84. 85: Sunday continued

85 (continued)

They say nothing on the way back.

They sit next to each other on the subway, hands intertwined, shoulders touching, but both of them sitting up straight. Kate doesn't lean into him, and he doesn't lean into her. Instead, he watches people, distracts himself with their imagined stories. That old woman with her shopping bag is going home to make dinner for her son and his girlfriend, whom she's about to meet for the first time; that tired-looking man with the briefcase is getting back to an empty apartment, won't see his kids until next weekend.

As long as he can spin tales, as long as he can absorb himself in these people's fantasy lives, Castle doesn't have to think about the look in Kate's eyes when he said you didn't call.

He doesn't have to think about how - how powerless he feels.

How he doesn't know what to do to fix them, fix any of it.

They're just so different.

That's a good thing, right? He's not dumb enough to deny that it's probably the first thing he was attracted to, how different she was, the beauty, the enigma that her mind presented him with. Of course she's gorgeous - and that was part of it - but it was always more than that.

It was always the spark between them, the way they compliment each other, the brilliance that their brains achieve together. They're such a team.

He never expected-

He never thought that their fundamental differences, the things that work so well for them at the precinct, would come between them in a romantic relationship.

Yeah. Stupid, Rick.

There's a gentle tug on his hand. "Castle, this is our stop," she says, and he gets up with her, follows her out of the car, impressed, as always, by the way people move away, make a path for her. Detective Beckett.

He stops her before they can get to the stairs, draws her aside to avoid being swept away by the human tide.

"Castle?"

Now that he's turned to her questioning face, he feels silly, of course, and maybe he should have just let them make their way up, kept silent. Except no, no, he has to say this, because even if he doesn't have all the answers, even if they're both hurt and are likely to hurt each other again, he does have this-

And these words can never be said enough.

"I do love you," he says, still holding her hand in his and knowing he sounds a little crazy, a little desperate. Doesn't matter. "Kate. I really, really love you."

She watches him with that soft look in her eyes, not the one when she's trying to figure out what the hell he means, but the one when she understands - when she knows his heart, and there's nothing else to be said.

He would do anything, anything to keep that look, that certainty in her.

She steps in close, lifting on tiptoe, two fingers at his chin, and she offers him a kiss, a delicate encounter of their mouths, hardly more than a simple press of her lips, a butterfly touch. But she's warm, and soft, and Kate; it's all he needs.

"We're going to be okay," she murmurs, her breath against his chin. And then, more determined, her eyes dark as they stare into his: "We will make it work."

He nods mutely, has to swallow against the emotion crowding his throat. A shadow of a smile passes on her face, lifts the corner of her mouth. She steps back, dragging him with her. "Come on, Castle."

And he does.

The moment they emerge from the subway station, the sky opens above them; all the water of the world comes pouring down. By the time they reach Castle's building, they're both thoroughly drenched, dripping all over. But at least they're laughing.

Castle does that thing where he attempts to shake his hair dry - it so totally makes him look like a dog, and it's completely ineffective too - and she cannot hold it in, the bright laughter that spills out, like a weight lifted off her chest.

And he feels it too; she can tell by the way he looks back at her, eyes crinkled, head tilted, not even pretending to be offended.

The laughter, the amusement - it's good. They need this. They need to be reminded of how good they can be together, how much fun they can have. Somehow it's too easy to forget, too easy to focus on the bad rather than the good.

And that's not right, not when there is so much, so much good.

She brushes her hand against his when they move off the elevator, sparks of electricity flying between them, and Castle sneaks a warm look over his shoulder, hooks his pinky around hers. Good.

He doesn't let go, uses his right hand to fish for the keys in his pocket, work the locks open. "Nobody else is here," he tells her, and the words let loose a stream of relief in Kate's chest. She doesn't want anyone to see her like this, the rain that's pooled over the dried sweat, the misery of her day alone written on her face.

He pulls her into the loft after him, asking her to close the door, and then leads them towards the laundry room. Water splashes on the hardwood floors as they traipse through the living-room, leave an easy trail for whoever might come looking.

Kate closes her eyes and lets Castle guide her, taking a long breath to calm her anxious mind. The place smells like him, deodorant and the scent of his skin, and it suddenly hits her, how much she's missed this, how right it feels.

A whole day at her place, missing him, and now his scent is just-

home?

She exhales shakily; she's spent the day struggling against tears.

And while his loft smells like him, the laundry room - the laundry room is almost too much. The detergent he uses... She's never asked what it is, but the fragrance is all over his clothes, his sheets, all over him, and all she wants to do now is rest against the wall, stay there, be wrapped in it.

