there for her and she did this to him.

Not anymore.

"Rick I-"

She tried again, tried to get out the words she had practiced saying so many times. It had been so easy when she was on the other side of the door, she had been so confident and sure of herself. She meant the words, she really did, but her brain and her heart were at war and the latter was not proving to be victorious.

"Shhh, its ok."

It wasn't ok. They knew it. Every thing was a mess, they had both screwed up, they had both gotten hurt. But he wasn't about to make it worse. He wasn't about to remind her how bad things were. She knew.

She hated him. She hated that he was so nice to her, that he still loved her after everything she had done. It would have been easier for her if he had been angry at her, made her fight for him, because that was what she wanted to do, she wanted to show him what he meant to her, she wanted to show him that she knew he was worth fighting for.

She felt so guilty for what she had done to him, what she was doing to him. This only made it worse.

But at the same time, she loved him. Because she knew that no matter what she did, or how badly she screwed up, he would be there for her at the end of the day, he would be there to comfort her whether she wanted him to or not, just like always. She loved that he put her first even when he was hurting, even when she had hurt him.

He was a blessing and a curse all in one.

She had to tell him, he had to know how much he meant to her, how much she had hated being apart from him for a week, how much she had missed him.

_She is here to apologise, say she is sorry she doesn't love me. _He didn't need to hear it twice. It had been hard enough to stand there the first time and watch her battle with herself, watch her walls go up with double security, every crack filled in, no little hole he could slip through. It had been hard enough being shut out once; he didn't think he could go through it again.

"I forgive you"

That's what he thought she wanted from him? His forgiveness? She was without a doubt very sorry for what she had done, she wished so much she could take it back, take back the hurt she had obviously caused him in the past week, but she couldn't, she couldn't apologise and expect everything to be better, and she didn't.

She stepped away from him, bracing her hands on his chest, using them as a lever to push herself back a few steps, she needed to look him in the eye, she needed him to know that she meant everything she was about to say.

"I was scared" He voice came out barely above a whisper, cracking under the weight of her words, her admission.

It was not a big deal to admit to being scared, but he knew her, he knew how much it meant to her to be strong, to be fearless, to never show weakness. He knew she saw fear as a weakness, and that she never admitted to being scared. For her to say it to him was definitely a big deal.

She had to go on, get it all out before she lost her nerve, before her brain caught up with her and silenced her.

"I-I can't lose you, not now. We've come so far, y-you are too important to me. If I lose you, I'll lose who I am, I'll lose who you make me."

He had never seen her like this, so scared, so vulnerable, so open. He knew how hard this must be for her, how difficult she found it to talk about her feelings. He knew how wrong it must feel for her, going against all her natural instincts, and he was touched that she was making the effort for him, that she was trying to let him in.

"If I lose you now, I'll go back to being the old me, I don't even know who she is Castle, I don't know who I am without you. I don't know who I'll _be_ without you."

Her voice was shaking, she hated herself for sounding so weak. She stared at her hands, still braced on his chest, the wrinkled material bunching under her palm, tickling her slightly, keeping her grounded, reminding her what was real.

It dawned on her that she had nothing to be afraid of. She had nothing left to lose, he was all she had and she had lost him seven days ago, right here and right now, she stood to lose nothing but gain everything.

That thought gave her the courage to carry on.

"I couldn't risk losing you, couldn't risk letting you in and letting you love me, because I am damaged goods Castle, I am so messed up and I didn't want you to see me like that, I didn't want you to see me so broken... I didn't want you to wake up one day and realise that I'm not Nikki Heat that I am not the smart, savvy, sexy detective you fell in love with that I'm not _extraordinary._"

She stopped as she felt the hot tears running down her cheeks, burning a pathway down her face, blurring her vision and making his face look fuzzy.

She choked on her tears as she whispered

"I didn't want you to wake up one day and realise that you could do so much better than me, that you _deserved_ so much better than me. I was so scared to lose you that I didn't realise I already had."

She couldn't hold back the sobs any longer, she let the pain, the regret and the guilt wash over her, claim her for the shortest while. She let herself cry for the first time in a long time; she let herself break down in front of him.

He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he had been expecting but it sure as hell wasn't that. He had no idea she felt that way, that he meant so much to her. He thought he knew her, thought he understood her better than anyone, he thought he could see right through her, but she had surprised him once again. She always found a way of surprising him, sharing something about herself he had never even guessed at, this time was no different.

This was what he cherished, the little moments when she let him in, told him how she felt, what she was thinking, shared something innately personal with him, it was one of the uncountable-number of things he loved about her.

He took a step towards her, closing the space between them, pulling her back into his arms holding her to him, riding out the storm with her.

She cried without reservations, she didn't try and suppress the tears, she didn't try to hide her pain, she let it all out. She was done keeping things from him, she was done dealing with everything alone, she was done waiting and she was done making him wait.

She turned her head up to look him in the eye. Blue met green and it felt so right, to be there, in his loft, in his arms, in his eyes. She was exactly where she was meant to be; she had found her place.

She pulled back slightly, keeping her body pressed to his from the waist down. Placing her hands on either side of his face, she looked deeply into his eyes, making sure she had his full attention for what she was about to say.

"I. Love. You." She said each word pointedly, making sure he understood, making sure he could see in her eyes that it was true, that is had always been true.

He didn't reply and for a second she thought he had changed his mind, that in her week's absence he had convinced himself that he didn't need her, that he didn't want her.

Her fears were short lived as his hand found its way into her hair, pulling her face to his, sealing his lips to hers.

It was a gentle kiss, both of them taking it slow, exploring, tasting, feeling. It was everything their first kiss should have been, passionate and full of love, on their own terms and in their own time. The sense of urgency and fear that had tainted their real first kiss was absent, it was just them, just their love for one another.

His tongue traced her bottom lip, begging her for entry she was only too happy to grant. Their tongues danced together, each giving as good as they got, in perfect synchronisation, as if they had been doing it their whole lives.

It was her last first kiss, of that she was certain.

They finally broke apart, when their need for air outweighed their need for each other but they stayed close, his arms still around her, her one hand still on his cheek, the other having slipped around to grasp the back of his neck. Their foreheads rested together, noses touching, breathing ragged.

All was not forgiven, and there was still one secret that remained hidden, but for the time being none of it mattered, because she had him, and he had her, and it was enough for now.

* * *

><p><strong><em>So i could leave it there, maybe change the last sentence for a good ending, but i do have an idea on how to continue, involving Castle's secret and the mystery man who keeps calling Caste about protecting Beckett, it entails a twist i dont think anyone has thought about!:D but if no one is interested i will leave this one here and maybe post the other fic at a later date. PLEASE LET ME KNOWW! REVIEW!:) <em>**


	4. Chapter 4

**_ I am so sorry it took so long, i had the worst writers block known to man! this chapter felt a bit weird, i dont know why, and it was very hard to write for some reason? not very pleased with it, but i couldnt see it getting any better and its been a week so here it is. _**

* * *

><p>He was awake. Still. He shouldn't be, the events of the past week and in particular, the past few hours, should have knocked him out completely<p>

But he was awake; he was thinking.

