Name: Muse's fool

Fandom: Castle

Characters: Castle/Beckett, Martha

Genre: Romance, Angst

Chapter: 3/3

Rating: R, I guess, for some curse words

Word count: approx. 5 500 words

Spoiler alert: All up the aired episodes until 4x19 – 47 Seconds.

Summary: A conclusion my two previous fics I've written for the topic of Beckett's secret coming out. But it works as a standalone too.

A/N: This worked out completely on its own, I merely typed it. This last part is written in a way I know will never come alive on the show, but well, I'd wish it to. They'd surely deserve it. The story hasn't been betaed, sorry.

Muse's fool

She leaves Dr. Burke's office an hour later, still highly nervous but determined. He backed her up on her plan, told her she had to talk to Castle if she didn't want to risk their relationship for good.

A relationship she already might have ruined by deceit.

She doesn't want to dwell on that, rather tries to concentrate of what lies ahead of her, a tight knot forming in the pit of her stomach. She's received a text from him while still at Burke's, telling her to come over when she wrapped things up at work. There was nothing personal in the message, the words - even for a text - curt and cold.

Dr. Burke's advice has been similarly clipped, albeit more gentle.

Just be honest about what you feel and don't be afraid to talk. He's been your partner over three years, he *knows* you, Kate.

Well, Kate thinks darkly, that's definitely easier said than done. God knows she has a hard time being honest with herself most of the time. But she's been doing much better in the past few months. She's been doing it for him, for them, to be fair and grant them a real chance before she would stop and run and ruin all that lay in her path like she used to do.

She doesn't want to be that person anymore, she isn't that person anymore. At least it's what she likes to think these days.

She crosses the street, raises her hand to hail a cab. Her hand is slightly shaking. So is apparently her voice when she gives the cabbie his address. She wills her mind back to the image of him behind the closing lift door, the look of misery and sadness clearly written all over his face and she finds her resolve with renewed vigor.

She made this mess, now she has to find a way to untangle it, with as minimal damage to both of their hearts as possible. The drive seems short and insufferably long at the same time.

She pays the cabbie and quickly makes her way into the familiar apartment building before she can change her mind. She nods to the kind old doorman and makes her way straight to the lifts. As the door closes behind her she is once again reminded of the way the secret she's been hiding for so long affected her partner of four years.

Partner. Kate lets the word float through her mind. But he isn't just that anymore, is he? Hasn't been for quite a while. He's already so much more to her and there's still so much to gain for them, if she only lets herself be that person. By making herself vulnerable, she'd be opening a door for him to get inside. Truth is, she doesn't know how he's managed it, but Kate knows that he already is inside, mind and soul and heart. She was only too scared to admit it until now. The closest she's come to this realization were those horrible minutes that followed the blowing of that goddamned bank. From that moment on up until she could finally put her hands on him, grasp the lapels of his debris covered jacked and feel his heart beating under her own hands, in that moment she realized just how deeply rooted Richard Castle was inside her heart.

Still, she didn't have to guts to confess, even then. She always found a flimsy excuse why it wasn't the right time, part of her arguing she still wasn't ready. But as Dr. Burke pointed out earlier today, she might never feel ready enough, which was part of the nature of the beast. It was only her choice to make that final dive.

As Kate stands in the elevator waiting to hit the right floor, her back supported mightily by the back wall much the same way Castle was standing earlier today, she feels the realization slowly seeping in.

I cannot have that kind of relationship until that wall comes down, until I put this thing to rest.

Yes, but it wasn't about her mother's case anymore, was it? She's admitted to that months ago.

I think it's always been there, even before.

She doesn't want to wait anymore. Not for her mother's case to be resolved, not for the wall to completely disappear either, because quite frankly, why bother? Castle's got inside a long time ago. Maybe its time to work on those bricks from inside out, together.

That is, if she hadn't blown her chance. Her hearts constricts painfully with that thought, she's taken too much for granted for too long. Taken him for granted. It hasn't been fair and all her well practices excuses seem way too flimsy and hypocritical.

She's been telling herself she still doesn't know so much about him, doesn't know about his past marriages and the reasons behind their endings, doesn't know if he still doesn't view her just as a juicy distraction that will loose its allure once tasted. All this time though, she's been thinking about things she needed to know about him and she never realized the more important part, that he knew her too. Knew her with all her flaws, all her dark secrets, all her mistakes and blots. And despite that he still loves her. Because he does, doesn't he? He's proven it on so many occasions it would be an outward lie to deny it.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open smoothly, opening up to a luxuriously carpeted hallway. She knows the door her legs are carrying her to by heart, knows that steel combined with red, knows the alluring home that lies behind that door. It's not just a place to crash after work like her apartment, which might be cozy and nice and all but still just an empty place to return to. No, Casa de Castle - as he likes to call his place - holds much more than a bunch of richly furnished spacious rooms, it holds life, spirit, humor and familial love Kate always finds so fascinating, feeling a pang of longing to have it for herself too someday.

Today however, the door from stealth doesn't symbolize warmth and comfort she's so accustomed to. What lies behind those doors today might be a battlefield, a cemetery with bright blue sky and grass way too green to absorb the crimson of her bleeding heart.

She steels herself, because it's always come to this moment, 'didn't it?' and knocks.

She is taken by surprise when she finds his mother opening the door for her. Martha looks unaffected by Kate's lack of response, takes her by the arm and beckons her inside the loft before she closes the door behind her.

There is no exuberant hug, like when she came over after the bank blast, no dramatic gestures Martha made when she greeted her, already in her costume, for her one-woman-show.

There is just this quiet understanding in the older woman's eyes and the look and her stillness, so unlike the woman Kate's used to, make the detective squirm in her spot and avert her eyes in shame. So his mother knows. Of course she does, this family does everything but keep secrets from each other. Still, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach doesn't go away as Kate tries to identify the feeling, which feels strange yet oddly familiar. Its embarrassment, she realizes in the end, like a child that's disappointed their parents deeply.

"C'mon, c'mon dear, don't stand there like a statue," says Martha, bringing her more into the loft.

"I -," Kate starts, but she doesn't know what to say. What is there to say? To Castle's mother all the same. Yet she has a strange feeling of needing to justify herself, explain to the older woman she never meant to hurt her son.

"It's okay my dear, he's waiting for you in his study," interrupts Martha, whether she knows what's on Kate's mind or not unclear at this point. But she obviously doesn't want to hear it and Kate is glad in a way because God, she doesn't even have words for Castle, how could she find them for his mother?

"I'll be upstairs, if you need anything," says Martha, turning on her spot and leaving for the stairs. Just at the bottom however, she turns once again towards Kate, a thoughtful yet determined look in her eyes. "He's pretty hurt Kate," she says quietly, watching the younger woman's shoulders jerk and then slump a little at her words, "and angry, I have to say that. But whatever he says just try to remember that it's not his ego that's bruised, it's his heart." Without waiting for an answer, Martha turns and departs, leaving an already distressed Kate aching with guilt in the middle of their sitting room. And God, she hasn't even spoken to Castle yet.

It's his second glass of scotch in the past half an hour. He knows drinking might not be his smartest move, but what the hell, he's been called stupid and reckless more times in his life than he can count so why not add one more?

It's been something over an hour since she texted and he doesn't expect her to be there earlier than by eight in the evening, when even hiding out in the precinct won't be a tolerable excuse.

It's maybe this why he doesn't think much off the gentle knock on his office' door, thinking it's probably just Alexis or his mother checking up on him. He quickly downs the rest of the scotch that burns his throat and then glances at the door, putting up his most upbeat face for their sake. He's been pretending for the past couple of months, so why not continue the charade just the little longer?

It's Kate – Kate – however, who stands in the doorway and his face falls immediately. He really didn't expect her to show up this soon, which only proves his 'she has a guilty-conscience cause she didn't want to hurt me by not returning the sentiment' theory. He quickly tries to recover, put on his mask of nonchalant carelessness again, cool indifference in the face of what is yet to come. The blow.

"Can I come in?" she asks and her voice, so unnaturally quiet and timid, takes him by surprise. He waves his arm in invitation, gestures to the chair opposite his writing desk. He himself is standing, his bottom resting against the small table at the far wall of his study.