"Kate?"

Her eyes open, encounter the wide expanse of his bare chest. Oh. Nice.

"You okay?" he asks, and she realizes she's been standing there, motionless, while he stripped out of his wet clothes. Kept the underwear on though, thank goodness. They need to talk. Another rain-soaked encounter, but this time, she's making a point to talk about it first.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she says, shaking her head slowly. "Just-"

His eyes are so blue, a hint of concern in them, and she smiles, her hesitation swept away by the need to give him this, like a gift. She steps closer. "It smells like you," she murmurs, resting a light hand on his chest, tracing the curve of his collarbone with a finger, his skin warm beneath the wet rain. "In here. It smells like you."

He watches her, doesn't say anything, hesitant understanding on the lines of his face.

She bites her lip, has to let the words out before she can think better of it. "And I missed it," she admits softly, her thumb at the hollow of his throat.

His hand comes up to cover hers, warm and sure, and he bends to get at her mouth, a kiss that's both gentle and deep, so much confidence in the slow touch of his tongue. Their lips part soundlessly, foreheads lingering close for a moment more, before Castle clears his throat.

"You've got clothes here, right?"

She nods, feels her mouth curl in a smirk. He knows she does.

"Want me to go get you some, while you put all your damp stuff in the dryer?"

Good idea. "Sure," she says, eyeing him as he goes, the swell of muscle in his arms, the strong line of his back, dimples just above the waistband of his boxers.

"And, Castle?" she calls.

He turns back to her, that familiar arch to his eyebrow.

"Find me some underwear as well."

It's evil, she knows, but the flush of arousal on his face is oh, so worth it.

Gives her the confidence to do this right.

"So."

"So."

They're both in his study, fully clothed, since she's not going to indulge in sex until they've talked. Castle must feel the same; he turned away back in the laundry room, wouldn't so much as glance at her naked skin. It was...kinda sweet, actually.

Kate is perched against the back of his armchair, and Castle is leaning against his desk, the furniture separating them; she quickly understands that they both expect the other to go first. Awesome. How more awkward can they get?

She pushes a hand through her hair, snarling the still-wet curls with her fingers, and thinks of their conversation at the swings, of the things half-said. "We don't have the same idea of what gets shared," she says, her voice careful.

Castle's shoulders sag with the exhale he lets out. "Yeah, that."

"I think-" she starts, right when he says, "I just-"

Their eyes meet, and he chuckles, the amusement in his eyes mirrored in her own smile. At least they're on the same page, right?

They're both willing to put in the work.

"You first," he says, wriggling his eyebrows in invitation.

She takes a deep breath. Words, Kate. Use your words. What gets shared.

"The thing is, Castle," she starts slowly. "It's not...natural, for me, to share things. You know that. I've directed my own life for so long now, and there was never anyone to inform. And I'm trying, I really am, but I-" Oh god, how does she say this?

"I don't want you to be my whole life," she says, pulling her lip between her teeth, risking a glance at him. Yup, the hurt is there, flashing in his blue eyes. But what can she do? She owes him the truth. "And it's not because I don't love you," she adds, staring at him and leaning forward, hoping he'll understand. "It's because I'm - still trying to be more than... Because I can't depend completely on just one person. It's not - it's not healthy, Castle. If you're my life, if you're what I live for, and something happens to us, to you?"

He's silent, his eyes intent on her.

She needs him to understand. "What do I do then? How can I - keep on living without you, if you're my whole life, Rick?"

And here come the tears again, but she's stronger this time. She blinks them away.

"Kate." His voice is quiet, shocked, and suddenly he's at her side, kneeling on the armchair to get to her, her hand in both of his. "Kate."

"And I don't want it for you either, Castle. You have Alexis and Martha, and if - if something should happen to me - I need to know that you'd pull through, that you'd keep writing, that you'd keep-"

Her voice breaks; she clenches her teeth. This isn't what she meant to talk about, really.

"Beckett." The use of her last name jerks her, helps her find her breath. "You can't live like that. You can't live your life thinking of what might happen, of what terrible things might befall you. Because if you do that, then - you'll stay holed up in your apartment, alone and paralyzed forever-"

"It's not what I'm doing," she protests, winces at the rasp that comes out of her mouth. "Castle, you know it's not what I'm doing. This isn't about my mother's murder-"

"The hell it's not," he interrupts.

"Yeah, well, okay, maybe it's tied up with it, but it's because I've spent my adult life living for her, and then trying to save my father's life when it's not my responsibility to save anyone, and I've just figured that out - I finally got it, how not to do that to myself."

His hands clench around hers, mouth opening, but she rushes on.