He was savouring the moment, committing every detail to memory, the feel of her warm cheek against his bare chest, her curls tickling his chin and filling his nose with the irresistible smell of cherries. He was revelling in the feel of her naked body pressed so closely to his, not sexual as it had been hours before, there was no pressure building, no lust or desire to take it any further, it was just intimate, close, comfortable. He gently squeezed her hip, pressing her closer to him, without waking her.

She was asleep.

And why wouldn't she be? She had spent the last seven days tossing and turning, crying herself into a fitful sleep, only to wake hours later to be plagued by the memories of his heartbroken expression.

She had lived with the fact that she could have easily avoided it all if she had just said those three little words to him. She could have saved herself all the pain, all the sleepless nights, all the Castle-less days, everything, if she had just gotten on the elevator with him seven days ago.

That had exhausted her, both emotionally and physically, but it was nothing compared to the past twenty-four hours. She had come back, it had taken her far longer than either of them would have liked, but she had done it. She had put her mistake to rights, she had come back to him; she had begun mending what she had broken.

They had spent hours trying to fix each other. Both determined to show the other exactly how much they meant to them. They took their time, touching, tasting, feeling and exploring. Getting to know each other in a whole new way.

That had exhausted them both further.

It was not enough, for either of them, but they were tired, she was tired, she needed her sleep.

She had finally drifted off into a deep slumber, cradled firmly against his chest, her legs tangled with his, their bodies fitting so perfectly together, they completed each other. Opposites in so many ways and yet they were so well connected, so dependant on each other, like yin and yang, but there was no black and white, no good and bad, only him and her, only them.

She fell asleep, her secret was out, and it had nearly broken them completely, but they come back from it, they _always_ came back from it. She wasn't hiding anything from him, and now she had him, she could rest easy. She could sleep knowing they had tomorrow and every day after that together.

He did not have the same luxury.

He couldn't sleep knowing that everything would be ok in the morning. Because there was always a chance it wouldn't be. He couldn't sleep knowing that his secret was out and that they had gotten through it, because it wasn't, and there was a chance they wouldn't.

He couldn't sleep because he knew there was a chance there would be no tomorrow for them.

There was a chance she would stumble across the research in his office and hate him for digging into her mother's murder, for digging into her past. There was a chance she would hate him for opening her wounds, for going against her, for doing it without her. There was a chance she would leave again.

There was a chance she would never come back.

He had lost her before. Watched the life leave her eyes, felt the warmth leave her body. But she had come back from it, she had come back to him. Only to leave him again. He had lived without her for three months. Maybe 'lived' was the wrong word, he had _survived_ without her, and just barely.

But as far as he had known, she hadn't heard his confession, she was just recovering, trying to heal herself, trying repair the damage on her own, without him, just like always. She was going to call when she was ready. She was going to call.

He didn't think he could ever hurt as badly as he did in those three months.

It was unbearable, he felt half alive, like a part of him was missing, and in so many ways, it was. She balanced him out, she was the responsible one, he was the fun one, together they balanced each other. Without her, he had to be both, he had to be _her_, had to be focused and determined, not fun and childish. He overcompensated, lost himself in her case, the way she had done in her mother's.

It had been bad, but she had come back, she had saved him and she didn't even realise it.

He thought that was as bad as it got, that nothing could ever hurt him as much as those three months had.

Then the last seven days had hit him.

He lost her again and it hurt so much more than the first time. It had been so much worse. The memory of that summer came back to slap him in the face, the knowledge that maybe this time he had screwed it up for good.

Three months without her had been unbearable, but those last seven days had been hell. Losing her once had been horrific, but losing her twice had _very_ nearly broken him.

He knew he couldn't live through losing her a third time. After everything that happened last night, his heart couldn't take it again. They had gone too far, been through too much, they had gotten too close. If she walked away from him again, he was fairly certain it would break them forever, there would be no coming back, there would be no fixing them, there would _be_ no them.

These thoughts were keeping him awake.

He couldn't risk her finding out on her own, he had to tell her what he's done, what he'd found. Telling her he had been digging into her mother's case would hurt her. There was no question about it. She would shout, she would scream, she would be angry. She would be furious.

There was no way to avoid it, her rage was inevitable, she was going to hate him. It would probably make her cry; he was going to hate himself for that.

He didn't want to think about it anymore. And for the moment, he didn't have to.

It was three in the morning, he still had time. He was there, and so was she, lying curled into him, sound asleep, blissfully unaware. She needed to rest, the day had been too emotionally draining for her.

He was enjoying the moment, savouring it, loving it. She was so vulnerable, lying in his embrace, trusting him to be there for her, trusting him to not let her go. He loved it. He loved that she trusted him so much, he loved that she loved him enough to let him hold her.

He didn't want it to end, he wanted to lie there next to her for the rest of his life, he wanted to go to sleep with her every night, and wake up with her every morning. He wanted her to lay her head on his chest and feel at home, feel she belonged. He wanted to love her for the rest of their lives, he wanted her to love him for just as long.

Which is why he had to tell her. She had to know.

If he wanted to have her forever, he couldn't have any secrets.

He had to tell her soon because the longer he waited, the worse it got, the angrier she would be, the more she would hate him. He had to tell her soon and hope that she trusted him enough, that she loved him enough, to see why he did it, to see why he _had to_ do it.

He did it to give her closure. He did it to keep her safe, he _had_ to keep her safe, even if it was from her own self.

He had to do it right, he had to tell her everything and he had to make her understand. He couldn't lose her, not again. He had to believe that they were going to be okay, he had to believe that they were strong enough to get past it.

Because if he didn't, who would?

He would wake her with a kiss in the morning, make her breakfast, make her laugh, make her smile. He would treat her like a princess before he brought her world crashing down around her.

He would sit her down in his office, and calmly explain to her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, how much his own life depended on whether or not her heart kept beating. He would tell her in no uncertain terms that he would gladly sacrifice himself for her, he would gladly put himself in danger if it meant keeping her alive, if it meant keeping her safe.

He had to make her see how important she was to him.

It would freak her out, she would start to worry, ask him what he was talking about, where he was going with it. He would show her his makeshift murder-board, her own face centre screen.

He would stand in the doorway, blocking her escape. She would push him, try to get past, but he would hold steady. She needed to hear it. He needed to say it, tell her why he did it, what he found.

He would explain the phone calls, show her the grainy photo of the man who had been at the receiving end. She would shout at him, chastise him for endangering himself, for not telling her sooner, for going behind her back; for keeping it from her. She would try to leave again, he would try to stop her.

She would stay.

He had to stay positive, he had to believe she would understand, she would see, he had to believe she would stay, or he would never be able to tell her.

