A/N: This idea has been sitting on my hard drive for a while. I thought I'd share it and see if it's just my crazy brain or if it actually has some validity.

The story is set during "Rise", immediately following the swing scene. It's based on the premise that having not seen Castle for three months, Kate might have been more affected by that meeting than she appeared to be on the show. I'm assuming a couple of things. Firstly, she went to see Castle with the same plan and motivation as she exhibited in "Rise", only the after-effects of reconnecting with her partner were a whole lot more powerful than she expected. Secondly, for the purposes of this story, I've decided that she has already confessed to Dr. Burke that she heard Castle's proclamation of love in the cemetery and she's already experienced a few symptoms of PTSD.

Here goes...

Chapter 1: Startling Recognition

They part ways at the curb on the far side of the small city park, the swings still oscillating side-by-side in the distance like a pair of Siamese twins; she heading up to Midtown for a session with Dr. Burke, and he heading back to SoHo with the promise of another lonely evening on the sofa in front of the flickering companion that is his TV.

"So…uh…it was good to see you," she says, biting her lip, gaze skating nervously from his eyes to his lips before dropping to the floor.

She means every word, but the moment feels awkward. More awkward than turning up unannounced at his book signing had felt a couple of hours ago, with just the bleached skeleton of a plan to keep her company while she stood in line. So what to do now? Offer him her hand to shake, reach out and give him a friendly hug, kiss him on the cheek, or—

Castle makes the decision for her. A quick flash of a smile – eyes slightly less angry, the lines on his face minutely softened, maybe a shade less haunted than when she arrived – and then he's making for the subway on the corner of East 23rd and Broadway; determined, serious and far too grown-up for her liking.

Kate stands there on the sidewalk with foot traffic flowing all around her – an island in a sea of eight million people – watching as Castle descends the steep staircase into the earthy darkness of the subway station. She counts the seconds, waiting, holding her ground and her nerve just to see if he will turn around at the last minute, throw a little glance over his shoulder to seek her out, before the ground literally swallows him up.

She waits, but he doesn't turn round. Not once.

The tugging sensation persists in her chest all the way uptown. It's so strong, so real, that it has her worried that she's done some kind of damage to her scar; something unwitting but dangerous of which she has no recollection.

When she arrives at Dr. Burke's office, she checks in with the receptionist and then immediately excuses herself to visit the shared bathroom down the hall from her doctor's small suite of offices. Once inside she shrugs off her leather jacket, hanging it on the doorframe of an open stall, before lifting her dove grey t-shirt to check her scar in the wall-mounted mirror above the plain white basin.

The scar nestled between her breasts is undeniably still present – pink and puckered, but visibly undamaged on the outside at least. Her investigation offers no physical explanation for the strange torquing sensation she can feel in her chest. Except that this indescribable phenomenon, this phantom feeling refuses to leave. It's as if something, maybe even her own subconscious, is tricking her. Tricking her into imagining that she's confronting her scar for the very first time. She's puzzled and a little unnerved by what she fears is some kind of stress-induced reaction. It has been an emotionally arduous day. So it takes her a moment to figure out why she might possibly be feeling this way. And then it hits her. She's seeing her scar as she imagines Castle will see it when he looks at her for the first time. If he ever does. If she gives him that chance. If he even wants that anymore.

She leans over the sink feeling strangely light-headed. This feeling, whatever it is, is a result of her own insecurity. She's afraid of being rejected with everything else going on; all that's hanging in the balance after her half-hearted attempt at a reconciliation.

God she's a mess.

She presses her hand flat to her chest, covering the valley between the soft swell of her breasts and then slowly she removes her hand, raising her eyes to examine herself in the mirror, just as she did in her hospital room all those weeks ago while her dad hovered anxiously outside.

There's a sudden knock on the bathroom door and she startles, dropping the hem of her t-shirt back in place, quickly flicking on the faucet with her other hand.

"Be right out," she yells over the sound of running water, when she recognizes the receptionist's voice calling to her through the swing door.

When she checks her father's watch she realizes that a whole seven or eight minutes have passed since she entered the bathroom, and she can't even account for the passage of time.

Her session is one of the weirdest yet. She's trying to be present in the room, because Carter Burke notices everything – every whim of her mood, curve of her shoulders, weight on her spine, the flicker of her eyes, set of her jaw, how carefully she holds herself when she's in pain and how upright she gets when she's having a day when she believes she's almost there.

