Chapter Eighteen

"Tell me your story." Kate looked up from the fingernails she'd been studying intently. Her therapist, a sharply-dressed woman (Dr. Megan Carr, as she'd introduced herself with a firm handshake), was staring at her.

"What story?" Beckett feigned, casting her eyes to the right ever so slightly. "The story of my life?" She realized she sounded a bit petty, but the truth was, even though she'd consented to seeing a counselor, she wasn't completely enamored with the idea of sharing her life with someone she had just met.

"Well...if you want." Dr. Carr's face softened considerably. "It might be best if I got to know you as a person before we dive into anything sensitive."

"Why would you care?" Kate rolled her eyes, not bothered by the fact that her tone was reminiscent of a pouting toddler.

"If I'm going to help you, I need to learn what you respond to. What your past was like. What your present is. It's the only way you'll be able to make progress in here."

"My partner helped me realize I should get help," Beckett blurted out. Dr. Carr nodded and jotted something down on her clipboard. "He's the best thing about my life right now."

"Is he a work partner or-"

"Work. And life." It was perhaps the best description of their relationship she'd ever thought of.

"Well, I think he cares very deeply for you if he encouraged you to seek help. It says a lot that he didn't sit back and let you work through it alone."

"I care for him too." Love, Kate. You love him.

But she didn't want the first person to find this out to be a stranger. She wanted it to be Castle.

"So you are in a healthy relationship. That's good. Is there anything else you want to tell me today?"

"I don't want to talk about what happened." Kate bit her lip, tasting the tiniest drop of blood as it fell into her mouth. "I'm not ready. And I don't know when I will be."

"I don't expect you to be ready. I do know what was in the news and whatnot so your story is not completely unfamiliar to me. But an important step in the recovery process is for you to share...when the time is best for you. When you feel safe."

What if I never feel safe? Beckett caught herself wondering. Tyson and the Master may be dead, but my memories and scars are very much alive.

Instead, she said, "I hate Christmas."

And that was how she was able to talk about her mother.

Much later, the detective and the writer were able to enjoy a meal together without the awkwardness that had been staunchly present in the days prior to that fateful night when she found the answer at the swings.

"Are you feeling any better today?" Castle asked gently. He'd been attending tedious meetings with his publisher all day and had not been able to go with his partner to the therapist's office. There was a part of him that was not going to allow forgiveness for that neglect, even though Beckett had been more than understanding.

"One appointment isn't going to cure me. You know that, right?" Her hazel eyes pierced right through him. "If I learned anything from the last time I saw someone, it's that this will take a long time." Maybe forever, she added to herself.

"No, I know that. Don't ever think I'm rushing you into feeling something you don't. But I mean 'feeling better' in general. You aren't needing as many pain relief pills are you?"

"No, I'm on less medication. It doesn't hurt as much." She didn't specify where she was healing. The truth simply clung to her words, making Castle's heart lurch in his chest. For perhaps the millionth time, he wished he could take her pain upon himself, just so she didn't have to suffer.

"Good," he murmured, even though he wanted to vomit. "That's good."

"Did I tell you my therapist was a woman?" Beckett asked suddenly. "Burke was available but...well...because of my situation-" But Castle held up a hand to stop her.

"I understand," he whispered. And then, to his immense surprise, Kate reached up and threaded her fingers within his.

"I know you do," she sighed wearily. "I know." He squeezed her hand.

She squeezed back.

But that night, Castle was awoken by screams. He bolted up, searching in his sleep-heavy state for the origin of the abrupt sound. His eyes fell upon his beautiful partner, who was tossing and turning. Even in the dim light, he could tell that she was sweating. Her eyes were closed but she continued to whimper and cry.

"Kate, wake up!" he urged her, touching her shoulder tenderly. That was a mistake. Beckett's screams grew more intense, more frightened. She scratched and clawed at the bed, as though she was fending off an invisible attacker.

Tyson. Doran. They may be dead in our waking hours but they live in her dreams.

"Castle, help!" Kate cried out, tears coursing down her face. "Please, Castle, he's hurting me!" He felt his whole body start to shake. Did she call out for me like this, scared and crying, as he gave her those scars? Had her last thoughts before she lost consciousness in the hole been that I was too late to save her?

"Shh, Kate, I'm right here," he soothed. "Come on, wake up. I promise you this isn't real, sweetheart, I promise. Just wake up. I'm right here. You're safe now."

"No! Please, stop hurting me!" God, now he was crying too.

"I love you, Kate. You hear me? It's safe here. You're safe and I love you." Kate suddenly stopped screaming. Did she hear me? Either way, he felt incredible relief that her suffering was ending. He laid back down in bed. Almost immediately, she curled up next to him and rested her head on his chest.

"Castle," she murmured, voice slick with sleep.

"Yeah," he answered. "I'm here."

And he swore he felt the faintest hint of a smile against his chest.