Insert for 4x23, Always.

The words rattle around in her head long after he's walked out of her apartment, the finality of them echoing in her brain, almost completely eradicating the beautiful burst of warmth ignited by another set of words he said to her.

And I love you, Kate.

He loves her, but she's ruined him.

The image of his eyes, such a sorrow filled shade of blue and drowning in tears, is tattooed on the backs of her own eyelids, causing guilt to swirl strong and sharp in her chest every time she blinks. She thinks she may have truly broken his heart, as well as her own in the process, but she doesn't have the time to let herself feel it, to feel the pain the consequences of her choices have brought upon her. She can't give notice or care to the crack that splintered the surface of her chest when the door slammed behind him as he left, not yet. Not unless she wants to fall apart with no hope of piecing herself back together again.

Sometimes when she goes to visit the cemetery, she talks in hushed murmurs, confesses to the tombstone things she would only share with her mother. She's told her about Castle, found herself smiling in the graveyard the first time she ever brought him up. She doesn't speak now, standing silent before her mother's grave, wishing more than ever that her mother was here, that she could tell her what to do, what choice to make. She's always been independent, but having her mother's input had always instilled confidence in her decisions. No one else, except the person she's pushed too far away to get back, has ever been able to come close in reassurance.

She can't turn her back on this case, can't give up on the most important thing in her life, at least… that's what she had claimed was most important during their argument the night before. But he's rivaled for that spot for so long now, she thinks he's finally won, and deep down inside, she thinks her mother would be okay with that.

Kate fingers the ring in her hand, allows the band to dangle and shine in the morning light before tucking it away inside her pocket.

Truth Conquers All. But is searching for answers, the quest for the truth, supposed to conquer her entire life? To destroy everything good in the process?

"Where's Castle?"

"He's off the team."

She says the words without thinking about them, without letting herself absorb how wrong they sound coming from her mouth. It's only the truth. He's made his choice and maybe it's for the best that he's finally out of this, that he no longer stands in the crosshairs with her.

She catches the boys exchange a look when they believe her eyes are elsewhere.

Ryan is wary of her, she can sense it, can feel it in his concerned gaze as it rests heavily upon her, but Esposito backs her without question. Her boys both know the way she's going about tracking down Cole Maddox is wrong, too risky, but she refuses Ryan's plea for procedure and Esposito follows with something she expects is more obligation than faith.

If Castle were here, there would be a chance she would reconsider her course of action, but he isn't. He's done with her, he's off the team. It's for the best.

Maddox is strong, stronger than she had anticipated, and she's being too hasty. Following him onto the roof without backup was a mistake, reaffirmed when he pummels her to the ground, his physical power and special training turning her into nothing more than a rag doll he slings across the rooftop surface with ease. She's in good shape, she's fought off plenty of men his size, and she manages a few blows, but it makes no difference, does no damage. Within minutes, her body is in agony, bones aching and skin throbbing in too many places to count, and Maddox is hardly intimidated. If anything, he's amused.

"Just tell me who's behind this," she begs, begs the man who put a bullet in her heart to just end it, just give her a name.

He looks at her with that same mocking expression that ignites fury in her chest, like she's a child playing in a world where she doesn't belong, and it's not until he's tossed her over the side of the building that she realizes the severity the mistakes she's made in the last 24 hours. She's been stubborn, selfish and reckless, and this is where it has landed her.

Maddox could have killed her then, could have crunched her fingers beneath his boot or simply swept her dangling arms from the side of the building, let her fall to her death. Instead, he leaves her there, clinging to the rooftop, burdened by gravity and regret.

Kate tries to pull, to climb and kick her way back up, but her arms only burn brighter with pain.

"No," she whispers when her fingers begin to cramp and sting with agony, but no matter how hard she struggles, she can't heave herself up. "No, come on," she growls, unwilling to accept this. It can't end like this.

It can't end without him.

"Castle," she breathes, hoping, praying, that he'll come for her one last time, that he'll pull her from the edge like he has so many times before.

Her final set of fingers only slip farther from the ledge.

But just as her grip is about to falter she hears him, calling her name and telling her to hang on, and her heart exalts with relief, with hope that sends one final burst of adrenaline flooding her bloodstream.

"Castle! Castle, I'm here!" No, no she's slipping, she can't – "Castle!"

He catches her before she can fall and she clings to his forearm with both hands, eager to reach the top, to see his face.

Only when she finally finds the safety atop the flat surface of the roof, he's not there.

Truth conquers all, so she stops lying to herself.

Thunder rumbles to life during her exit from the precinct, storm clouds crowd the sky, turning the world a suffocating shade of grey. She feels naked without her badge, her gun - items that have protected and defined her for so long now - but the lack of defenses is oddly freeing as well.

She doesn't notice the rain at first, walking numb down the sidewalk on autopilot, searching for something she doesn't think she'll find any longer. It isn't until she's reached the swings where they once shared their most important conversation that she realizes she's become drenched from the drizzle that's turned to a downpour. She doesn't have the energy to care, drifting through the sheets of rain to latch onto the shivering chains of the swing, curling her fingers around the links of metal and easing onto the place he's always taken as his own.

The rainfall masks the tears that manage to leak from the corners of her eyes, sweeping the stinging moisture away, cleansing her of it.

She's messed up, tremendously, but that doesn't mean it's over, it doesn't mean she's has to give up. She's taken her time to grieve, to reflect, and after a few minutes of sitting hollow yet contemplative in the rain, she rises from the swing with renewed purpose.

He's fought for her and she's ready to fight back.

The doorman greets her with a concerned smile, but doesn't question her, doesn't look at her in disapproval when she drips a path across the lobby or try to stop her from taking the elevator to the top floor as she's done so many times in the past. The storm outside has failed to cease and she's become soaked to the bone, chilled from the inside out, but she knows that the cold isn't the reason she trembles on the brief elevator ride up to his loft.

The waterproof case he bought for her phone a couple of months ago proves reliable, surviving her time in the downpour without issue, and she dials his number, her heart sinking deeper into her stomach when he doesn't answer. But she had expected that; he'd told her he was done, that they were over for the last time, so she can't blame him for ignoring her when she calls.

She just hopes he doesn't ignore her presence on his doorstep.

Her knuckles rap strong and certain on the familiar surface of his door, far more certain than she feels, and her heart pounds rapid and furious against her chest, bruising against the wounded cage of her ribs when she hears the sounds of his footsteps on the other side.

The door swings open and he's in front of her, his welcoming smile fading, and she knows it won't be easy, knows she has to win back his trust, win back his heart, but for the first time since he walked out of her apartment last night, she's able to take a deep breath.

"Beckett, what do you want?"

It's never been so clear until now.

"You."

A/N: Prompt: "Beckett POV of the hours between Castle's walking out of her apartment ("I'm done.") and her appearing at his door in Always." - written by at senseofsongs twitter.

Filled as a gift to Chris for a generous contribution to YoungStoryTellers dot com slash ThankYouTerri. See all the prompts and fills at ThankYouTerri dot tumblr dot com.