Chapter 9

"Have you read Heat Rises, Dr. Burke?"

"I did." He stared at her pointedly, waiting. "Considering the circumstances, I thought it would be worth my time."

"Did you read the acknowledgements at the end?" She bit her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth.

"Yes."

"You know what he said about me, about how I help him make sense of songs?"

"Yes, I seem to recall thinking that was an odd way to thank someone. Does it mean something to you, Kate?"

It took several seconds, but she finally nodded. "I'd forgotten all about it, but Castle didn't. Like a thousand other little details about our cases and our conversations that find their way into his books, he filed that comment away and then pulled it out when he knew it would have maximum affect. No one else in the world could possibly know what that means – and he knows there's no way I would read it and not remember."

"Do you want to tell me what it means to you?"

The question stopped her for a moment. It hadn't occurred to her not to tell him. She needed to talk about it, to tell someone else on the planet that there was meaning in those cryptic words, meaning that she couldn't miss. But Dr. Burke's question stopped her in her tracks. That conversation nearly a year ago was between her and Castle. He'd asked her how she knew when she was in love, and her off-the-cuff reply had been, "All the songs make sense." She hadn't asked him for the context of his inquiry at the time, though she'd wondered briefly, but then the brief exchange was forgotten, lost among hundreds of other seemingly random comments, questions, and observations he spouted off in a given day.

But Castle didn't forget. He sprung her words from one of the many steel traps in his mind and used them to tell her that she was the reason all the songs make sense to him. He used her own words to tell her again that he loved her, that he was in love with her. But according to the date in the book, he'd written those words in June, more than two months ago. Just as she wondered whether Rook's uncertain fate was due at least as much to timing as intent, she now had to wonder if Castle would go back and change his words if he had known she would never fulfill her promise to call. That grim possibility made the words all the more special, and she suddenly wanted to hold the words in her heart for fear they were the last he ever wrote for her. It might be all she had left of a relationship she deliberately undervalued, and even sabotaged, time and again.

"Kate?"

She looked up and refocused on her therapist. "At first, I didn't see any reason not to tell you, but thinking now about what those words mean, will you hate me if I leave your curiosity unsatisfied?"

She actually looked apologetic.

He smiled and assured her it was fine. "It's enough to know their meaning is that special."

"Thank you. It helped just to acknowledge to another person that I got the message, because I don't know if I'll ever have that chance with Castle."

"What do you mean?" His smile faded and his brows knitted together in concern.

"I haven't talked to him in three months." The admission, combined with the emotional fallout from the book, brought forth a torrent of release. "I sent him out of that hospital room with a promise of calling that I knew I couldn't keep, all because I couldn't face what he made me remember. We fought the night before … before Montgomery … We both said things we didn't mean. I told him what we had wasn't enough, even though I was the one with a boyfriend. I told him he didn't know me, even though no one's ever known me better. And when he called me on everything, I told him to get out. Even then, even after everything we said, he didn't leave me alone. He showed up at that hanger and carried me out kicking and screaming. I've taken down 250-pound ex-cons and outran suspects while wearing four-inch heels, but I let him drag me away from Montgomery. I didn't stop him, and on any other day, I know I could have..."

She suddenly stopped speaking, horrified as much by what she'd just said as by the vehement torrent of emotion that left her shaking and fighting back tears. She hadn't told Dr. Burke what really happened in that hanger, instead telling him the same story they'd told IA – that she and Castle arrived to hear a volley of gunshots before finding Montgomery, Lockwood and the others already dead. But the truth had nearly spilled out of her and she franticly ran through her rant searching for any details that would give away her lie. Her heart pounded as she schooled her face and looked at her therapist for his reaction. But he seemed unaffected, only somewhat puzzled by her abrupt silence, and she was grateful when his next question carried a tone of curiosity rather than suspicion.

"You never mentioned this part before. Montgomery was dead when you arrived, so why did Castle drag you away?"

She put her head in her hands and collected her thoughts, praying that he'd interpret her silence as evidence of her raw emotion – which wasn't at all untrue. She hated lying – hated it – but she didn't know what else to do. Until she knew what was really going on and who was behind everything, she couldn't risk involving anyone else in a conspiracy she feared went far deeper – and possibly higher – than she'd ever imagined. If Montgomery was involved and still rose to the rank of captain, how far had the man who blackmailed them risen? She wouldn't be doing her job if she hadn't considered the possibility that the man behind all of this was still involved in the NYPD or the City of New York. So until they knew more, it was best to appear to know as little as possible. She could couch it in language about preserving Montgomery's legacy, and that was certainly part of it, at least to whatever extent she was able, but there was undoubtedly more at stake. Absently rubbing the scar on her chest and remembering her mother, she couldn't help but think she knew the stakes better than anyone.