He had to tell her.

She had to know.

Where they went from there, he didn't know. He didn't even know if there would be a '_they'_ after he told her. Maybe there would be no '_them'_ anymore. Maybe there would only be a '_he' _and a '_she'._

Maybe he would lose her after all.

Maybe he wouldn't.

He would never get over it. He would never move past it. But as long as there was a _she_ in the world, he would survive. As long as she was still alive, as long as she was still safe, he could live with the hurt, the pain, the rejection.

As long as there was a Kate Beckett in the world, there would be a Rick Castle.

He would tell her. In the morning. He would tell her and he would hope to whatever higher power existed that he would find himself in his current position twenty four hours later. With a beautiful Katherine Beckett asleep on his chest.

He would do it in the morning.

For now, he was living in the moment. He held her close to his chest, feeling her warm breath blowing softly across his skin, reminding him of what he had now.

He would worry about tomorrow when tomorrow came. For now he was content to fall asleep with the love of his life safely enclosed in his arms. For now he would focus on what he had, not what he stood to lose.

He would tell her tomorrow, he would risk losing her tomorrow, but for now, he would hold onto her, he would love her like it was the last chance he was going to get, because it may very well be.

* * *

><p><strong><em>So there you have it. Not my best chapter, but anyway.. please review and let me know what you think! in the next chapter secrets will be told:) than one should be better (i hope) and then i will let you all in on the idea i have had since 'linchpin'!:) exciting times:) please review so i know if anyone is still interested!:) thanks:)<em>**


	5. Chapter 5

**_So i am sorry but this chapter was impossible to write. like seriously i just barely battled my way through it. It feels weird and i am not so confident about how the rest of this story is going to go anymore so this may or may not be the final chapter:_**

* * *

><p>He woke again at 7:30. He was exhausted and completely drained, but he knew there was no chance of going back to sleep.<p>

She was still snuggled up to him, her legs still tangled with his, her head still resting on his chest. He still had his arms securely wrapped around her, moulding her body perfectly to his.

Her breathing was still even, her muscles still relaxed; she was still asleep.

He just lay and held her for a while longer, treasuring the moment.

She looked so peaceful sleeping on his chest, she looked so happy, so comfortable; she looked so at-home. He couldn't wake her, he couldn't pull her out of this peaceful sleep only to completely destroy her.

He couldn't. He wouldn't.

He felt her shift slightly, her hand coming up to rest on his throat, her fingers brushing his pulse point lightly, her legs tightening their hold on his. Even in sleep, she felt the urge to be as close to him as possible, to hold him close to her. She had spent a good four years resisting that urge, now she was making up for lost moments.

He bowed his head, pressing a kiss into her hair, exhaling as he did so. The rush of air disturbed her, her brow crinkled slightly in annoyance before she rolled over, away from him, onto her side. Her hand slid off his throat down his arm pulling it over her shoulder, cradling his hand against her chest, wrapping herself up in his embrace.

Her unconscious mind was apparently a lot clingier than her conscious one.

He was now spooning her, his front to her back, her head resting on his arm. It was comfortable, it was simple, it was them.

The longer he lay with her, the more attached he became to the moment, the more he wanted it to last, to never end, to repeat. Lying with her in his arms as the morning sunlight shone through the curtains was all he ever wanted to do.

He wanted to start every day like this, happy, complete, and with her.

Last night had been a mistake. They had gone too far too fast. They were too emotional, too reckless, it was too much for them to handle.

They should have talked, he should have come clean with her then, told her before they entered into a relationship, in case she changed her mind, in case she decided she hated him for what he did, in case she left again.

They should have talked, but they didn't. They never did. They let their actions speak for them, expressing their love and need for one another in an intimate way words just could not describe. It had been the most incredible night of his life, future, past and present. Aside from his daughter's birth, nothing would ever come close to matching the feeling he experienced when their bodies finally became one.

It was that incredible night that would make it so much harder to handle if she left.

Lying in this position, it was easier for him to slip away, untangle himself from her without disturbing her sleep. He slid his arm out from under her head, gently kissing her temple when she stirred, then it was a simple matter of pulling his other arm out of her grasp, which he did carefully.

It took everything he had to leave her behind him, to put so much space between their bodies, but he had to, there were things he needed to do before he told her.

He looked around for his pants, unable to remember where in his house they had been when they came off. He finally spotted them, lying inside out in the doorway to his office. He moved quickly towards them, not making a sound, pulling them on as he hopped through his study.

He moved through to the kitchen and put on some coffee. He always greeted her first thing in the morning with coffee, it was their thing. So he would give her coffee again, maybe for the last time.

He had to stop thinking like that, like everything was going to end. Maybe it wouldn't, maybe they would get through it.

He wasn't fooling even himself.

Quickly pouring the hot brown liquid into two mugs, he walked back towards the study, weaving his way through the couches in the living room and stepping over various articles of clothing they had left scattered in their wake last night.

He walked into the office and set both mugs down on the desk. He pulled the electronic murder board out from its corner of the room, moving it so that it was noticeable, could easily be seen.

He could hear Kate moving around in his bed, slowly waking up.

He didn't want her to wake up alone in his bed. He ran back into the room and quietly got back under the covers , snuggling up to her back.

"Mmmmm.."

She rolled over, closer to him, her head falling into the crook of his neck, her lips smiling against his throat.

"I love you" She breathed, before placing a wet, open mouthed kiss against his racing pulse.

He had fantasised about this very moment too many times to count, but right then, right when she said those words to him, he wished she hadn't.

"I love you, _so_ so much" he put in some extra emphasis, wanting her to understand how true his words were.

They lay there for a few more minutes, thinking back over the nights events.

"We need to talk." She said it in a way that told him she didn't want to. She just wanted to go from where they were, carry on from last night. She didn't want to talk about how they finally got there, she just wanted to _be_ there.

He nodded his head,

"I have coffee waiting for you when you are ready" he whispered quietly into her hair, holding her body tightly against his. He kissed her on the forehead, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

He was being a gentleman, giving her a chance to get changed and whatever else she may need to do. He gave her one last longing look, memorising how incredibly sexy she looked lying, completely exposed, in his bed.

He sat on the edge of his desk and waited for her to emerge.

He should be used to it by now, the waiting, but he wasn't. He still hated it.

The waiting.

* * *

><p>When she finally walked out, she was wearing the same silky bra and matching lace panties she had on last night, being the last layer of clothing she had on, they were one of the last to be removed, and so ended up relatively near their final destination; the bed. The rest of her clothes were strewn across his living room, along with her gun and badge. She had his shirt on, not the one he had been wearing, but a different one, a clean one; she had been through his cupboard.<p>

Normally he would have made a comment, some innuendo about her making herself at home already, but not today. It was not the time for their playful banter.

Since he had left her, he had moved multiple times, repositioning himself, the murder board, the papers on his desk. He even went so far as to rearrange his bookshelf, putting the Nikki Heat series closer to him. Why? He didn't know, but it comforted him somehow, as though he would always have a part of her near by no matter the outcome of their talk.

