So, you can all thank StanaTorv for this :) she inspired my angst-ridden muse to rear its ugly head! Haha, Sam you have inspired the return of Debbie Downer! No more happy, sexy time my dears :)

Anywho, the lyrics that inspired this fic are from "Exit Wounds" by The Script. If you haven't heard of the song, or the band, I highly suggest listening to it/them. They are an Irish band directly from Dublin and they are incredible.

Disclaimer: Castle and its characters belong to ABC and Andrew W. Marlowe. "Exit Wounds" belongs to The Script. I do, however, wish that I owned both. But, alas. *sigh*

My hands are cold, my body's numb.

I'm still in shock, what have you done?

My head is pounding, my vision's blurred.

Your mouth is moving, I don't hear a word.

And it hurts so bad that I search my skin,

For the entry point, where love went in,

And riccocheted and bounced around,

And left a hole when you walked out, yeah.

Pain. That was the first logical feeling that Richard Castle had registered in months. The pain of a pounding hang over, that was most likely to blame on the six month bender he had been on. For months he had been entertaining no company other than Jack Daniel's, Johnnie Walker, and Jim Beam.

He sat slowly up in his enormous bed, letting the sheets fall down to bunch around his hips. He swung his legs over the ege of the bed, his feet hitting the hard wood floor solidly. He couldn't even feel the cool surface under his skin. He couldn't feel anything.

Castle trudged through the silent apartment, letting the wam air engulf him, attempting to break through the ice that had encased his soul since that day. He'd lost the one woman in his life that he loved unconditionally. He didn't want to talk to anyone, he didn't want to leave his apartment. He had been sustaining himself on nothing but booze, coffee, and rice for so long that he wasn't even sure his body would tolerate anything else.

He threw a K-Cup into his Keurig coffee machine, and waited until the aroma of coffee filled the kitchen. He hefted the mug, reached into the liquor cabinet and filled the rest of the cup with Bailey's. The creamy liquid swirled around his cup, wafting into his nostrils and seeping into his brain. He took a long drink and let the alcohol burn through his stomach, and swarm his brain.

I'm falling through the doors of the emergency room,

Can anybody help me with the exit wounds?

I don't know how much more love this heart can lose.

And I'm dying, dying from these exit wounds.

When they're leaving, the scars you're keeping.

Exit wounds, when they're leaving, the scars you're keeping.

His phone ringing loudly through the loft startled him out of his silent reverie.

"Castle." He said solemnly, taking another drink of the coffee.

"It's me." Her voice bounced around his head, making his eyes snap to attention.

"Kate," He breathed, not quite believing his own ears. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. I miss you. It's been a long time." She said, even through the phone he could tell that she had been crying. "How are you doing?"

"Can't complain. Doesn't do any good to do that any more any way. No one left to listen." He couldn't even begin to hide the bitterness in his tone. The emptiness of the loft was still getting to him every now and then, and there was really no way around it. Richard Castle, though surrounded at times by thousands of "Castle Groupies" was completely, and utterly alone.

"Come on, Rick. You don't mean that." She replied, a hint of chastising lacing her tone. "I'm here for you to talk to. Always, remember?"

"I remember, Kate. Of course I do. How could I forget?" He said, slurring his words slightly.

"Are you drinking, Rick?" She asked, her tone incredulous and condescending at the same time.

"Maybe. What if I am?" His voice was defiant, but the waver in his words betrayed the confidence that he was trying to put forth.

"I'll be over in ten minutes. Better open the door, or I swear I'll break it down." With that she hung up. Rick slid his phone into his pocket, and took a quick glance around the apartment. Empty alcohol bottles littered the floor and half empty bowls of instant rice covered the coffee table in front of him. He thought about getting up to clean a bit, but what was the use? Kate was a detective for God's sake. It wasn't like she was going to ignore the fact that she could read him like a book.

Before he knew it ten minutes had ticked by and there was a soft knock on his door. He crossed the room and pulled it open, revealing a frazzled looking Kate Beckett. She gasped when she saw him, his hair disheveled, bags under his eyes, and a thick coating of facial hair on his face. He looked much thiner than the last day he was at the precinct, but surprisingly didn't smell as terrible as she had been expecting.

"You look like hell, Rick." She finally sighed, pushing past him and walking in. He had looked bad, but she was no where near prepared for the state of his loft.