So she's trying to be present, only she's not.

Dr. Burke is asking her about PTSD: listing any symptoms she may already have experienced and advising her of others she may have to confront at some point in the future. He's prepping her for a return to work, to active duty: days that won't involve her remaining a paper shuffling desk jockey for any longer than necessary. He's also preparing her for the steely focus and steady nerves required to re-qualify to carry her weapon. But throughout the session he has no idea that all Kate Beckett is thinking about is Richard Castle.

On a loop.

It's as if her brain has compartmentalized itself into two sections – the area required for the essential functions that come with simply living: breathing, blood circulation, large and fine motor skills, muscle movement and coordination. These functions occupy the smallest section of her brain right now, while the largest part is given over to the louder, more visceral, primitive task of recalling everything that is her partner. Her level of absorption is extreme. While Dr. Burke talks and she attempts to listen, her mind is being assaulted by a flood of memories – his unique smell, the sound of his voice, recalling, in minute detail, the exact plaid pattern on his shirt today, the fine hair on his tan forearms, the bare swathe of skin exposed by the open neck of his shirt, those neatly manicured fingernails, the cut and color and fit of his jeans, and his eyes. God, those eyes.

He's all she can think about.

"Kate?"

She hears her name being repeated like an echo in the cool, shady room. Only then does she realize that her psychiatrist has asked her a question that she's utterly failed to register.

"Mm?" she murmurs, raising her head to look at him.

"I asked if you're sleeping any better?"

Kate nods. "Right," she mumbles, buying herself a little time with the thoughtful head bob. But her distraction is clearly evident in her unfocussed vision, her evasive responses, and her complete lack of engagement in the back and forth they're supposed to be having.

"Kate, are you okay? Do you have something on your mind you'd rather be talking about?" the doctor asks, ever patient, never judgmental, always so unerringly calm no matter what she might share or confess.

Her eyes flicker up to look at the kindly doctor's face. She's got so good at evading people when they seek the truth from her, which is highly ironic, considering she spends her professional life constantly running down the truth from others. Lying to Castle has morphed from a wish for privacy and a little distance back in the day, when he constantly overstepped the boundaries of "we just met and you want to know what now?" into something altogether more sinister. She's been keeping him dangling, letting him in just a little way, just enough that he stayed interested, maybe thought he had a chance, all so that she could get herself ready, take her time, make up her mind that this was what she really wanted before she made any kind of move, signal, sign or commitment. If a guy treated her like that, she'd have walked away long ago. So it's testament to Castle's character, his tenacity and his patience that he's hung around this long.

Patience. Well there's a trait she never thought she'd ascribe to the writer when they first met. But there it is – the man has the patience of stone. And there's one other thing she's been avoiding thinking about—

"Kate?"

The doctor prompts her again and she startles slightly, the tug back into the here and now disarming her enough in this safe environment that she finds herself being truthful for once.

"I'm sorry. I've been a little distracted," she confesses, giving Carter Burke an honest smile.

"Anything you'd like to talk about?" he offers, never pushing, just opening the door a crack for her.

"I—" Kate pauses, running her fingers through her hair, chewing her lip to quell the queasy excitement churning in her gut. "I saw Castle today," she admits, suddenly finding herself battling an unexpected smile, given how poorly her first meeting with the author went from the start.

"Oh."

The good doctor is genuinely surprised for once, but he barely misses a beat.

"And…it went well?" he asks, tilting his head at an interrogatory angle, studying Kate's face for clues all the while.

She takes a deep and surprisingly shaky breath before answering. Flashes of that afternoon's meeting come careening back to her like a flipbook animation; a show reel of images her brain streams as evidence of one kind and another – both good and bad.

"It ended better than it began," she offers truthfully.

"That's…good?"

Kate nods. "I think so. I…I mean I really hope so."

"And Mr. Castle, how was he? You haven't seen him in—"

"Three months," Kate confesses immediately, needing and yet not needing someone else's reaction to this startling fact. She already knows it's bad; the boys told her as much. She just wants someone unconnected to tell her exactly how bad on a scale of mildly hurtful to unforgiveable.