It had been less than ten minutes since he had left her. Eight minutes and seventeen seconds to be precise, not that he was counting. But to him it had felt like an eternity.

He was so nervous, she picked up on it almost immediately.

"Everything okay?"

She smiled at him, _that_ smile. He had to fight himself for control, force himself to remain still and not whisk her into his arms and ravage her.

He nodded, smiling back, doing everything to try and reassure her, failing horribly. She knew him just as well as he knew her, she could tell something was up, and her gut told her it was nothing good.

She sat down on the couch, he was standing across from her, deciding he was far too jittery to sit still.

"Why did you lie to me Kate?"

Her face fell. She thought they had moved past it, she thought last night that he had forgiven her, at least in part. She thought he had understood, she didn't think he would make her say it again.

"I-I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want to rush into something and risk hurting you."

She felt numb, she couldn't see where this was going, she didn't understand why he was asking her again.

He was watching her intently, trying to see how she was feeling. She looked hurt, like he was hurting her. He had to force himself to go on.

"You were protecting me." It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway.

"You didn't tell me because you wanted to be ready, you were protecting me from you." Another not question, another nod.

She didn't know why he was doing this to her, why he was going through it all again, what he was trying to prove.

"You knew it was wrong, but it was the best way you could think of to keep me safe. You did it because you love me and you don't want to hurt me. Right?" that one was a question.

"Rick I-"

"Right?" he interrupted her, he had to carry on, he would lose his nerve other wise.

She nodded, confusion etched into her face, her eyes locked on his, trying to follow what was going on, trying to see where he was going with all this, trying to hide her hurt.

"I understand." he whispered.

She didn't.

If she was lost before, it was nothing compared to right now. Was he trying to tell her that he forgave her? Or that he didn't? Or was he taking it another way entirely?

"I understand wanting to protect me, even if you were wrong. You were doing what you could, you were trying. You did it because you love me."

She knew that already, she knew why she had done what she did, why was he telling her all this?

He was trying to draw a parallel between their secrets. Trying to make her understand that he did what he did to keep her safe, just as she lied to him to keep _him_ safe. It wasn't the same at all, but he hoped she would see the similarity, understand that he did it for her, he did it because he loves her.

"Kate I need you to hold onto that, remember that you did something wrong to protect me, you didn't want to hurt me, but you went about it the wrong way, I need you to remember that when I tell you this ok?"

His eyes were pleading with her, begging her to understand, to forgive him. But for what she didn't know.

"Rick what's going on?" her voice was a few octaves too high, she was starting to panic.

"Kate I need you to hear me out, I need you not to leave, I need you to listen ok? Please just promise me you will listen."

He was outright begging with her now, unashamedly begging.

She didn't like it. Everything in her was telling her to run, to get out of there before she got hurt. Her stomach was tied in knots, her palms sweaty. She had a bad feeling about this.

But she nodded. She trusted him.

"I love you, I have loved you for a while now. I have loved you since that summer you refused to come to the Hamptons with me and I made the biggest mistake of my life and took another woman. I realised that summer that you were it Kate, I didn't want Gina, I wanted you. I always want you."

He paused, making sure she was still following, that she was still paying attention, she was so he continued.

"When you were shot, I felt like the bullet had hit me. When you crashed in the ambulance and I thought you were gone for good, I half expected my own heart would stop beating, because I couldn't imagine living in a world where you didn't exist. And I didn't want to."

He stopped again, shuddering at the memory.

She was stunned, still weary, she could see he wasn't done, and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what came next.

" I couldn't let that happen again Kate, I couldn't let them hurt you again, and they would have, if you had kept digging, kept searching. They would have killed you Kate and I couldn't let them, I can't let them."

He stopped, hoping she would figure it out on her own, that she would understand. Her face remained blank, impassive.

"Say it."

Her voice was cold. There was no trace of emotion, no anger, no sadness, no nothing.

"I need you to say it Castle."

Castle. Not Rick. She was in detective mode. She was distancing herself from him, putting her walls back up, locking him out. She was pulling away and he couldn't stop her.

"After Montgomery's funeral, I got a phone call from a man, he said he was the Captain's friend and he had some documents that would ensure the Montgomery's safety as well as yours. He said he was going to keep you safe Kate! The only catch was that you had to stop looking, you had to stop digging into your mother's case."

He was losing her, he could see it in her eyes. They were unfocused, distant. She was getting ready to run. He was going to lose her again.

"I couldn't do that to you Kate, I know you need closure, you need it to be over, but there was no way I was losing you again. So I did it. I looked into it, I _have been_ looking into it. And I'm sorry Kate. So unbelievably sorry for going behind your back, for lying to you, for betraying your trust, but it was your _life_ and if I could go back in time, I would do it all over again, I would lie to you and keep it from you again because that was what it took to keep you safe."

He whispered the next part, just barely loud enough for her to hear him from across the room.

"You have every right to hate me. I wish you wouldn't, but I get it. But please don't walk away from us Kate, we can move past it, we can do it together, please. I'm so so sorry."

He had tears in his eyes. He hated himself for what he was putting her through. Not for doing it, but for what it was doing to her.

She remained exactly where she was, not even flinching when he finally flicked on the murder board standing in front of the desk.

She didn't say a word as her own picture flashed up on the screen, and all the arrows and lines branched off, connecting her picture to the dozens of others that littered the screen.

She didn't falter when she saw Roy Montgomery's face connected to hers by a thin red line.

She barely blinked when she saw Dick Coonan's mug shot among those connected with the blank square labelled 'Boss'

But her eyes filled with tears when they fell upon the face of Johanna Beckett. Her mom. _Her_ mom. Not his.

"Are you done?"

Her voice was still cold and unfeeling, unattached. She was doing her best to stay strong. She wouldn't break down, not there, not in front of him. She wouldn't show him how weak she truly was, how badly her mother's case affected her, how his confession affected her.

"Kate…" he nodded. He was done. He had more or less said everything he had to say.

She stood to leave, pulling his shirt tighter around herself, wrapping her arms around her middle, holding it together. Barely.

She walked through to the living room, picking up her pants off the floor, barely pausing as she pulled them on.

She took off his shirt quickly, dropping it on the floor and pulling her blouse over her head, hyper aware of his eyes still on her.

She put her gun and badge back into their respective spots and started towards the door, slipping into her shoes as she did.

That was when he stopped her.

"Kate please say something. Anything." He desperately needed to hear her voice, needed to know what she was thinking, feeling, what she was going to do.

She turned around when she got to the door, struggling to keep her voice even as she said

"Don't follow me Castle." She meant it. She was not kidding around. She did not secretly want him to come after her, she genuinely wanted sometime alone.

"Will you come back?" he choked on the words. He felt as if his whole world had just fallen into place just in time to come crumbling down around him. He needed her for once, and she needed him just as bad.

They needed each other but they were both too stubborn to admit it.

She knew she needed him. But not now, not when she was so raw and so vulnerable. She needed to think it through without his baby blue eyes watching her, she needed to be strong without him before she let herself be strong _with_ him.

The truth was, she couldn't lose him either. She needed to leave him now, but she would need him soon. She needed him to be there when she came back, so she replied with the one word she knew she could manage, the one word she knew he needed to hear.

"Always."

And then she was gone, closing the door behind her.

He stood there in the living room for another few minutes. Still unable to believe it.

He let out the breath he had consciously been holding¸ she was coming back, they were going to make it through, they were going to be ok.

There was going to be a 'They' after all.

* * *

><p><strong><em>SO there it is. Its okay to hate it. i understand. Please let me know how you think it could be improved, or if you are interested in another chapter or more than one or you're bored and want it finished there, completely up to you guys, i will keep writing if you want to keep reading thanks :) BC<em>**


	6. Chapter 6

**_So here is the next chapter:) for any of you reading my other story, Nightmares and Midnight snacks, i have not given up on it! i am just battling through the next chapter at the moment:) please let me know what you think of this chapter:)_**

**_**Huge thanks to Kimmiesjoy for proof reading this chapter and convincing me to update!:) and i do not own Castle_**

* * *

><p>She felt sick. More than sick actually. She should have known, should have seen it coming. She was a cop, a Detective, how had she not picked up that he was hiding something from her?<p>

She tried to identify her feelings, tried to work out exactly what was tying her stomach into knots, causing her to feel like she had been punched in the stomach.

Because it wasn't anger. No, she had been angry before. Angry at the world, for what it did to her, at Dick Coonan, for what he did to her mother, and at herself, for letting it all get to her. She had felt anger before, felt the rage well up inside her until it completely consumed her, felt her blood boil and seen her vision go red. She had felt anger. She knew anger.

But this wasn't anger, it was so much worse; It was fear, pure and unadulterated.

Last night had been amazing, mind-blowing, spectacular and incredible. It wasn't just the sex, it was everything. It was the way he had looked at her, with so much love in his eyes, so much admiration for her body. He looked at her like she was a goddess, like she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on, like she truly was extraordinary.

He had taken his time with her, exploring her body thoroughly with his mouth, his hands, his fingers. He had treated her with so much respect and care, putting her first, like he always did.

He had made her feel truly loved, something she had never felt before. He had held her close to him when they were both finally exhausted, and she had felt comfortable. She hadn't felt the need to roll away from him, to put some space between them before she fell asleep, quite the opposite in fact, she had held him tighter, secured his arms around her and snuggled closer into his embrace.

She had fallen asleep in his arms and she had never felt so at home, so loved, so content.

She had never been so happy.

So she was scared, terrified in fact, because now she knew what it felt like to be with him. Now she knew that it felt like to love him and be loved by him. Now she knew exactly how much she stood to lose, how much she could have lost.

He had been digging into her mother's case. Into her case. Into the conspiracy that surrounded both, and he had done it without her.

It was dangerous, so so dangerous. He was putting his life on the line, risking everything he had to bring her closure, to make her feel safe. But he had done the exact opposite.

Because now he was involved.

He had said it himself, everyone associated with her mom's case was dead. Everyone except her, and now him. And even that was conditional, their lives depended on some files that a shadowy man now had containing information that would bring her mother's killer down. She was alive on the condition that she did not investigate her mother's murder.

Nearly everyone associated with her mother's case was dead and now he was associated too.

That's what scared her. Because last night had been amazing, and because of the danger he was putting himself in, there was a chance that they would never get another night. Because sooner or later, the mysterious man was going to realise what Castle was doing and Kate was certain he would not hesitate to put a bullet through Rick's skull if there was a chance he could pose a threat to the man's blackmail scheme.

That was what had her stomach in knots, had her heart beating so hard against her ribs it was almost painful; the thought that she might lose him before she had even really let herself have him.

She was terrified because last night had confirmed what she already thought, she could not live without him. She needed him in her life or she would fall to pieces. She needed the stability he provided and the sense of normality he brought to her life. She needed someone who would love her the way he loved her, irrevocably and unconditionally. She needed him.

None of that was the reason she was currently at her apartment, alone and without him. If anything, she needed to be close to him now more than ever. She needed to know for sure that he was safe despite the danger he was putting himself in. She needed to be with him, needed his arms around her, needed the safety she felt in his presence. But she needed to do something more important.

Because he had done it for her. He had put himself in the crosshairs, in the line of fire, for her. She knew him, she knew how much it must have hurt him to lie to her, and keep things from her. She knew he must have hated not being able to tell her something so important. But he had done it for her.

He had unbalanced their partnership, taken too much upon himself and expected nothing in return. He had risked hurting her, and losing her, but done it anyway, because she needed it, she needed closure and he knew it. He had done it for her.

What he didn't know, was what she had done.

She knew him almost as well as she knew herself, she knew his strengths, his weaknesses, she knew what made him happy, what made him sad. She knew when he was ok and when he was just trying to be. And she had known that he wasn't ok after their case with the CIA.

She had seen the look on his face when his former muse told him that his father had connections in high places, just that she knew his father, she had seen the look on his face, she had seen the shock.

She knew him, she knew that while he laughed about his mother's promiscuous behaviour and the fact that she could not remember who his father was, deep down, she knew he probably wondered about it. It probably got to him more than he let on. She knew that while he looked as though he shook Sophia's comment about his father off, it had hurt him, it had confused him, it had made him want to know.

He did not have the legal resources she did as an NYPD officer. He did not have security clearance that high and he was not owed a favour by the right people. She had it all. She had the means to find his father for him.

So she had looked. She had looked for _him_, for Rick, she had done it for him. She was going to tell him, give him a name and an address as soon as she found out who his father was, she was going to come clean with him about all of it and about what she heard in the cemetery all those months ago. Then she had blown everything and nearly missed out on the chance.

Now she had to tell him. Tell him what she found, or rather what she didn't find. Because she hadn't found much, in fact she had found very very little, even with all her vast resources and calling in every favour she had, she had found no more than a picture. No known address, no drivers license, she hadn't even found a name. Just a photograph, just a face.

But she had tried, for him. She had tried.

That was why she was searching through her draws, why she was looking for the photograph, she had to show him that she tried, that she had thought about him, that she loved him.

He had put him self in danger, risked his own life as well as the livelihood of his family, all for her, always for her because he loved her. Now she had to show him that she had made an effort too, that she had tried to do something for him too. She hadn't risked much, she hadn't risked anything really, he was all she had left to lose, not counting her father, but she hoped he would see that she tried, that she cared, that she loved him.

She finally found the photo. She had hidden it under a pile of books in her bottom draw, just in case Rick came round for some strange reason and decided to go through her things and stumble upon a picture of an elderly gentleman who happened to vaguely resemble himself. It was just a precaution, one she was slightly annoyed to have taken as she had forgotten where she put it.

She gripped it tightly in her hand as she rushed for the door. She was still wearing yesterdays clothes, she didn't care. She couldn't stop now, not when she was alone, not when he wasn't there, she knew that if she paused for even a split second and let the weight of what he did hit her, she would fall, she would fall and possibly never get back up. So she kept moving, kept busy, because she needed to show him, needed to tell him, needed to be near him.

She slammed her front door shut, barely pausing to hear the lock click into place before she took off running, heading for the stairs rather than the elevator.

She didn't have her car. The keys were in her pocket, but the car itself was still sitting in his parking garage. She had been in no state to drive home and had hailed a cab instead.

Now she was regretting it. She needed the distraction, she needed something to focus on, something to think about. His building was about a ten minute drive from hers, she would not be able to handle ten minutes sitting alone in a silent taxi cab. Not now.

Before she could consciously think about it, she was running, her high heels hitting the pavement with a _clack_ on every step. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her breathing came harsh and fast, but she didn't care, she was moving, she was going towards him.

Her fists pumped up and down, catching slightly on her coat, which suddenly felt too heavy, too tight. She still had the picture clenched firmly in her hand, it was slightly crinkled but it would still be recognisable, it would still work.

She didn't even slow as she reached his building, tossing the doorman a hurried smile and a small wave.

She forewent the elevator again, it would probably be faster to run anyway and she was on a roll, her long strides had her flying, covering a lot of ground, she would be out of breath when she stopped, her chest would be tight, her bullet wound would pull and hurt, so she put it off, waiting until she was near enough that he would catch her, that he would look after her.

When she finally reached his door, she knocked three times, loudly, confidently, she couldn't hear properly over the rush of blood roaring in her ears.

He opened the door, a confused expression on his face, he glanced down at his watch and then back at her, as though not quite believing it _was_ her.

It had been less than an hour. She was back in his loft already, less than an hour after he told her something he felt sure would end them for good.

He ushered her into the loft and lead her over to the couch, he didn't say anything, he just waited, like always, he waited for her to get her breath back and her heart rate under control, she was shaking. He could tell just by looking at her that she had run all the way from her apartment. It must be important if she couldn't wait for a taxi or even the elevator.

So he waited for her to be ready, for her to speak, for her to make or break them.

But she didn't. When her breathing finally evened out and her body was noticeably more relaxed, she remained quiet, silently warring with herself, trying to decide if she was doing the right thing.

She finally spoke up.

"You shouldn't have done it."

Her voice was low, controlled, still a little breathless after her cross-country sprint.

"You shouldn't have done it alone, you should have told me the minute that guy called you." She stared deep into his eyes, needing him to understand the severity of the situation, the weight of his actions. She needed him to understand exactly how much harm he could have done himself.

"No more secrets now. We're in it together, no matter what. I've got your back and you've got mine, its all we need, all we've ever needed Castle. You're my partner and I need to be able to trust you ok? With everything. So no more secrets. No more lies. No more."

She kept her gaze locked on his, forest green meeting ocean blue. She could see the smile in his eyes, even though his face remained completely impassive. He understood; she was mad, but she forgave him, and she still loved him, that much hadn't changed.

He nodded, taking her hands in hers. Confusion flitted across his face at the picture she still held tightly in her fist. He looked at her with questioning eyes.

"I did some digging around after everything with Sophia," she spat the woman's name out with as much venom as she could muster, she hated her and what she almost did to Rick, what she almost did to Kate herself.

"She mentioned something about your father and I know you Rick, I know it bothered you a lot more than you let on, I know you would be curious, god knows you always are, so I did a bit of investigating of my own…"

She trailed off, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth, her eyes were soft as she looked at him, tender.

Rick schooled his features when he spoke

"What did you find?" his voice was neutral, controlled. Not upset or angry, but not overjoyed or even remotely pleased either.

"Not much,'' she admitted, pausing to choose her next words carefully, "I couldn't find a name or location, or even whether he was alive or not, but I found a picture, his picture.." she held the picture up in her hand, it was badly creased and facing away from him, hiding the man's face from Rick's eyes.

She held it out to him face down, letting him decide what to do, willing to follow his lead for a change.

Her hand hung in the air between them , both of them eyeing it, not sure what to do. He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, before reaching out for hers.

He gripped the hand that held the photo, gently tugging the paper out of her grasp before replacing it with his other hand and lacing their fingers together. He placed the photo face down on his leg and looked up at her again.

"You didn't have to do this. I was fine not knowing." He was being sincere, he was slightly in awe of what she had done for him, the boundaries she must have pushed to be able to obtain this one photo.

She smiled softly at him.

"I know, but you deserve to. You deserve closure too. And I wanted to." It was different, they knew it was. There was a difference between losing a parent and simply growing up without one, but she was right, he needed to know, he needed to put it behind him.

He took a breath and she squeezed his hand as he flipped the photo over.

She felt his pulse quicken against in his wrist against her palm, felt his hands, which had previously been pleasantly warm, go cold.

She snapped her eyes to his face and watched the colour slowly drain out of it, the light leave his eyes.

It scared her. So much.

"Rick! What's wrong? What is it?" She squeezed his hand harder, trying to get a reaction out of him, any reaction. His eyes flicked to hers and what she saw there scared her even more.

It was panic, and disbelief and a whole other range of emotions she couldn't name, she didn't want to name, she thought she saw anger.

"Rick please, talk to me, tell me what's going on!" Her voice had a panicked edge to it, something that was rare for her. She always held it together, always had everything under control. She never let her panic show through.

It snapped him out of it. He jumped off his seat on the couch and walked quickly towards his study, pulling her closely behind him. He left her standing in the middle of his small office as he flicked on the murder board.

She cringed slightly when her face popped up on screen, and he turned to put his arm around her, kissing her hair and whispering a quick apology.

Beyond that he had no words.

Using the remote, he scrolled down the screen, flicking through all the information pertaining to the case. Passing all the newspaper articles he had scanned in, all the pictures, all the writing, everything.

He scrolled down until he got to the very bottom, the very last name, the very last picture, a grainy image taken off his iphone.

Then she saw it, she understood his reaction, she understood his disbelief, but more than anything, she understood his rage.

She laced his arm around her and held him close, held him steady, held him up.

His breathing was shallow and she could feel his body begin to shake, she let go of the picture she still held in her hand, wrapping her arms around him, anchoring him to her.

The picture fluttered to the floor uselessly. They didn't need it. They didn't need a name, they didn't need an address and they most certainly didn't need a number.

It was staring them straight in the face.

Kate had spent months looking for Castle's dad unnecessarily. Because he had found them.

He had found Castle.

He had found Kate.

They stood together in his little office, clinging to each other, holding each other up, holding each other steady.

Neither knew what to say. Neither knew what to do.

