An Exploration in Writer's Block - Part 4

Kate stares at the computer screen wondering what to write next. Every day since posting her story on the forums she knows Rick reads, every day since pouring her heart out of the world to see, she has waited anxiously for Rick to come into the precinct and for things to be different. She longs, pleads with the universe for Rick to understand she is the one writing. But without fail, he comes in each morning with coffee and a bear claw in hand, the familiar glint in his eye but a saddening absence of any new knowledge.

She gets up, unable to write anymore. What else is there to say? She didn't write a "to be continued" on the last chapter, and if he hasn't seen it now, he never will. Her story is probably buried beneath the hundreds of other "Richard and Kate" stories on that site. Yes, many of them creep Kate out, however many have provided her with an escape to a world where she and Richard are one, where she isn't afraid too much will change by admitting to Rick's three-word admission.

Looking around the cold and empty apartment, Kate realizes for another night she cannot bear to sleep here. It's too lonely. Too quiet. And, even with her exhaustion, Kate knows she will only get one or two hours of sleep at most. Better to find somewhere else to go, work out her frustrations. She remembers her admission to Castle in story form, admitting to sleeping at the precinct. But was that something he would believe to be true or just a stretch of the truth to get the plot moving? It doesn't matter much, but Kate knows unless she does what her character intended to do (work out, collapse on the couch, NOT see Rick half-naked and sweaty), then she will never get some shut eye.

Kate grabs an extra pair of work appropriate clothes and stuffs them in a bag. Yes, it is her day off tomorrow but if she sleeps over she might as well get in a day of overtime. Gates probably won't care – she will think Kate is being conscientious. Plus there is a ton of paperwork that needs catching up on. Kate picks up her purse, phone and keys and heads out the door. She momentarily considers taking her bike, but between her exhaustion and emotional state, Kate doesn't think it would be a good idea and opts for a taxi instead. The drive to the precinct is short and quick, the taxi-driver not speaking much and very little traffic at such a late hour.

She pays the driver and grabs her bags, heading straight for the workout floor. Perhaps there is a better option for her right now. Maybe she should've listened to her therapist and found a confidant. Maybe she should be going to Lanie's tonight instead of the precinct. Maybe Kate just doesn't care anymore. She followed one of the directions her therapist gave her – she got out her feelings. Though it was by pen and paper (or more correctly computer and keyboard), and not by speaking to someone directly, Kate still hopes it made her feel better. It had to have made her feel better. Doesn't she feel better?

She'd probably feel better if Rick admitted to reading it.

Quickly dropping her bags into her locker, Kate changes into a pair of black yoga pants, a training bra, and a black tank top. She is thankful to have avoided those unlucky enough to have the night shift, for once not wanting to get any human contact. Tying some tape around her knuckles to prevent too much bruising, Kate tucks her water bottle under her arm and walks out to the work out floor.

She starts with a few quick stretches, and follows them with a round of sit ups, pushups and crunches. She keeps her mind as blank as it can be. Castle can't find her here. His voice cannot seep into her mind while the adrenaline is pumping, while she focuses on her muscles, while she pushes through the pain.

Kate collapses on the floor after her sixtieth push up, arms finally giving out. She turns over onto her back and leans on her left hand, her right moving to push sweat-soaked hair out of her face. She makes a fist in her hair, grabbing it and pulling, the pain reminding her not to fall asleep just yet. After a moment to breathe, Kate grabs her water bottle and takes a good, long drink. The water cools her from the inside out, but only causes a shiver to curl down her spine and remind Kate of how cold and lonely she is.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Kate closes her water and pushes herself up to her feet. With her heart rate still pounding and the fatigue starting to build, Kate is unsteady on her legs and almost collapses. She wills herself forward, though, knowing that she can't collapse with even a small amount of energy left – that's when the nightmares come.

She moves to the punching bag, and begins swinging her arms and legs without abandon. She imagines the bag is Josh, standing by while Kate seems to struggle to live. She imagines it as Gates, barking out orders while completely unaware of how things at the twelfth – how their team – operate. She imagines it is all the murderers she has put behind bars – the rapists, the drug dealers, the serial killers. Dick Coonan's face appears on the bag, and Kate punches even harder, wishing the man had never been hired. Finally, she imagines the bag is the men who hired Coonan and, suddenly, her body gives out.