She sees Castle's face again, as real as if he were sitting in front of her now, both undeniably handsome and unquestionably hurt. Her heart begins to race from a combination of excitement and panic. How could she have gone three months, twelve whole weeks, without setting eyes on him, without speaking to him, listening to the sound of his voice, looking into those kind, gentle, startlingly blue eyes and just…

How?

Burke's eyebrows shoot up to ripple the normally placid plane of his smooth-skinned, bald forehead at her three-month confession of absence. Kate catches his surprise before he manages to render his face a blank canvas once more.

"I know," she murmurs, kicking off her boots before drawing her feet up onto the chair, curling up in a ball and resting her chin on top of one knee. "I've…let him down badly."

"Did he tell you that?"

Kate shakes her head no. "He walked away. At first he…he walked away. He's very angry with me…or—"

She pauses, circling her arm around the front of her knees, hugging herself tightly.

When she looks at Dr. Burke again her eyes are clearer, more determined in their understanding of what happened today. "He's hurting. I hurt him…badly."

"Badly enough that there's no way back?"

Burke studies her carefully, hazel eyes gentle, assuming some self-justification or evasive brush-off is coming. Kate Beckett can be prickly and defensive when cornered or pushed he has learned over the past few weeks' in-depth sessions. So he's surprised by the honesty, the clarity he gets, and by the look on Kate's face when she answers.

"No," she looks down and then up again immediately, and when she does she's grinning. "No, I think we found a way to…he's coming back to the precinct. He's…yeah, he's going to work on my case with me."

Dr. Burke nods, chewing this information over.

"And…that seems to make you happy. Is that enough for you? For both of you?"

Kate replies more carefully, her joy quelled a little, more under control. "I think so. For now. I don't know," she adds uncertainly, after some further thought.

"I only ask because when we talked before about the day of your shooting, you told me Mr. Castle said something to you just before you lost consciousness. Do you remember what that was?"

Silence descends, until the ticking of a clock is the only sound to break the heavy, carpeted hush in the office.

"Kate?"

Kate nods, her fingers clutching at the arm of the chair, shame coloring her cheeks. "He told me that he loved me," she admits with quiet certitude, flicking a darting glance at the therapist's face.

It's taken her a long time to be able to acknowledge Castle's deathbed proclamation to herself, let alone out loud to another human being. Only Carter Burke isn't the human being she should be sharing this knowledge with, and that's something else she can admit to herself only now.

"Did you get a chance to bring up and maybe discuss that with him today?"

Dr. Burke's question is right on point, like a projection of her own private thoughts.

Kate lets her head drop forward. "No," she admits quietly, allowing her hair to swamp her face.

"Were you unable? Were there other people around perhaps?"

Dr. Burke is gently offering her a way out. But she knows she can't take it, not anymore.

"No. We were alone. I just—" She sighs, lowering her feet to the floor, sitting up straighter. "I went there today not knowing what I would be facing."

"So…you knew there was a good chance that he would be angry with you? That he might not even want to see you anymore?"

"You knew that?" asks Kate, staring at her therapist in what could be construed as an accusatory manner.

"Kate," Dr. Burke begins softly.

"Why didn't you say something? Tell me to go to him, to—"

She flops back in the armchair, releasing a loud, exhausted exhale, letting her head loll back against the headrest in frustration. She knows this situation is no one's fault but her own, and as for pretending she didn't know Castle would at least be hurt by her silence…

She rocks forward restlessly when she finally speaks again. "I'm an idiot. And I don't blame you. I'm sorry if that's how that sounded. Of course I know that what I did was wrong. I need to take responsibility for that…make it up to him somehow. I just…I can't get him out of my head, you know?" she admits, a small watery smile accompanying these final words.

"Are you surprised by that, Kate?"

She lets her eyes roam the room, looking but not seeing, while she thinks about her answer. "I was excited to see him," she discloses, gnawing at her lower lip, her expression almost coy. "I missed him. Three months apart is…well, it's a long time for us."

So much goes unsaid in her statement, but she knows that Dr. Burke understands what she's saying even without the words.

"Did he look different to you? The same? How did he appear?"

Kate closes her eyes, taking herself back to that initial glimpse in the bookstore. She'd joined the line, her heart hammering, and then a couple of minutes later, with her courage and curiosity both egging the other on, she'd tipped to the left to peer down past the procession of (mostly) women lined up ahead of her to get a little foretaste of the joy she was sure was coming her way. But what she saw shocked her.