They just stood there, together, their eyes flicking between the picture on the floor and the picture on the screen.

It didn't matter which one they looked at or for how long.

Because essentially they were the same. The pictures were the same.

The man on the murder board and the man in Kate's picture were one and the same man.

* * *

><p><strong><em>So there you have it. I hope it wasnt too predictable.. please please please review!:) also i am not sure where to take this story from here so if there is anything you want to see in upcoming chapters or any ideas, please let me know!:) BC:)<em>**


	7. Chapter 7

**_I am sorry for the wait, i dont know how long it has been since the last update, but i have been super busy. this chapter is long and very confused and i wrote it in just over an hour with no idea of where exactly it was headed but just needing to update, so this is what you get people!:) Please Leave a review and let me know what you think, and just hang in there, tomorrow is MONDAY!:) _**

****I dont own castle.

* * *

><p>He wondered how she did it. How she stood up and stayed strong every time the world came crashing down around her. He was amazed at how she was able to piece together the fragments of her life and keep going, keep strong, keep it together.<p>

He wondered how she did it, because he couldn't.

He didn't know how she had managed to pick herself up and get on with it, he couldn't grasp how she was able to carry on despite everything life had thrown at her. Her mom's death, Royce's death, Roy's death. Nearly freezing to death, nearly being shot to death, nearly drowning. How did she do it? How did she have the courage to keep going?

Because he sure as hell didn't.

He loved her with all his heart, every fibre of his being worshipped the very ground she walked on. He was a writer, but even he could not come up with the words that would accurately describe his feelings for her, he was fairly certain there weren't any. He valued her life even above his own, which he risked on a daily basis for her, always for her.

He did it to keep her safe. He wanted her to be safe, from the people who killed her mom, from the people who tried to kill her and anyone else he could think of.

But this was a twist even his clever writers brain hadn't come up with. Now he would have to keep her safe from his own father.

He hadn't bothered to deny it, even in his own mind. He couldn't if he tried.

Now that he looked hard and paid attention, he could see it, the resemblance.

Between himself and this man. This man who had caused more trouble than Rick had actually been aware of.

His face was the same. Rick spent at least ten minutes in front of the mirror every morning, working hard to perfect his hair. He wasn't vain, not in the slightest. But when walking around with the most beautiful creature on two legs, one had to look their best.

He knew his own face, the set of his jaw, the shape of his nose, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes. He knew what he looked like. And now he could see the similarities he held with Mr Smith.

Their foreheads had the same crease in the brow, Rick's was from puzzling over his writing, and worrying about the women in his life, which he doubted was the case for Mr Smith.

They also shared the same shape eyes, but while Rick knew his own were sapphire blue and usually had a hint of mischief in them, or love where his family are concerned, Smiths eyes held nothing of the sort. They were cold and calculating, Rick could tell those eyes had never looked lovingly on anything. Ever. And probably never would.

So he did not deny the possibility that this man, Mr Smith, could be his biological father.

He tightened his hold on Kate, gripping his arms firmly around her small frame. They were shaking, the weight of the moment pressing them down, forcing them to submit, accept that it was happening, that it _would_ happen, with or without them.

She held him just as hard, needing him, needing to feel his arms wrapped safely around her, needing to feel his heart beating strongly against her cheek.

He needed her too, needed her to be there for him for a change, needed her to be strong for him, like he had been for her so many times in the past.

She understood, she knew how he felt. She stood up for him, held him up when she didn't think he could do it himself. She knew what it felt like to have to be strong, she had done it so many times in her life, she had done it alone mostly because she had no other choice.

But when it counted most, when she really felt like she couldn't face the world any more, he had been there, he had been her rock, he had pulled her to her feet and given her the strength to carry on and he didn't even know it. He hadn't even meant to. But his presence in her life had done her wonders, had kept her going against all odds.

Now she was doing the same for him, holding him while he hurt, even though she was hurting too, because its something he would do, he would take care of her first and worry about himself later. She owed him this, she had to be strong for him.

Its what they do. They were strong for the other when they couldnt be strong for themselves. They balance each other out and it works. Its them. They hold each other together, they hold each other up. Always.

She isn't good with talking, she always follows his lead in these situations, she never knows what to say and this is no exception. So rather than run the risk of messing it up, of pushing him away, she doesn't. She stays silent. Waiting for him to be ready, its what he would do.

They stand like that for what seems like hours, until their legs are well and truly numb and the sun has noticeable moved in the sky.

She wanted to look at him, see his face, but she is scared of what she will see there. Will he be angry at her for forcing this upon him? For looking for his father, for actually finding him?

She is not fully aware of the relationship between Mr Smith and Castle, how often they talked, how much the older man revealed about himself to her partner, if anything at all. But she could tell from the way he was leaning on her, letting her hold him up, that it wasn't good, he wasn't ok.

Finally when she couldn't take the silence any longer, she turned her head, angling it so that she was looking up at the underside of his jaw. She pressed a kiss to his throat before whispering a quiet "Sorry" and burying her face in his neck.

They word seemed to jolt him back to life and he tightened his hold on her again, his grip just bordering on painful but she didn't care, she needed the closeness, they both did.

He couldn't stand any more. Literally, his legs were turned to jelly and his eyes were burning after staring at the illuminated screen for who knows how long.

He shuffled backwards, not loosening his hold on her at all. It took him two steps to reach the couch, then he collapsed onto it, pulling Kate onto his lap, cradling her like he used to Alexis after a bad dream.

He held her close, rocking her slightly, soothing her, for what though, she didn't know.

"I'm sorry. I am so incredibly sorry."

His voice was all choked up, emotions lacing his every word.

She didn't understand. What did he have to be sorry about? He had done nothing wrong, this one was on her. She had gone looking for his dad, she had found him, _she_ had done this to _him_. What did he have to be sorry for?

She didn't ask, there was a part of her that wasn't sure it wanted to know.

But he continued anyway.

"I wouldn't blame you if you left now. I'm so sorry Kate." His voice was low, dejected, resigned and he loosened his death grip on her, letting her breathe again, letting her move, letting her leave.

Now she had to speak up. Because there was no way in hell she was going to leave him. She couldn't. She was not physically capable of making herself leave his side, break the contact between their bodies. She needed him.

"What are you sorry for Rick? Why would I leave you?"

Her words were muffled slightly by his neck but he heard them. He pulled her back slightly so he could look her in the eye.

"He's involved Kate. This man, Mr Smith, my… whatever he is, he had something to do with your mom's case, with your case, he is hiding something and protecting someone and he is using me to get to you."

She watched the words leave his mouth, if she hadn't, there was no way she would have believed he had said them. His voice was completely defeated, he sounded old and weak, like he was in pain.

She couldn't take it, she couldn't stare into his eyes and see the hurt and the anger and the guilt, because he hadn't done anything wrong, she had to make him see that.