"Castle. It's not just that. It's - about balance. Balance in my life. Don't you want to be your own person, independent from me? And don't-" she puts a finger against his opening mouth "-don't answer with some romantic, Hallmark-card crap, Castle. Think about it. All that flowery, over the top stuff is fine and good, but it's not healthy. No one can be someone else's everything. No one should have to take on the responsibility of someone else's life. You're not my savior, Castle. And I'm not yours."

His lips curve into a smile under her hand and her heart flutters, like it always does at the warm regard of his eyes, bright and twinkling.

"What," she says, knocked off course by that look, if she ever really had a course.

He gently takes her finger from his mouth, puts it back in her lap. That annoying, superior little smirk is still playing on his face.

She braces herself.

"So basically, you want me to tell you you're not my everything," he says, that laughing hum to his voice.

Ugh. Trust Castle to-

"Fine," he shrugs, perfectly nonchalant as he gets up from the armchair, puts some distance between them. "You're not my everything, Kate. You're right. I had a life before you - my daughter, my mother, the mystery writers' crew. Telling a worthwhile story. The books. The parties. Okay, it could get a little shallow, but-"

"Castle," she cuts in, but he waves her off.

"No, I get it. I get that we're two separate human beings, Kate. I know I get a little carried away sometimes, and that's your fault for being so damn extraordinary, but... I don't need you so that I can exist, don't need you to save me," he says, his eyes serious now. "I don't need you so that I can be me, Kate. I need you as inspiration, as my muse-" Here she gets another goofy see what I did there grin. "-as the inspiration to be a better me..."

She bites on her lip, can't help the smile anymore than the eye-roll.

"But I want you in my life," he insists, eyes burning into hers. "My life is better with you in it, Kate. Yes, it can go on without you. It'd take some time, it would - do some damage. But I hope it doesn't have to."

She presses her lips together, tries to figure out what to say to that, how to...get the whole conversation back on track. He's hijacked their talk-

And apparently he just can't stop. "Of course," he goes on with a sigh and a somewhat repentant look, "wanting you in my life means that - I want to know what happens to you, Kate. And your job - your job is such a big part of who you are."

Not anymore, she almost says, but that might be true. "A job interview is hardly a job, Castle," she observes instead. "And I would have told you if it had been. Plus - I thought when I told you I was going to have to do something real, pick a direction and be active about it - that was sharing, that was what I meant."

He watches her for a handful of seconds, nods slowly. "Okay," he says, lips quirking into an almost smile. "Not gonna lie, I would've still liked to know about the interview, the specifics of picking a direction, but I can..."

"Do you know how long it's been?" she lifts her eyebrows as she asks. "Since the last time I went on a job interview, Castle?"

Awareness crosses his face.

"Yeah. A good long while. So I was nervous, and I kept it to myself, because sharing - it doesn't help, Castle. Not with me. It just makes me dwell on it. And I couldn't handle you getting all... excited. And. I still don't see what the big deal is," she admits quietly.

He opens his mouth, closes it. Sighs. "Okay. Okay. I can see that. I just..." He hesitates, comes close again, settling against the arm of the chair. "I want you to feel like you can tell me things, Kate. And when you fear my reaction won't be appropriate, you can just...tell me. Seriously. Tell me, Castle, I'm telling you this, keep your feelings to yourself, I can't deal with them right now."

Laughter tumbles out of her lips, and Kate rubs a finger to her forehead, can actually picture the scene.

"Honestly," he insists. "It might sting for a second, but I'll get over it. And I'd rather know, Kate. When it's important stuff like your job, I don't want to be left out."

Okay. Okay. She gives a single, slow nod, lets her fingers wrap around his neck. Her thumb brushes over his earlobe, and his eyes flutter shut for the briefest moment, open again, pools of serene blue.

"I'll try that," she says firmly, a promise. "But Castle, you also have to remember. When I don't tell you things, it's not because I'm trying to hurt you. It's because - well, either I think I have told you, or I don't think it's that interesting."

He smiles at her, so joyful it makes her heart stutter. And then he leans towards her, puts his mouth to her ear. "But everything about you is interesting, Kate Beckett."

She hooks two fingers in the collar of his shirt, brings him close, mouths almost touching.

"You know that's ridiculous, so don't hold your breath, Castle."

"I'd suffocate?" he murmurs, a smirk in his voice, his lips brushing hers.

"Nope. You'd pass out first. Start breathing again."

"Then there's nothing to worry about."

She sighs, but captures his mouth, his unrelenting optimism, and hopes that's true. Let it be true.

We can make it true.

There's nothing to worry about.