She frowns now at the memory. "He looked…less somehow."

"Less? How so?"

"Mm, as if his essence, his Castleness was gone."

"And how would you describe this...this Castle essence you expected to see?"

The question should infuriate her. It might have done in the past. But today, that Castle essence and her search for traces of it are the only things occupying her mind. Could she really have forgotten so much – how truly wonderful and vibrant a man he is – after just twelve weeks apart?

"He's like a child in a lot of ways – happy, fun, an optimist, full of mischief, curiosity and kindness," she explains, though she knows that none of these words alone, even strung together like some kind of character reference, do him any kind of justice.

"And you couldn't see those qualities in him today?"

Kate shakes her head. "He looked bored at best. His eyes were dull, his smile was…forced, like he was going through the motions."

"With you?"

"With everyone. Not just me."

"And what had you been expecting? Clearly not this."

Kate covers her face with her hands briefly and then runs them back through her hair. "As I said, I've been so stupid. Even after I saw how…how defeated he looked, I still expected more," she admits, her cheeks coloring with a hint of blush at her confession.

"More in what way?" presses Dr. Burke.

"You know what I mean," Kate replies, her embarrassment getting the better of her. Because her expectations were unrealistic, selfish, conceited, even arrogant.

"Assume I don't," Dr. Burke counters calmly. "Why don't you explain what you were hoping to achieve by going to the book signing today?"

"Do I have to?"

"No. Of course not," replies Burke, closing his leather folder with a muffled thwack before reaching across his desk to retrieve his planner.

"I thought he'd be pleased to see me."

The words seem to dangle in midair, lit up in neon, when Kate finally gives up this secret shame. She releases a breath along with her admission, relief at having seized the opportunity that's just been presented to her before the session is over and she's left to decipher her troublesome thoughts alone.

Dr. Burke slowly looks up from his date book. "And he wasn't?"

Kate shakes her head. "He looked shocked, haunted. Surprised maybe. But not pleased. I asked him to sign my book, to make it out to Kate. He just stared at me at first. But the line was long and…he signed his name and handed back the book. That was it…over in seconds. Next, please."

"What did you do then?"

"I waited for him outside like some stage door groupie."

"You sound a little bitter. Bitter at not being treated better perhaps, welcomed with open arms? Made to feel special?"

"He's my partner," she replies reflexively, her indignation finally showing through.

"Do you think he still felt like your partner? After three months of silence?"

Kate wearily shakes her head, knowing full well that the doctor has a valid point.

"Repairing your relationship is going to take time, Kate. It sounds to me as if you've made a good start today. But don't forget how reluctant you've been to address Mr. Castle's feelings towards you. Walk before you try to run. He's going to need time to adjust to having you back in his life, even if he still doesn't know that you're fully aware of his feelings."

"He thought I was still with Josh," she explains flatly. "All this time he thought—"

"And that bothers you? Do you know why?"

"Because I know how much it must have hurt, thinking I was with someone else, happy, and just couldn't be bothered to call…after everything."

"After he tried to save your life?"

"That's why he deserves better."

"Is that the only reason?"

Kate's gaze flickers up to meet the calm, measured eyes of her therapist. She knows that there is no point in hiding anything from him, anything she's managed to figure out at least.

"I can't stop thinking about him," she admits, flushed with pleasure and regret both.

"Did you expect to see him today after all that time and then be able to put your feelings back in that box we've talked about in the past?"

"I didn't expect to feel like this."

"Good or bad? Just answer off the top of your head."

"Like champagne and helium combined." Her face breaks into an uncontrollable smile. "I feel like I'm flying."

Dr. Burke unexpectedly smiles too, giving her a soft, sympathetic look.

"You think I'm pathetic, like some love struck school girl?"

"No. No, I think you cut yourself off from the one person who knows you better and cares for you more than anyone else in your life. And you did that at a time when you were at your most vulnerable. Just…take it easy, Kate. Trust your heart and you won't go far wrong. But understand that Mr. Castle may need time to adjust."

She looks fearful when she asks, "Are you saying you think his feelings towards me might have changed?"

"No. I'm saying you told me yourself that he's hurt. For you, seeing him again has been a revelation. A really good one by all accounts. You finally know what you want, if I'm reading the situation right. But for him, already aware of his feelings towards you, it may have been more like an unexpected splash of vinegar on an open wound."