She can't punch it anymore. Can't fight it. There is no face to place with this person – this mysterious being that has haunted Kate for so long. She collapses to the floor, hot tears pooling in her eyes and threatening to fall. All the fight is gone. Her body and heart have realized before her mind, but Kate is unable to fight against this enigma. For years Kate has searched for him or her, and now, finally, Kate has given up. She has come to terms with never finding him – with knowing why her mother was killed and knowing who specifically plunged the knife in – but not who hired him. It doesn't matter anymore, does it?

Sure, it's fine to obsess over the killer when it's only affecting you, when no one else is caught up or hurt or… Kate looks down at her hands, slowing lifting her sticky tank top up to reveal a long, thin scar.

No, she is no longer the only one affected. Everyone she knows could get killed if she keeps going. Montgomery is already gone, entirely Kate's fault. Who is next? Her dad? Ryan? Esposito or Lanie? Martha or Alexis? Castle?

Castle. She traces a finger over the scar then brings her head up to look at the door to the exercise room. For a fleeting moment, she thinks the door moves, but no. It stays still and once again Kate is confirmed that Rick hadn't read her story. He isn't coming. He will never be coming.

The tears finally begin to fall, fat and heavy, down her cheeks. The first rolls off the bottom and lands on her pants, the second caught by a hand running over her face. She sniffles, feeling absolutely pathetic crying on the floor, a sweaty heap of self-disgust.

After a worthy, yet a little more than is healthy, amount of time wallowing on the ground, Kate picks herself up. She feels heavy, tired, ready to collapse. She picks up her water bottle and finishes it off, gulping down the water as if it is air. Taking a deep breath and bracing herself, Kate walks back to the locker room and jumps into the shower. She turns the water to a scalding temperature but barely feels it on her body. The only reason she turns the water down is the red blotches forming on her skin.

Eventually, as the water begins to run cooler, Kate forces her body to leave the shower. She quickly dries her body, pulls her hair into a pony tail and throws on her clothes for the next day. Thankfully the top she chose is meant to be wrinkled – it won't mind sleeping on the couch. Homicide is completely clear other than a few uniforms and they won't dare go into the break room after seeing Kate in there.

By the time Kate collapses on the lumpy break room couch, her mind is shut off and her body unable to move. She falls instantly into a restless sleep, not sure what time it is or even if anyone else is around. Her body hopes to rest for a long time while her mind only wants to keep the nightmares at bay.

Just after two AM, up in her locker, Kate's cell phone rings.

Rick Castle arrives at the 12th Precinct just after three in the morning. He had detoured to Kate's apartment, hoping she was there but asleep thus unable to answer his calls. Determined to find the detective after being told by her doorman she had left just after midnight, Rick next grabbed a cab to the precinct. His first stop is the exercise room. When that comes up a blank, Rick braces himself and checks the women's locker room. Also empty.

Beginning to feel frantic, Rick tries homicide, nodding to the last uniform finally heading home after a long day. He sees the rest of the floor empty – no one else seems to be there. Where is everyone? Where is Kate?

Rick realizes that if he has to keep this up – keep searching – he is going to need some sort of pick-me-up. He heads to the break room, hoping to use the cappuccino machine to get a little coffee buzz going. What he finds instead almost breaks his heart.

Lying on the break room couch, dressed for the following day, hair a complete mess and balled up in the fetal position is Kate Beckett. There is no way that couch is comfortable, and the precinct likes to keep the temperature a little cooler to promote a working environment, all adding up to Kate shivering in her sleep. It doesn't look like a restful sleep either – her eyes are pulled tightly shut and she keeps moving from side to side – as if her body would wake up only if it had the energy to.

Rick does the first thing he thinks to do – he removes his coat and places it on top of Kate, hoping her shivering will stop soon. What he really wants to do is pick her up, take her to his loft and let her sleep in his warm, soft bed. But trying to move her right now really wouldn't be that smart – it would probably end up getting him shot. Or would it? From the sounds of her writing, Kate wants to be taken care of and have Castle bring her home. But would she appreciate him doing it without her knowing?