Marks a battle, still feels raw.

A million pieces of me on the floor.

I'm damaged goods for all to see.

Now who would ever want to be with me?

I've got all this bagagge, the drink, the pills.

Yeah, this is living but without the will.

I'm blacking out, I'm shutting down.

You've left a hole, you walked out, yeah.

"Well, hello to you too, Detective." He slurred sarcastically. "What brings you here?"

"I'm worried about you. The boys are worried about you. Martha called. You pick." She turned on her heel defiantly, poking him in the chest. "Why haven't you called?"

"Why would I?" He retorted quickly.

"Because, Rick, I'm your friend. You can trust me. Let me help you." She pleaded angrily, though her concern shone through her anger. "I hate seeing you like this, Castle." She lifted her hand and placed it softly against his face. He sighed, his breath hot on the palm of her hand, and leaned his cheek into her caress, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I want to, Kate. God, you have no idea how much I want to let you help. But it's not that easy, love." He smiled slightly, though the grin was nothing more than a ghost of the smiles she had come to know over the past five years of working with him. His eyes shimmered with a sadness that radiated from every fiber of his being. "I can't."

"Why?" She whispered, afraid that if she let her voice go any louder it would break the spell that they had both been put under. "Why can't you just let me in?" She couldn't help but find some kind of sick amusement at the role reversal that had taken place between them. Though any sort of joy or amusement she felt was quickly expelled when she felt his muscles begin to quake.

A choked sob escaped his lips and he wrapped his arms around Kate's waist, burying his face into the crook of her neck, and he sobbed. The hot tears burned a trecherous path through her shirt and down the front of her chest, leaving a firey trail in their wake. She had never seen the man crumble like this. It was unlike anything she had ever witnessed. Kate wrapped one arm tightly around his broad shoulders, and the other around his neck, burying her fingers deeply into his hair, running soothing circles against his scalp with her finger nails and murmuring gently into his ear.

She had to fix this broken man that lay in her arms. She had to make him see that everything was going to be okay.

I'm falling through the doors of the emergency room,

Can anybody help me with these exit wounds?

I don't know how much more love this heart can lose,

And I'm dying, dying from these exit wounds.

Wounds, when they're leaving, the scars you're keeping.

Exit wounds, when they're leaving the scars you're keeping.

Lose your clothes and show your scars,

That's who you are.

"Rick," She started, rubbing his back. "I need you to look at me." She immediately regreted the request when his pained blue eyes met her emerald ones. She felt her heart breaking at the sight of the man that she loved, so utterly and completely, shattering in front of her.

"I don't want to remember, Kate. I just want the nightmares to stop. Please, make them stop, Kate, please." He sobbed, sitting down on the couch and laying his head in his hands. She followed him and sat on the cushion beside him, wrapping her arms around him and letting him cry, letting him get out the frustration and anger that had so completely overwhelmed him for the past six months. She placed a feather-light kiss on his temple and pulled him back against her, pillowing his head on her chest.

Kate wasn't sure how long they had both been asleep when her phone began ringing, startling them both awake.

"Beckett." She said, her voice scratchy from sleep.

"It's Esposito. We've got him. You and Castle might want to get down here."

"Okay, I'll let him know."

"How's he doing, Boss?"

"As well as can be expected. Think I made some progress. See you soon 'Sito." She ended the call and turned to face Castle who was staring intently at a spot on the living room rug. "Rick?" She tried cautiously.

"They found the guy, didn't they?" He whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.

"Yes, Esposito thinks that you should come down and have a sit down with the guy. We all think that he should have to own up to the after math of his actions." She said, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to shower and get dressed, then we'll head down there?" Castle nodded numbly and went about what needed to be done.

Twenty minutes later he emerged from the bathroom, his face still unshaved, but at least his hair had been brushed into place and his clothes were some what decent.

"You ready?" She asked him, grabbing her keys.

"Yes." He nodded, pulling on his jacket and holding hers out for her. "Let's go meet that bastard that took Alexis from me."

Can anybody help me with these exit wounds?

Um...I'm not sure if I even like this. It made me sad to write it. I don't like to think about Castle crying or hurt, but this is what happens when Sam posts sad fics when I first wake up. ;p let me know what you think, love you guys!