She comes closer, uneasily, fidgets on her spot. She looks lost, like she doesn't know what to do with herself, then finally she sits down on the opposite side of his desk. She looks like a first-grader on her first visit in the principals office, and something deep and dark inside of Castle inwardly sneers at the picture. Good.

But then she raises her eyes, meeting his straight-on and unwavering, determination shining in them like he hasn't seen in her other than when breaking her toughest cases. He gulps uneasily, nearly convinced already to forgive her on the spot just for being on the receiving end of that look, but then remembers. All the lies, all the deceit, the three months that seem like a black hole in the bright timeline of his life. All this time she's known and she never as much as contacted him. And Castle discovers a sudden vicious streak in him. He wants to hurt her, wants her to feel at least a little portion of that guilt and heart-wrenching sadness he is so familiar with by now. Wants her to know how betrayal feels like, how much words can hurt. He wants to have this little ugly thing before he'll be forced to figure out where they'll go from there.

He sits down behind his desk, his movements controlled, poker face on. "You wanted to talk," he says measuredly, his calculating eyes now glued on her, "then talk." A sick rush of satisfaction floods his chest when she's the first out of the two to evade his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she starts and those two little words have the power to unleash his fury obviously, because all of a sudden he is standing, his fists coming to rest on the table. It's all he can do not to circle the table, grab her by the shoulders and rattle her, hard. Sorry? A simple *sorry* won't cut it, not even close.

"For what? For keeping this from me for nearly or year or for lying about it?" he asks, something of that fake calmness slipping away.

"Both," she utters, and the fact that she is still unable to look him in the eye infuriates him even more. Not knowing what to do with himself, he plumps back into his seat with unnecessary force.

"Well, sorry isn't going to do the trick Kate, so you better have prepared something more of a substance."

She raises her eyes then, the lost and panicked look in them nearly stealing his breath away before he gets his feelings under control again. He won't let her do that to him anymore, disarms him by sheer looks of her gorgeousness.

"I never meant to hurt you Castle, you have to believe me that."

The thing is he believes her. It just doesn't take the pain from her betrayal away.

"Well you did," he says stubbornly.

"Tell me what I can do-" she starts, but he cuts through her. "Explain," he orders. "That would be a nice start."

She fidgets in her spot and he hates it, hates seeing her so insecure and self-conscious. She seems to be lost for words and Castle doesn't understand why she's come to see him then, if she doesn't even have to words to explain this to him.

"Okay," he says at last, tired of waiting her out, always waiting for her, whether at work or in private. He's sick of waiting until Kate Beckett comes around. "Since you wanted to talk and you seem to be out of words, let me start then." He tries not to notice how her fingers dig into the sleeves of her shirt, how she tugs and the corners of the fabric, her nails scraping the threads, protracting the material to a point of damage.

"Last summer, you got shot in front of my eyes, nearly dying in my arms. Over a thing that was my fault, a thing I couldn't let rest, over a thing I reopened." Her eyes shoot up at that statement and she obviously struggles to say something but he won't let her, his look warning her to not interrupt him. "I know Kate that it was a huge trauma I won't ever be able to fully comprehend, trust me, I know. But you were not the only one to have been hurt and traumatized by what happened on that sunny afternoon." Her eyes shy away once again and he is glad. It makes what he has to say easier. "You were lying in that grass, your blood pooling all around you, and the only selfish thing I could think about was how I'd never got the chance to tell you how I felt. You were lying there and I was scared Kate, I was scared shitless, that I might never see you smile or hear you laugh again. That's why I chose not to wait any longer, because there was nothing to wait for anymore. So I told you how I felt, I told you I loved you. Loved you, Kate," he emphasizes and she squirms uncomfortably a little in her seat and his heart breaks a little more, though he didn't thought that possible.

"And then you told me you didn't remember and I believed you. I believed your every word even thought it hurt because I knew you'd never lie about something like this to me. I guess I was wrong, I seem to have forgotten you were…" he sighs, feeling way too tired all of a sudden. The anger seems to have left his system in one single rush of air, the memories too heavy to hold onto that anger at the moment as well. "That you were only human." He supplies and watches her eyes brim with unshed tears in the dim light of his study. He nearly cannot take her pity, but he wills himself to continue.

"For three months you stayed out of touch with me and first I though it was because you were blaming me," he sees the surprise in her eyes and something else too (hurt?) but when he sees her mouth opening to say something, he stops her with a hand gesture, knowing if he wants to tell her, he needs to tell her in one piece. She must understand this because she purses her lips back and falls silent, and at least for that he is grateful.

"For two weeks after the shooting, I couldn't sleep." His eyes fall down for the first time, his voice strangled. "Every time I closed my eyes I could feel your blood on my hands. I could smell it, could hear the heart monitor beep a single continuous tune." There is a silence, and he sees a tear sliding down her cheek. He suspects it must be her own memories catching up with her.

"I had to seek out the help of psychologist in the end, Alexis and mother send me you see," he says with a heavy heart and their eyes lock over the table. She looks surprised but there is also something else in her eyes he cannot identify. He isn't sure he wants to.

"The nightmares stopped eventually, though I still have them on occasions." He says quietly, then continues in a more confident voice. "You were gone and I was left with literally nothing on my hands. I was left choosing to spend my time between finishing writing a book that let me relive every single horror of the past weeks and working with the guys to find the son of a bitch who did this to you, hitting one dead end after another. I wasn't in a good place back then either, trust me." He sounded bitter and something in Kate's chest crumbled away.

"I've been staying it touch with your father, did you know that? Checking up on you," he says, some of the resentment back in his voice and in his eyes. She escapes his piercing look once again and shakes her head. So she didn't know.

"Must have taken pity on me," Castle says, the reasons behind Jim Beckett's calls still unclear to him. Not that he isn't eternally grateful. "He called me one day a couple of weeks after the shooting. Told me how you were doing. Has been updating me weekly ever since," He is still looking at her, accusation now shining in his eyes. Surprisingly, she meets his eyes steadily, despite the shiny layer glossing over the brown and green of her irises.

"That day at the book signing I didn't know whether I wanted to slap you or kiss you. But then you told me you broke up with Josh and I was once again disarmed. You told me that you needed time and I was willing to accept that, wait as long as it took for you." At this, he makes a self-deprecating snort that has Kate's heart constrict in pain. "See, I was so stupid I though you meant to wait for me."

Her fingers twitch with want to reach out to him to comfort him several times during his speech. She sees what it's doing to him, to remember and retell everything that he's been hiding under his layers of careless happiness for so long. She had no idea, she honestly had no idea of the depths of his anguish. Of course she knew she's hurt him, knew those three months must have been hard on him, but she honestly didn't have any idea how much damage she's done to him. The shameful part is that she cannot even honestly tell she would do anything differently if given the chance to turn back time. She was not in a good place back then, she would eventually drag them both down with her problems. It still doesn't ease the gnawing guilt over seeing what kind of wounds she knowingly inflicted on him. He deserves none of this.

He's really thought she had it in her to blame him for the shooting. Her whole insides are shaking in her chest like a bowl of jelly by this. And then the confession that he's been seeing a psychologist for having nightmares. Christ, nightmares. About her, dying. It's this image, of him alone in bed at night gasping while waking up all confused and shaken by a morbid dream, that makes the first of her tears to finally escape her eye. Because she knows only too well what that's like, and she never wanted that for him. Because of her. Her side burns with her scar, the puckered flesh between her breasts feels too tight. Despite her eyes swimming with tears most of his speech, for the better part, she manages to wills them away. He deserves to be heard out, it's the least she can do. The least she owes him. She owes him a lot more, she knows, but for now, she'll sit here and listen to whatever he has to say to her, no matter how painful to hear for the both of them.

The news about her father surprises her, he never told her. She cannot blame him really, she would have forbidden him if she knew. She even feels grateful now, knowing it brought at least some kind of peace to his troubled mind, knowing that she was making continuous progress with her slow and painful recovering. Yet it isn't enough. God, it's *so* not enough…

She feels her chest fall heavy with guilt and emotions, love and hurt. She actually agonizes over his pain she herself inflicted and it makes her feel more than a little sick. If she were a decent person, if she were a normal person, they could be the simplest thing in the world.

There is a moment of silence after he tells her about that day on the swings and her heart breaks some more when he tells her, in self-spite, how foolish he was for thinking she was talking about him. But she *was* talking about him, and she knows she has to tell him, but he still seems he's not finished and she vowed to herself she would hear him out first. Besides, there is still this lump the size of a fist stuck in her throat.

"You know Kate, I never expected you to say those words back to me," there is pain in his voice now, loud and clear, but there is also a trace of cold fury dancing beneath the surface. "I just wanted you to know. For my sake, so the next time something like this happens, I won't carry around this burden with me for never telling you. But it seems like I was not the coward here, after all." He gives her a hard look now, and Kate knows the fury is back. "So please Kate, could you explain to me why the hell you didn't tell me you heard me? Why did you keep lying to me about it? And please don't tell me you wanted to spare my feelings Kate, because I certainly won't be able to stand that kind of humiliation."

He lowers himself down into the chair after that, heavily, his fingers coming to squeeze at his eyes. He looks tired, beaten, and she wants nothing more but to go to him and soothe those lines of worry over the bridge of his nose with her own fingers. But she can't just yet, she owes him an explanation first. After that it will be his decision to decide where they go next.

He is still sitting there, his face buried in his hands, shoulders slumped. She wants to talk, she knows she needs to, but there is too much on her mind and she doesn't even know where to begin.

How about you answer his question first? She suddenly hears the voice of Dr. Burke in her head. She takes a deep breath. Okay, she can do that, right? And she starts to talk.

"I lied to you because I was scared." She feels him raise his head to look at her, but she keeps her eyes averted, trained on her twitching hands instead. And just like that, there are tears in her eyes again and she doesn't seem to be able to stop them anymore, so she hastens with her explanation before she still has the courage and voice to do so. "I was shot and I thought I was about to die. And then you were there, telling me not to leave, telling me you love me," she stumbles over the words, her voice nasal and wet with a fresh wave of tears. "The next thing I know I am lying in the hospital and there is this excruciating pain in my chest and confusion in my head and then there is Josh." She dares to raise her eyes at him then to gauge his expression. Its blank and she feels her heart drop another notch in her chest.

You owe him, you owe him, you owe him a proper explanation, she chants in her head, willing herself to continue. "So yes, when you came in and asked me, I lied." His eyes are hard, but some of the pain of that day seeps through his false bravado and it's this that gives her courage to continue.

"The longer I stayed away the harder it was to acknowledge that what you said to me was real." She sees him open his mouth about to protest, but she stops him with the same hand gesture as he did only a couple of moments before. "Those were an awful three months Castle. And God knows I wanted to call you, so badly, but I knew that if I did, everything I tried to run away from would catch up and return to me along with you and I couldn't do that, at least not until I got a semblance of my former life back." Another fat tear escapes down her cheek and she wipes at it angrily, her eyes accidently coming to lock with his over the table. And just like that, despite her blurred vision she cannot look away.

"I read your books you know," she says hoarsely. "Had my father run to the store the first day Heat Rises hit the stores. It got me through some of the darkest days of my physio," she nearly whispers and sees something in his eyes crack, finally shift. It fills her with hope that maybe, just maybe, she's still got a chance. "After that first case, after I froze in that storehouse, I went back to the shrink who cleared me for active duty. Been returning for therapy ever since."

"Does it help?" he asks and she can see genuine concern in his eyes. Her heart warms and she gives him a small smile then nods. "Yes, it does. A great deal actually. You know, we get to talk about you a lot. I-" she stumbles, stops abruptly, and he watches her as she makes her decision whether to tell him what's on her mind. "I told him about you, about us. About what happened last summer."

"What's his verdict?" he asks, and there is the tiniest hint of a joke in his tone. In that moment, it means everything to her. Instead of going for the easy, she decides to give him the complex, more revealing answer. "I've got PSTD," she says and sees his eyes widen and then soften, his lips opening just the slightest bit. She wishes she could kiss him right now.

"So we've been working on that. The sniper case was a though one, but it made me realize one thing," she says quietly, noticing her words made him curious.

"What?" he asks simply.

"That I don't want to be the shell of my mother's case anymore," she whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"Oh Kate," he laments and she can see him literally itch to get out of his chair to cross the barrier between them. She cannot let him do that however, not just yet.

"I told you earlier that I wouldn't be able to have the kind of relationship I wanted until I put my mother's case to rest," she continues and he nods. "Well, that's not true anymore. I came to realize that that wall I've been talking about," she takes a deep breath, runs a hand through her messy hair, "has always been there, self-imposed to protect me from getting hurt. But at the same time it wouldn't allow anybody in. And that wall wouldn't go away on its own, not even with my mother's case solved. It's something I need to work on. And I didn't feel the need to do it before. But I do now," she adds quietly.

He's perplexed, stunned by her words. Kate can't really blame him, she's never offered so much of herself to anybody before. She knows he must be overwhelmed by that. She's suddenly sad she waited so long to tell him.

"You know what made me realize I needed to change? What was the driving force behind me wanting to get better? Be more in life?" she asks softly, sudden gentleness entering her heart and voice. He looks so damn clueless as he shakes his head at her that it makes her heart ache. He really has no idea.

"It was you, Castle. I didn't tell you I heard you back in may because I wasn't ready then. But I was waiting for you, Castle. And when we talked back on those swings, I did want you to wait for me."

There is shock in his eyes, genuine surprise, incomprehension. He still doesn't believe her and she desperately searches her mind for away to make him believe, make him understand. "I was keeping mum these whole months Rick because I was preparing myself for being with you. I wanted to get better first, become a better person, so we could have a chance at a real relationship. You are far too important to me to screw it up just like I did in the past, and being me, Kate Beckett the ice queen," she says, a self-deprecating laugh leaving her own lips this time.

"You are no such thing," he tells her disapprovingly with his eyes boring into her. Hers fill with tears and she desperately wants to believe him. Another tear slides down her cheek as she looks down into her lap where she's cradling her restless hands.

"Tell me I didn't screw this up too badly, tell me I didn't throw away possibly the best thing that ever happened in my life," she whispers, her voice very close to begging. The tears flow freely now.

He is silent and she cannot bring her eyes up to look at him. She hears a noise, hears his footsteps. Before she knows it he's standing in front of her, his shaky hand coming to cradle her wet face. She raises her eyes then. His face is very close to hers, so close in fact she can feel his warm breath hitting her face in steady rhythmic puffs. He doesn't say anything but his eyes say it all. He's smiling at her broadly, radiantly. It's a smile she hasn't seen in so long that she's nearly forgotten it ever existed. He looks ten years younger when he smiles like that at her.

She cannot help as her own lips twitch into a broad smile of her own. It keeps on stretching over her face, splitting it into two until it hurts but she can't bring herself to care. She feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from her shoulders, feels like there truly is something to the saying of a burden shared.

He's still looking at her, mesmerized and smiling, a dazed look in his eyes. He's waiting for something she realizes all of a sudden, he's waiting for her to make the first move. Always letting her take the lead.

She doesn't disappoint him. She briefly wonders about crashing her lips to his because yes, she wants him with a searing urgency tightening in her gut, but she feels that this moment deserves something else. They've had their needy, burning kiss before, undercover or not.

This time she aims for something else. She closes the distance between them slowly, oh so painfully slowly, keeping her eyes open until the very last moment, watching him with that burning want and desire. When her eyes flutter shut it's from that electric feeling that shoots right through her chest, restarting her heart as their lips meet. It's a simple kiss, an innocent really, a lingering one. Just warm and soft lips, oh so sweet and pliant. She moves her own over his slowly, gently, pouring everything she feels for him into that one kiss, savoring the moments for what it is. The start of something new and hopefully very long-lasting.

She feels him shudder by the time she withdraws, only so much so she can look at him again, that radiant goofy smile still plastered on his face. She loves him, God, she loves him with everything she has. And although she still cannot tell him by voice, she tries to tell him in any other way.

He doesn't seem to mind. He's still mightily dazed. He expected a fight, or in best case scenario a gentle letdown. He didn't except her to admit to all those terrible and wonderful things and thoughts that have been her silent companion for so long.

Kate Beckett has been waiting for him the same way he's been waiting for her. She's been trying to become a better person for him the same way he's tried to become for her.

And she's his, for now, and he will definitely work on slowly making her his for forever.

She's still smiling at him like there's no bigger pleasure in the world than to be here with him.

And maybe, Castle thinks, there's really not.

END

AN – Share your love in the form of coffee flavored reviews. Concrit welcome as always. :)