The coat isn't working – Kate is still shivering. There is nothing else in the vicinity to warm her up, and Castle wouldn't dare play with the thermostat, so instead he carefully climbs behind Kate on the couch and wedges himself in between her and the cushions. He wraps his arms around Kate and allows his warm body to heat hers.

Rick notices the change almost immediately – her body seems to un-tense, her head relaxes a little more onto the couch and she lets out a small sigh. Her body instinctively nuzzles itself back, looking for more comfort and warmth. Rick is startled at first, but he loosens up upon realizing her body is still asleep – her mind just seems to have accepted that fact now.

This isn't so bad. Sure, the cushions are lumpy and something is poking Rick's back, not to mention Kate has rolled back a little so that she is lying entirely on top of his arm, but it really isn't so bad. Lying here, using each other for warmth, having his arms around Kate in a non-life-or-death situation. Not so bad at all. Actually, it's kind of great.

He nuzzles his head in closer, breathing in the deep scent of cherries radiating off of Kate's hair. Maybe just a few hours rest for himself as well, and then they can talk everything out. Using his one free hand, Rick sets his phone to vibrate at 5AM, still early enough that none of the morning shift officers will be in, but late enough that Kate can get a few hours of sleep.

He drifts off himself a few minutes later, dreams of a particular homicide cop invading his ever-working mind.

When Kate wakes up, at first she believes she is still dreaming. A warm body is behind her with arms snaking out to her waist, and a steady breath is being released onto her neck. She tentatively opens one eye, seeing the clock displaying a time of 4:57 AM. Okay, so maybe she only had less than four hours of sleep, but it was probably the best four hours of sleep she has had in months. The warmth, the comfort, the dreamlessness.

She closes her eyes again, nuzzling herself back into the warm body. Did she put out a heating blanket? Kate takes a deep breath, eyes shut and ready for another few hours of rest, but a familiar scent reaches her nose. Chocolate, coffee, high end leather. She knows that smell. She loves that smell.

Kate jumps at the sound of something vibrating, startling the writer behind her out of dreamland. She barely has time to make sense of the moment before she realizes that she is shivering again, and suddenly his arms are around her even tighter and she has absolutely no idea what to do.

Everything in the detective part of Kate, the I was shot part, the my mother was stabbed in an alley part, all of them are telling her to get out of the deathgrip that he is holding her in. But the other part, the more rational part, the part in love with Richard Castle, is telling her to stay still and let him calm her down.

Her love seems to win out, Kate's body slowly sinking back into a more relaxed state. She takes another deep breath then slowly moves herself to pull the writer's arms off of her body. At first he resists, but after a moment she hears a small huff of breath and is released.

Kate doesn't go far, standing up and moving to the other end of the small break room to lean on the counter. She takes a quick moment to peek outside at the bullpen, but it seems only one uniform is in yet and he is busy at his desk. When she turns back to the man on the lumpy breakroom couch, she sees him staring back at her.

"You're shivering." He says, holding out his leather jacket. He doesn't move to get up though, trying to keep some space after such an intimate position the two woke up in. Kate slowly reaches out and grabs the leather, wrapping it around herself without threading her arms through the sleeves.

"Thanks."

The room is silent, neither party daring to break it. Finally, after the air in the room goes from calm to tense, Kate speaks again.

"Thanks."

"You said that already." He replies.

"Right… um…" She takes a moment to decide on what words to use, but her mind can't seem to function. Maybe being blunt is best. "Thanks, not for the jacket. But for…" She motions with her arms back towards the couch and the writer turns his head to look down at their makeshift bed.

"Right. Anytime." He smiles. Nothing dramatic, or for cameras, or for the public, or even to empress the boys. He smiles her smile. The one she loves, the one that shows all of his love in it without him even knowing.

Her face grows hot with him looking at her. If he only knew who much she longed to be held like that by him, how sometimes she wished she could go back to the freezer just to have his arms around her again. How she would dream of waking up the way they did, wrapped in each other's arms. Happy. Warm. Safe. There is only one thing wrong with this picture.

"How did you know I was-" Kate starts.

He cuts her off by raising a hand. "Your story." Her eyes widen.

"You…" Kate doesn't know how to respond. He read it? Why didn't he say anything? Why has he been acting like nothing has changed?

"Yes, I read it. Very clever penname, by the way. And, yes, I know you've been sleeping here, if you can call tossing and turning for an hour or two sleeping. I know how much pain you're in, and how you want it all to stop." His voice gets quiet. "I also know you heard me."

Kate's eyes shoot up. Did she write that? Yes, she wrote that. Oh god, he is going to hate her. Why did she write that? Her mind gets caught up in hysteria, imagining all the ways this scene can go like her story. Only this time, if it doesn't go the way she wants, she can't re write it. This time, it is all real.

The writer can see panic seeping into his Kate's eyes, can see her believing that his reaction will be the same as the Rick in her story. And, no matter what issues they may have to work through later, Rick is determined to make Kate see that he still does love her.

He quickly stands up and makes his way across the room, grabbing Kate's face and pulling her lips up to his. Their mouths meld, moving in perfect harmony, and it is like the whole world has stopped. This kiss pales in comparison to the one from being undercover, but it has so much more emotion and subtext to it. When the two pull back, Kate's eyes are wide and Rick is out of breath.

"I love you too." She says, reaching out to pull him back into another fierce kiss. This time it is heated, full of everything Kate has ever wanted to say to Castle and more. Full of all the hopes and doubts and fears she has collected. And what Rick gives back is a promise – a promise that while things may not be perfect now, they can work through it together. A promise that he will be there for her no matter what – that she is his one and done regardless of how ever many "ones" he has had before.

Again the two break off and their lungs burn from a lack of air. Unconsciously Kate has started crying, her hopes for a future with Rick starting to look much more attainable.

"But what about your mother? And her killer? And the sniper?" he asks, a small glint of hope in his eye.

"It doesn't matter right now. She would want me to be happy over finding them. Besides, we can continue the search," she looks up at her writer through thick eyelashes, "together."

A smile breaks out on Rick's face, and he pulls Kate in for a hug. She lets her tears fall again and fists her hands in his shirt while he places a soft kiss in her hair. "Together." He repeats.

After allowing Kate time to settle down, he pulls Kate back so that he can look at her eye to eye. The two spend a moment in each other, silently saying all the things they need to in a way only each other can understand. It's weird, but Kate feels like she can communicate more with Rick through their eyes than through words. The moment even seems more intimate than their kiss just a few moments ago, like they are truly seeing into each other's souls.

Finally, Rick breaks the silence. "Come back to the loft with me. I have a bed, and a down quilt, and soft pillows, and there's me as well. Come back to the loft, Kate. Just to sleep?"

It takes her a moment for the question to sink in and Kate to realize this is her reality. "Just to sleep," she nods, her eyes cast downwards. The two make their way out of the break room and head towards the elevator. They step in and turn around in unison, Rick reaching out to tap the buttons. Slowly, Kate reaches her hand out and intertwines her fingers in his.

"Just to sleep." She whispers to herself again with a small smile.

~End~

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, I just like to manipulate their for my own pleasure.

I hope you liked it. I wanted to keep it short and sweet, but also semi-realistic. They still have issues to clear up and work through, they still have tons to talk about, but right now Rick realizes that what Kate really needs is stability, support, and sleep. And he hopes to give it to her.

I had quite a few suggestions of other things Rick could do - write a response, write a review, bring it up at the precinct. But, I kind of like the confrontation thing. And I liked getting into Kate's brain a little.

Also, sorry for taking so long to get this out. It has been sitting half-written on my computer since the last chapter was posted. I am so, so sorry. Exams and real life and lack of motivation seem to take over sometimes. But I hope it was worth the wait.

Please, please, please let me know what you think. It is my first Castle story, and now my first fully completed one (my Chuck story still needs its epilogue). And I really do appreciate all types of reviews, even just a simple "I really enjoyed your story" makes my day brighter. And we all need to brighten our days a little, right?

Thanks a ton. You all rock. This was a fun little journey.

Don't stop reading!

~BrittJK