And so she put on her toughest mask and carried on with as much of the truth as she could while still protecting the most sensitive details.

"I broke. When we heard the gunshots, Castle held me back, carrying me away … away from the hanger. He said if I went in there, they'd kill me, too. He knew how dangerous Lockwood was and that he was out to kill me this time. If I ran in there, I'd end up dead. He was probably right." She felt the first tear roll down her cheek as she remembered Castle holding her against the car, stroking her face and crooning to her that he was sorry, so, so sorry. She wanted to cling to him and make it all stop, and she could almost feel the force of each gunshot as it echoed from the hanger. "Finally, he let me go, and when we got inside, they were all dead, including Roy. The last time I saw Castle, in the hospital, I told him he should have let me go in there, he should have let me try to save Montgomery. I was trying to put my guilt on him, and it wasn't fair. If I really wanted to, I could have gotten away from him. I remember thinking I'd never realized how strong he was, but I'm trained for that. He was able to restrain me because I was too incoherent to fight back, not because he was stronger. I was so scared … I couldn't face what was happening, and I think …"

A moment passed, and then softly, "Go on."

"I think I wanted him to stop me. I didn't want to die, and I knew that's what would happen." She was openly crying as she let pour the horror and guilt of that night. "I let Castle hold me back. I let him win – and save my life. But we couldn't save Roy."

Her hour was technically up, but neither one paid attention to the clock. She wiped her eyes on the tissue the doctor offered her. She was almost at the end, and couldn't stop now. "We barely talked over the next few days. I knew he wanted to, and deep down I knew we needed to, but I just asked that it wait until after the funeral. I just wanted to do my duty to my captain, and I knew that if Castle and I talked about everything that happened, if we talked about what we'd said to each other that night at my apartment, it would be too much. I was able to function by compartmentalizing everything, by filing away the stuff I couldn't deal with and focusing on what needed to be done in a given moment. And Castle knew that. He knew that about me because he wrote about it in his damn book. Nikki Heat did the same thing. How could I carry Roy's casket and read the eulogy if I was thinking about us – him – and everything we'd been through, everything we …"

Her voice trailed off, leaving so much unsaid. Recognizing her need to move on, Dr. Burke filled in the next part for her. "But you were shot, and that talk you said would happen never did."

"No, it didn't. And when he walked into that hospital room, he just stared at me like … like I was the Holy Grail or something. I told him I needed some time and that I'd call him. I never did. I've let him believe I blame him for everything. I let him wonder about my recovery. And I let everything that hung between us from the minute Lockwood escaped to just sit and mold and rot, and do whatever else stuff does when it's ignored for months."

Dr. Burke let her think about her final revelation for a few moments before asking the most important question of all: "So what do you want to do now?"

For the first time in all her sessions, she didn't hesitate. "I want to go back. I need to reclaim my life and stop hiding. Maybe I've already lost Castle and he's already written Rook's death into the next book, and maybe I won't be able to touch a gun without panicking, but I won't know unless I go back."

"Do you think you're ready? Do you think you can handle being back in the city after so long?"

She eyed him critically, very aware of his reason for asking. "You need to know whether you can sign off on my eval."

He didn't deny it. "That's right. I know you're physically capable, but can you handle it psychologically, Kate? "

Even though the call was his, she knew her own self-evaluation counted for a lot. It showed her progress and her awareness of her own abilities and limitations. And for once, the truth only made her more confident. "A month ago, I told you I still wasn't ready to go back and face everybody. Now, today, I'm telling you I am. Reading Castle's book was like being right back at the 12th with Ryan and Esposito. Seeing the references to cases we all worked on and jokes we made and discussions we had forced me to admit how much I miss them – and him – and the job that we do. Maybe I just didn't want to face everyone until I was a hundred percent recovered, or pretty close to it, and I'm finally starting to feel like myself again."

"And the job? Are you ready to wield that badge and gun again?"

Unable to resist, she countered with a question of her own: "Yeah, I think so, but how will I know for sure unless I try?"

The doctor nodded, obviously proud of her willingness to reclaim her life and face the challenges that undoubtedly awaited her. "Fair enough, Kate, I'll sign off. However, I'd like you to consider keeping up our sessions. I suspect you're 'summer hiatus' upstate will leave you with some unresolved issues once you get back home."

She nodded in consent, not willing to commit either way. A part of her wanted to believe she was "cured," but she'd learned enough in last few months to accept all possibilities.

"One more question. What about Castle? Throughout this whole process, he's been inextricably tied to everything you've talked about. What do you plan to say to him now?"

She honestly had no idea, and had no choice but to tell him as much. "I'm not sure. I guess I just have to hope that he's a better person than I am."

"Do you believe he is?"

She nodded confidently, "I know he is."

The end ... for now.

Thank you for reading. Reviews, both good and bad, are welcomed and appreciated.

- Angie