AN: Set during/after 2x13 Sucker Punch. I haven't written in forever so I'm hoping this isn't a terrible re-introduction into the Castle ff world. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

burn with me tonight

Red.

Everything is red.

It coats her hands, dark and sticky, endless pools that gather beneath her.

Everything inside her is screaming that this can't be happening, it can't be real. She's too close to what she's been searching for. Answers to a decade of questions she's built in her head.

She's got to stop this flood. Somebody's got to make it stop. Because this may be her only shot.

It was her shot. She took it.

And now it's gone. He's too far gone.

The man in front of her is dying and she's drowning in a sea of red.

She's not sure how she makes it to the locker room. She has no recollection of the walk there or how she came to stand at the sink, water running over her hands. Her mind is in a haze, a relentless blur of noise and chaos and so much blood.

The gunshot still rings in her ears as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. The water turns from red to pink to clear again, washing away the evidence of what she's done. As if anything can wash it away.

She killed Dick Coonan. The man who murdered her mother.

But there's no triumph in that. Only pain and emptiness. Always emptiness.

Sometimes she wonders if she'll ever be whole again or if this darkness she's been living in for so long is her reality now. An inevitability she needs to accept.

She's not sure she'd even recognize the light if she found it again.

Her hands will never be clean.

She takes fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes of willing herself not to collapse in front of that mirror before she slips back into the mask of control, returns to her desk wearing the change of clothing she keeps as a backup just in case.

In case of days like today.

It's not the first time she's killed someone. It more than likely won't be the last.

She takes deep breaths; lets it calm her still too fast heartbeat; counts to ten over and over until she stops shaking.

She did what she had to do. She knows that unequivocally. And no matter the cost, she'd do it again.

Because the life she took, saved someone else.

It wasn't even a choice.

It was the only choice.

She doesn't let him leave.

Not when he shows up with four different types of food and a look so remorseful it almost breaks her again.

They eat in relative silence after she admits wanting him to stick around. He's still being cautious, still carrying a weight he shouldn't have to bear, but his smile is warm.

She knows she's surprised him. That the last thing he expected was for her to ask him to stay. A year ago she'd never have believed it herself. Tonight, she can't think of anyone she'd rather be with.

The truth of the matter is, he's the only thing that has kept her together through this case. It's not the first time she's had that realization over the past few days but now it burns even stronger. How quickly she could have lost even more, how it just as easily could have been Castle bleeding out in front of her.

How even the thought of losing him destroys her.

Before she knows it her throat is dry and her eyes are clouding for the second time that day.

And he notices. Of course he notices.

"Kate." His reaches his hand out, covers her wrist. She flinches involuntarily, squeezes her eyes shut, tries desperately to pull herself together again.

"Kate," he repeats, and she feels him moving closer until he's wrapping an arm around her body, pulling her against his chest. "You don't always have to be so strong."

The words are a whisper, only for her to hear.

She wishes she could believe them.

It's late when they pack up and she's exhausted but the idea of going home to an empty apartment is almost unbearable.

He must sense it. Either that or he's equally opposed to facing this nightmare of a day alone with his thoughts.

Regardless of the reason, she's grateful when he suggests they get a drink somewhere. He stands and holds out her coat, fingers brushing her shoulders as she slips her arms into it. She can't help but notice that he keeps his hand lightly resting against her lower back as they exit the precinct.

Normally, she'd brush him off, make some quip about keeping his hands to himself. Right now, she's afraid if he lets go she'll only fall apart again.

They stop a bar about halfway to her place. It's dark, a little hazy with wisps of lingering smoke from a group of men in leather jackets they passed on the way inside. It reminds her of senior year of high school, sneaking out with Maddy to meet boys whose names she can't even remember now. It feels like an eternity ago, those nights she felt so alive, so free.

So incredibly different from the life she leads now.

She makes her way to a round booth at the back of the place while Castle stops at the bar. He surprises her by setting a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses on the table before settling into the seat.