Kate makes an unpleasant face, a grimace of horror. "So, what? I just wait again? Behave like old times? Let things crawl on like before, with neither of us admitting what we really want?"

"Before today even you didn't seem clear on what you wanted from the relationship."

"No, I—"

Kate goes to protest, but she ends up letting the words of objection die before they can even draw breath. Maybe she knew in her heart of hearts. But she certainly didn't share those thoughts with anyone else, much less with the one man who needed to know.

"Yeah, well, maybe I just needed to be reminded how much was at stake," she concedes.

"And I'm glad you took that step. It was a brave move to reopen things with Mr. Castle in such a public setting."

"Or a cowardly one," counters Kate, arching an eyebrow. "He couldn't exactly walk out in the middle of a book signing," she points out to Burke when he offers her a questioning look. "And I figured there was less than a fifty percent chance he'd take my call if…" she shrugs, her point a moot one now.

"Nevertheless, you reached out. The worst is over. You seem to know what you want and you can begin to work towards repairing things with your partner. Now, our session is at an end for today. I'd like you to complete a little homework exercise for me, if you will."

Kate paces her apartment, stalking like a caged animal between her desk and the front door. Thoughts of Castle followed her all the way home. At times she felt as though he were sitting next to her in the crowded subway car; she imagined his thigh pressing up against hers, the faint trace of his cologne meeting her nostrils to drown out the warm, damp, earthy stench while she stood on the platform waiting for her train to arrive.

And now his phantom presence is here in her apartment, making her restless and antsy and…frustrated, which, while not exactly new, is one of the more pleasant sensations she's felt in a long time. Yearning means she is more than just alive; more than a broken mass of terrified blood, muscle and bone. Yearning means she knows what she wants after all this time.

A yellow legal pad sits at an angle on the edge of the desk, her pen cast aside in the middle of the page she's been staring at for the last hour. But where she should be working on an Intrusion Diary, recording the frequency and content of intrusive memories that have contributed to recent incidences of post-traumatic stress, she's been too distracted to sit down long enough to put pen to paper. In fact, the only thing she feels capable of writing at all are the words Richard Castle, over and over again until she fills up that blank page with her partner's name.

"I did wait. Three months. You never called."

"Damn right I'm angry. I watched you die in that ambulance…"

"Josh help you with that?"

Castle's string of angry barbs return to haunt her, and she shivers, wrapping her arms tightly around her torso. The look on his face, the hurt in his voice: neither of these are things she's used to seeing or hearing from him.

And then she hears herself.

"I'm not gonna be able to have the kind of relationship that I want until that wall comes down. And it's not gonna happen 'til I put this thing to rest."

Her stomach turns over when she remembers making that vague, nebulous promise to him - should he even choose to interpret it the way she meant it - and she's disgusted with herself. The man tried to take a bullet for her, and then he told her that he loved her as he tried to save her life. Two acts of courage that deserved recognition, not a denial followed by total abandonment. And now, after everything, does he not deserve more than to have a few opaque words of promise dangled in front of him to get him to stick around? After she cut him out of her life for three whole months and couldn't summon up the guts to call or even text until she needed the files he was holding on her mother's killer, until he looked useful enough to her again to warrant a second look.

Is that what she did today? Did she use him?

"I know I'm not going to be able to be the kind of person that I want to be…"

Is that really what it's going to take? To destroy the protective wall she formed around her heart to keep all the bad things in life out, she's going to have to solve her mother's murder? What about all the good things she's missing on the other side of that wall in the meantime? She knows she meant it when she explained it to Castle today, but now? Is she prepared to sit around watching the light dim in her partner's eyes, knowing how he feels about her, for months on end until she gets some justice for her mom? It's already been too long – a life on hold, half-lived, going through the motions as if completing some penance no one asked her to perform in the first place.

And what about her? What about what she wants too?

When she finally looks down at her desk, she finds that she has indeed scrawled Castle's name on the yellow, lined notepad. In fact it's the only thing she's managed to write in the past hour.

She can't get him out of her head, and the most terrifying thing of all is the realization that if she lets things go on as they are, she not only continues to lie to him, but she also lets the nameless, faceless evil that killed her mother and tried to kill her have control over her life. Over both their lives.

And then they win.

TBC...

Love to hear your thoughts.