She twisted her body as far as she could manage, until her scar was pulled too tightly to go further and she was facing his straight on. She placed her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look her in the eye and pay attention.

"Rick, you haven't done anything wrong, and no one is using you to do anything. And.. and I cant leave you, I don't want to, and even if I did I'm not sure I would be able to. I love you so much, and I need you."

She looked away from him as she admitted her need for him. It was a big step for her, they both knew it. Kate Beckett was strong and independent, she didn't need anyone to hold her while she cried. But now she did, now she needed him, she needed to be strong for him and have him do the same for her.

He knew what it must have taken her to be able to admit that she needed him, he knew how hard she was really trying to make it work, he knew how much she really loved him.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, hot and needy.

It was her who deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue through his open lips, tracing the lines of his mouth.

It was different, new, better. She could taste him, _just _him. The overwhelming taste of Scotch that had tainted their first kiss was nowhere to be found, this was just him, and her, it was them.

She moved her hands to behind his head, her fingers tangling in the soft hair at the base of his neck. His arms stayed around her waist, but he pulled her closer, leaning back against the couch as she snuggled further into his embrace, her legs tangling with his, which remained firmly on the floor, grounding them, keeping them stable. Their lips never broke contact.

She could taste the distinct salty flavour of tears, his or hers, she didn't know.

She finally broke the kiss, keeping him close to her, their foreheads still touching, their breaths coming in short gasps.

There was so much he wanted to know; was Mr Smith actually his father? And if so, why had be been absent during Rick's childhood? And why had he decided to return now, why had he decided to contact Rick now and risk putting him in danger?

What Rick most desperately wanted to know was what part Mr Smith had played in the murder of Johanna Beckett, and more recently, the shooting of her daughter, his partner and love.

He wouldn't be able to live with himself if his father had somehow contributed to the event that essentially ruined a young Kate Beckett's life, and he very much doubted she would want anything to do with him either.

He though he had understood Kate's need for answers, he thought he'd known exactly how she felt, what drove her to investigate her mother's case, he thought he'd understood how she managed to lose herself in it.

But he hadn't. Not until that very moment.

But it wasn't all about him, Kate was having similar thoughts.

She too wanted to know what part Mr Smith played in the conspiracy that had overcome her life, she wanted answers from him and she wanted them _now_ dammit! But she was also afraid of what those answers might be, she wanted to know, but at the same time she didn't.

Because he would blame himself.

She knew Rick, she knew he would take it upon himself, if it turned out that his father, his direct relation, if only by blood, had a hand in her mother's murder, he would blame himself, he would hate himself, she knew he would.

She wanted so badly to know, finally _know_ who had made the call, who had set Dick Coonan on her mother, who had had her killed. But when and if she found out, she would need him there, she would need Rick. She would need his presence to anchor her, she would need his arms to wrap around her and hold her up, she knew she would need him to be there for her, there was no point in denying it.

If it turned out that the man they arrested, the man they finally put in cuffs and charged with the murder of Johanna Beckett and so many others, if that man turned out to be this Mr Smith character, if he turned out to be Rick's father, then he would need her, Rick would need her to be there for him just as much as she would him to be there for her, they would need each other.

But he would push her away. She knew him, he would blame himself and leave, not wanting to hurt her, not wanting to be a reminder of the man that ruined her life. It was what he did, he put her above himself, always, and she knew it.

Right now she hated it.

She was torn, between wanting to know and wanting to forget. This discovery didn't change a thing, they were still no closer to cracking the mystery.

But they were definitely closer to each other.

She shifted so that her face was nuzzled into his neck, her lips at his throat. Her thoughts buzzed around in her head, threatening to break free, trying to voice everything she was feeling. He always did this to her, he made her want to tell him things, things she didn't usually share. He made her want to open up, to him, only to him.

Usually she could control it, only share what she wanted him to know, but she was feeling vulnerable and far too comfotable in his embrace.

"This isn't your fault"

She blurted it out, squeezing her eyes shut as she realised she had really said it.

She could practically feel his confusion, so she continued, picking her words more carefully.

"Rick, whatever happens from now on, you aren't to blame. You are not the one doing this, you are just he one trying to fix it. And I will always love you no matter how this thing turns out, _always_."

She hoped she was reassuring him, hoped she had been right in assuming he would blame himself and that she had not just put that idea into his head.

He nodded against the top of her head.

"I love you Kate"

She pressed her lips to his throat, kissing him softly.

"But no more Rick, no more investigating. Especially not now, we just need to wait it out a little, cool off and think it through, we cant have you do something stupid now can we?"

He smiled, she was teasing him, it was familiar and easy, a welcome change to the unchartered territory they were currently blundering through.

Also, she said 'we'.

He knew she was right, that she was burning for answers just as much as he was, but that they needed to be careful, there was so much about the situation that they still didn't know.

The remote for the smart board was sitting on the couch next to him, he must have thrown it there at some point.

Still supporting Kate's back him his arm, he reached his other hand out and hit the power button on the remote, turning the screen black.

He didn't want to look at it anymore, the picture. He didn't want to think about conspiracy's and betrayals and lies and killers. He just wanted to sit there and hold the woman that he loved. He just wanted to keep her in his arms and be with her, for one moment, without the weight of the world hanging above them.

He felt her lean into him, trusting him to hold her and keep her safe, and he loved the feeling.

He held onto it as they sat in comfortable silence, he revelled in the bubble they seemed to have created where nothing and no one could break them apart.

He chose to enjoy the moment while it lasted, because he knew it would end. Sooner or later they were going to have to leave their bubble and return to the real world. They were going to have to deal with the consequences of what they had both done.

But it would be ok, because they weren't going it alone anymore, they were going to face the dragon together, because that's what they did.

They were going to crack the conspiracy, they were. But not now, not in this very moment. Right now they were just going to sit there, wrapped up in the comfort they could only give each other.

* * *

><p><strong><em>SO there it is. i dont know what to make of it and i am running on no sleep and plenty of red bull. I also leave for vac to Africa tomorrow and will be away for three weeks and unable to update, but i am not abandoning this fic, i have so much more in store, but please leave a review so i know how much interest is still out there!:) happy Castle monday in advance for tomorrow:) <em>**


	8. Chapter 8

**Right, so I just want to apologize firstly for how long it has taken me to get around to this, but I went to Africa and I got back a few days ago and madly typed up a couple of chapters for this fic and my other one, and then my laptop had a spaz and deleted all my work before I uploaded the docs to this site.**

** SO for that reason and the fact that nearly all the other fics being posted at the moment are about Beckett's secret and Castle's secret and similar such stuff, I'm putting this fic on hiatus until further notice, I will finish writing it and then be able to update much quicker. **

**Thank you for all the support on this one, and I promise to get back to it as soon as possible. I do have another fic currently in progress which I will be focusing on getting finished if anyone wants to check it out… **

**I apologize again and I promise I will get back to this one as soon as I can :) BoneyCastle237 xxxxx **


End file.
