All Beckett wanted was to talk to him.

She'd done everything else. Everything that was expected of her, of someone who'd gone through what she had. Lots of hot showers. Showers, not baths. Lots of hot liquids. She'd never had so much soup or tea in her life. She wore warm clothes, bundled up under mountains of furs and blankets. Shared long, sweet kisses with the love of her life…

But now she wanted to talk. It shocked her. Kate Beckett had never been a talker. Why talk when you could do, show? Talking so often led to misinterpretation, especially when she couldn't find the right words to say. But now she wanted to try.

What she'd been through as Elena Markov was unlike any other ordeal she'd undergone in her time as a cop. She'd been undercover, she'd been interrogated but this… and by Vulcan Simmons of all people… This was different. Personal connection with her torturer aside, the water itself had hurt like nothing she could have imagined. The way it slid down her throat, a smooth gliding fire on its scorching path to her lungs, filling them up with its liquid inferno.

Water.

Alongside air, the most basic thing a human body needs. How easily it was turned against her. Her entire body aching, screaming, crying as that air was blocked, lost amongst the icy slush that slowly froze her chest. Icy tendrils creeping their way along her veins and spreading through her limbs until every crevasse in her body housed the biting chill. She'd been paralyzed. Unable to draw breath, clench a hand, speak to save her life. She'd been blind, her eyes seeking sound but not seeing through the hazy burn and shrieking pain pounding in her skull. Never before had she been so completely at someone's mercy, so completely out of control. It had been the most terrifying moment of her life. When she'd been shot it was quick. When she'd been dangling from a building she'd still been able to try to hold on. But in that damp, dank basement she'd been utterly helpless.

So she'd thought of Castle. Of his physical presence, the charming smile, shining blue eyes and strong arms that wrapped around her and kept her safe. Of who he was inside, the humour and creativity, the loyalty and passion. Of who he was going to be. Her husband. The father of her children. It had kept a single, tiny flame burning in her cold heart.

She'd accepted the command of a few days rest without complaint or protest. When she'd finally gotten home to the loft what felt like days after she'd been rescued from the forest he had lain with her and she thought she'd felt a slight thaw. Then she'd woken in the night shaking and choking and drowning. He'd covered her mouth with his and breathed hot, pure air into her. She slept till morning, when the rawness of her throat and still pounding head made her want to curl up in a ball and wail. He'd let her curl up but he'd curled her into him. She'd slowly unfurled and he'd asked her what she wanted, needed, what could he do, anything… She'd wanted him. He'd stayed with her for hours and when they lay together afterwards, skin to skin, she thought she might be capable of warmth once more.

Yes, she'd done everything that was expected. But she was still cold. And she wanted to talk.

The detective took a steady breath. She didn't know how he would take this, if he could take this, but there was nothing else she could do. This was the final thing she needed and she hated to be selfish but she had to be. She needed him.

The door opened slowly, he knew she was there.

Kate gave him a shaky smile.

"Hey, Kevin."

He blinked at her before sighing and opening the door the rest of the way.

"Who is it, honey?" called Jenny.

"It's Kate."

The short blonde walked around the corner wiping her hands on a towel. The grave look on her face clashed against the cheeriness of her light pink sweater. She didn't say anything, just walked up to the detective and wrapped her arms around her. Kate's eyes went wide, searching out Ryan as if to ask for help. The look on his face, however, calmed her. Warmth, pride, hope. Kate closed her eyes and tentatively wrapped her arms around her. When the shorter woman finally pulled away Kate actually found herself disappointed.

"I think I'll head out on some errands," announced Jenny.

"Oh, no, Jenny," Kate weakly protested. "I didn't mean to interrupt, you don't have to go…"

"No it's fine, I was just going out anyways," she reassured.

Beckett knew she was lying but couldn't help the gratitude leaking from her eyes. Kevin's wife quickly gathered a purse, coat and shoes, exiting with a final smile for Kate, who finally fully entered the apartment and glanced around. The home had always been stylish yet warm, comforting, welcoming. It was clear they'd tried to keep it clean but baby toys could still be seen peeking out behind chairs and under tables. It made the place better, in her opinion. Even more beautiful. A different kind of flutter invaded her heart and forced her to close her eyes. That was the last thing she needed to think about right now.

"Can I get you anything?"

She looked at her partner, friend.

"No, thanks," she said quietly.

He nodded and led her to the couch where they sat in semi-awkward silence for a few minutes.

"Look, Kevin, if you don't want to…"

"No, Kate. Please. I probably should have talked about it years ago."

She looked at him again, really looked. "But there was no one you could talk to?" she offered quietly. "No one who could possibly understand. Not even Javi who was right there with you."

He swallowed heavily and nodded, looking guilty.

"We still should have helped you more," she said, her own guilt seeping through. "Castle and I busted in and everything happened so fast, then the cavalry came, and the paramedics and you said you were fine and we all just accepted it. Slight hypothermia and wounded pride. We should have known it could never be that easy, that simple."

"No, Beckett, please don't blame yourself!" he said fervently. "You had no reason to know or believe that I wasn't telling the whole truth. I'm a cop, I'm trained to deal. So I did."

"Did you have nightmares?"

He averted his gaze.

"How long did it take you to feel warm again?"

He stayed silent.

"Did you let Jenny help?"

He looked up at that and gave a slight nod. "A bit. But I couldn't burden her with it, you know? She doesn't need that in her head."

"Yeah," Kate breathed. Castle had been so earnest in wanting to help her, so guilt-ridden for not having found her sooner. And while he truly had helped her while she was a captive and had done everything he could after the fact, there were some things she never wanted on his beautiful, caring conscience.

"I'm sorry, Kate."

She frowned at him.

"I'm talking about what I went through, how I felt but you… you had it so much worse than me…"

She shook her head. "Please, don't…"

"The water never made it to my lungs. They talked about it, how it would burn, how I would beg for them to kill me but it never went that far. I can't imagine…"

"Ryan stop."

His mouth clamped shut.

She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrated on slowing her suddenly racing heart, the bile that wanted to force its way up her scream shredded throat.

"It still happened to you," she finally said. "You're still the only person I know who knows what it's like. To be on your knees feeling the cold concrete seep into your joints. To have someone's hand around your neck, pushing you down into the ice. You fight, you resist, you force your body to twist in ways it shouldn't to try to get away, get out, but you can't. They have you and you can't do a single goddamn thing about it." Her words ends in a hiss and they're both shaking.

She raises a palm to her forehead, sucking in a breath as her head pulses. She shouldn't have come. It was too soon, she wasn't ready. She still hadn't really processed everything, had instead willingly surrendered herself to the bubble of Castle's comforting, soft loft.

It was too much.

She'd been kidding herself. She couldn't talk about this. Not yet.

"I'm sorry," her voice rose an octave, choking on the word. "I thought I was ready, but…"

She abruptly stood and started towards the door.

"No, Kate…" he called.

She reached out for the door handle, not looking and hitting her hand against the hard plank instead. She gasped in pain, every bone and joint in her body still brittle.

"Kate!"

He was right behind her. Her vision started to grey, her mouth suddenly dry. He grabbed her arm and she froze, her feet tripping after him against their will as he led her back to the couch. He pushed her down and she dropped. Her lungs seized as she waited for him to speak, placate, pity. But he didn't. He didn't say a word.

He just wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She was a block of ice, unmoving, unwilling. But then she wasn't. Then she was just a woman who'd been through something terrible but had a friend who mostly understood. A friend who would be there for her whether she was ready or not.

And she was warm again.

The End.