She raises an eyebrow at him and he shrugs.

"I used to write here a lot. The owner's a nice guy. Always took good care of me."

"Is there anyone in the city, you don't know, Castle?"

"World famous, best selling novelist, remember?"

"How could I ever forget?"

She watches as he pours them each a shot.

"No tequila, huh?"

"Come on, Beckett, even I'm not that cliché. Besides," he adds, his eyes darkening slightly, "it didn't really feel like a tequila kind of night."

She bites her lip and nods, hesitating only a moment before downing the shot.

The liquid burns down her throat and she closes her eyes for a second, leans back against the booth, and relishes the feeling. When she opens her eyes again, he's looking at her. There's a depth in his gaze that makes her face flush and her pulse start to race. It's both scary and exhilarating and before she can think about it too much she grabs the bottle and pours another shot for them both.

He made the right choice. Definitely not a tequila night.

The finish half the bottle over the next hour while he tells her stories from his college days. He doesn't press her to talk about anything. Instead, he makes her laugh by describing the night he almost got expelled for breaking into the campus cafeteria on a dare. He tells her about his disastrous first date with Kira, talks about how he first came up with the idea for Derrick Storm, and how many half written novels he trashed before he ever got published.

Being with him somehow calms her, eases a little of the ache she carries inside and once again, she can't help but think of how grateful she is that he's here. That even after all they've been through, he keeps coming back.

They stay for another half hour, until she's practically falling asleep on his shoulder, the week and the alcohol and the soothing lull of his voice all working in unison against her.

He nudges her shoulder. "Let me take you home."

The night air is cool against her skin. He offers to get a cab but she insists they walk. She's just on the right side of tipsy, where everything feels a little heightened, a little more electric. She wants to soak it in while it lasts, before she's drowning again.

There hands brush every couple of steps and in that moment she wishes she was braver. She wishes he was too.

But she's not brave. She's broken.

And he deserves so much more.

It's the first time she's ever had that thought and it almost stops her in her tracks. Because sure, she's been attracted to him since the very first night they met. Probably longer than that if she counts the number of nights she spent fantasizing over his book jackets. But this thought – this realization that maybe all this time it's been her that doesn't deserve him instead of the other way around – it changes everything.

She's spent all this time trying to push him away, denying the idea that she might actually care about him. She's told herself that he's just a cocky, womanizing, jackass. But he's not. He's the man who risked his life for her, the man who's stayed despite her screwed up life, her brash defenses. He's the man who laid down more money than she makes in an entire year, just for a shot at catching her mother's killer. And today she almost lost him.

She almost lost him.

By the time they arrive at her apartment, she's made up her mind.

She's not going to lose him.

She might not deserve him, but after today, she's done denying that she needs him in her life.

He looks at her curiously when they reach her door and she makes no move to go inside. It's perhaps the most quiet he's ever been, as he seems to be waiting her out. It unnerves her a bit, throws off their usual balance but she's determined. Before she can lose her nerve she steps in, wraps her arms around him, and rests her head against the curve of his neck. "Thank you, Castle, for everything."

He immediately secures his arms around her, pulling her closer against him. For a moment he just holds her there and she takes the opportunity to soak it all in - the feel of body enveloping hers, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the woodsy scent of his cologne. He feels good. He feels like home.

When he finally pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes, he says, "I know I offered to quit shadowing you tonight, but I just want to be clear about something. That doesn't mean I could walk away from you, Kate." He reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and she closes her eyes at the sensation of his fingers brushing across her cheek. "I don't think I could, even if I tried."

"I'm not any good at this, Castle," she sighs.

He opens his mouth to speak again but she silences him with a finger to his lips.

"But…I want to be. Help me try?"

"Yes," he breathes the words against her skin. "Yes," he repeats as he finally lowers his mouth to hers. It's slow and sweet and devastatingly gentle. It's everything she would have never expected a first kiss between them to be like.

It's perfect.

And she thinks that maybe this is what it's like to truly live again.