Spoilers from Pandora. I've also taken a few notes from the Linchpin sneak peeks, but they're pretty miniscule.

She hasn't slept in days. Every time she closes her eyes, she's trapped in the car again. They're frantic and scrambling, a flurry of limbs and desperate words that they should've said before. Her heart clenches and she's sure this is it, that this will be the time death will refuse to be cheated. Her head swims with the sound of the rushing water. She opens her mouth to confess, but she chokes as the water fills her lungs, drowning her "I love you" into the pit of her stomach. He reaches for her every time, in her almost-dream, but she startles awake, sweaty and shaking, before he can save her.

The last conversation (if you could call it that—more like a petty scolding match) she'd had with him had been down at the morgue, when she'd petulantly spat at him over the fact that he'd slept with her. And then Alexis had caught them.

Shit, she'd never felt so mortified in her life.

Gates sent her home the next morning, after she caught her nodding off at her desk, pale and edgy. She'd discarded the caffeine hours ago; it only made the dreams more vivid and she'd had a hard enough time making it through the day without them playing on a loop throughout her head, taunting her with unspoken words and what could've been. She was still a coward, still hadn't told him even after they'd survived. She'd left before he'd shown up, probably spending the morning licking his wounds in the privacy of his apartment.

Every so often, she gets the urge to call him and her finger will hover over his number, twitching because she just wants to hear his voice, just wants to come clean before the universe intervenes with a bomb or a freezer or any other godforsaken force of nature it can throw their way.

But before she can follow through, images of him and Sophia flash through her head and then she's angry again, tossing her throwaway phone to the side. She's glad she hasn't bothered to get a new one; she would've broken it hours ago.

She wonders if he's with her now, buying her coffee exactly the way she likes it. She wonders if they're swapping stories over burgers and shakes at Remy's, if he lets Sophia have a sip of his strawberry shake because she decides she doesn't want vanilla after all. She wonders if he told her about the Old Haunt, if he bought her a drink and took her downstairs to show her the secret passageway. Or maybe, she thinks bitterly, