The Nine Lives of Katherine Beckett

A/N: Hello again everyone! I would just like to thank you all again for your love of this story and your kind reviews! I am still seriously overwhelmed at the response to this little fic.

I'm sorry it took a couple of days to get this chapter to you but I hope it is worth the wait. This is the end of this little story, but have no fear there is a preview of the sequel at the end of this chapter. Let me know what you think. Remember, reviews are love. ;)

Chapter 4

He wanted to be mad at her. He wanted to shake her and scream. He wanted to yell at her and demand to know why; why she had lied to his face over and over, why she was telling him now? Why did she have to have that fucking wall up when all he wanted to do was tear it down? He could show her that it was okay to tear it down. She wouldn't get hurt with him; she didn't need it anymore. Why did she have to be so stubborn? He wanted to scream it to her— he had laid it all on the line and told her exactly how he felt and she pretended that she didn't hear him? Like if she ignored it, then it would just go away? It didn't work like that. How could he be okay with that? How could he possibly forgive her?

He wanted to yell. What she did was not okay.

He paced, trying to find the right word to express his anger, his arms flailing in his silent rant. He could feel his heart racing in his chest and the heat rising up his neck. He was seriously pissed off. Only one person in this world could get him this upset and she was sitting on the couch right now… crying.

Rick stopped in his tracks and stared at the woman in front of him, curled up in an impossibly small ball, sobbing relentlessly into her knees. He felt himself deflate as he watched her. He had seen her cry before: pounding her fists against his chest as he held her against the car to keep her from dying with Montgomery, and pleading over Dick Coonan's lifeless body for his heart to start beating again. This was different; this was her crying for herself and her slowly breaking soul. This was the wall crashing down.

Slowly Castle stepped closer to her as he felt his anger slowly slip away, not completely, but enough so that he forgot for a moment that he was mad at her. He placed a hand on top of her head and stroked it like he would Alexis. Part of him wanted to gather her up in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay, that he forgave her, that he would love her always, but he didn't, he couldn't. With a sigh he plopped down on the couch next to her, reached over to slowly unwrap her arms from around her legs and pulled them back across his lap. He knew the minute she pulled herself together again she would be mortified for being there, for breaking down her tough façade, for allowing herself to feel. She would try to run and the moment would run with her. That moment which only came fleetingly— the moment when they could or couldn't. That moment they always missed or messed up. It was about to come back, and he would be damned if he let it pass again. He may be severely pissed off at her at the moment, but he still loved her. Damn it.

His movements were gentle, deliberate, like he was dealing with a spooked animal. She stiffened slightly under this touch and she raised her head to look at him with startled, tear-filled eyes. She sniffled softly and hiccupped out one last choked sob. She watched him with silent wonder as he pulled her boots off and let them fall to the floor one by one with a soft thump. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, too stubborn and pride still too hurt to let his head turn towards her. He waited while she wiped the shining tears off of her cheeks and sniffled slightly again into her sleeve. He watched while her chin crumpled once again and she took a deep breath to stifle the next impending onslaught of tears.

The question repeated over and over in his head as he sat staring into the dim living room. Finally he heard it as his vocal cords vibrated to life and the word left his lips barely above a whisper.

"Why?"

Why did she lie to him over and over? Why did she tell him now? Why was she the one crying? Why couldn't he stay angry? Why couldn't he just throw her and her commitment issues out of his apartment and out of his life? Why didn't he just tell her that they were through and that he never wanted to see her again? Why did he have to love her so completely?

Why?

Rick felt his heart jump and stomach plummet as five simply complex words floated to his ears. Those words he had been dying, hoping, wishing, and praying to hear for months.

"Because I love you, too."

His head fell back to rest on the back of the couch as his eyes drifted shut. The remaining anger in his gut battled with the joy in his heart and the exhaustion fighting to take over his brain and limbs. Time slipped away as he tried to sort through the myriad of thoughts and emotions racing through his tired mind. He could feel his thoughts slow and bleed together as all his remaining energy drained away. He let his head lull to the side and blinked his eyes open to look at her. Her fingers were playing nervously with each other as she stared past him and softly chewed on her bottom lip. She used to do that all of the time around him; her nervous, shy habit. He hadn't seen her do it in a while. She had gotten comfortable with the teasing and the flirting. Instead of biting her lip she had started to play along.

She was scared, but at least she wasn't running.

Her eyes gazed past him to stare out the window into the world beyond their little cocoon. He wondered briefly what she saw when she was staring out there. He was almost positive she didn't actually see the city. He watched her for long seconds. Her mane of messy curls fell carelessly in front of her tear-stained, blotchy face and tired, terrified eyes. Despite everything, he still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world— inside and out.

Slowly he ran his hand down her shin to get her attention and she jolted back to reality, meeting his eyes with a soft questioning hum. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, mirroring his own weary state.

Silently he tugged her down further on the couch and slipped slowly to lie behind her as she rolled on her side to face the room beyond the little world they had built on the sofa. He felt her sigh softly as he wrapped an arm over her middle and burrowed his hand under her jacket to rest on the soft skin of her stomach.

"You aren't mad?"

Her voice was quiet but strong as her hand came up to grip his arm that lay under her neck and nuzzled her head against his hand.

"Oh, I'm furious."

"Then, why?"

He left a gentle, lingering kiss against her temple before lowering his lips to hover over her ear.

"Always, remember?"

Her breath hitched in her chest and she nodded against his hand. He could feel her lips twist into a smile as she pressed a kiss into his palm.

"Always."

Fin.

Preview:

The Eight Deaths of Richard Castle

She crept out of the room, pausing as the door quietly slipped shut behind her. She listened for any sign of movement from the bed she had just left and let out a small sigh of relief at the silence that answered her. With practiced feet she darted across the living room on her tip toes, the tail of Rick's button down shirt flapping gently against the back of her naked thighs as she went. A small smile graced her lips and laughter glinted in her eyes. He had been teasing her for the last month with torturous hints about the plot of his latest novel and she had had enough. She wanted to know and all she could get out of him were cryptic responses and an impish grin. So, really, her actions were justified she rationalized as she made her way through the open door of his office and stood in front of his fictional murder board.

She was the inspiration for Nikki Heat. She deserved to know what mess her alter ego was about to get herself into.

She bit her lip gently to suppress her grin as she finished rationalizing her uncharacteristically devious behavior, and bounced on the balls of her feet as her finger tapped gently on the screen. Her stomach fluttered softly as her picture appeared in front of her and she paused to glance around as her finger continued to hover over the photo. Satisfied that she was still alone and the rest of the apartment was still asleep she let her finger press against the monitor once more.

That same flutter in her stomach churned into a nauseating pit as she stumbled back to sink into her favorite chair. Her eyes never left the faces staring back at her. The faces that haunted her dreams and lived in her nightmares. She could feel the shock rush through her body and the bile rise in her throat.

Why would he? How could he?

She was going to kill him.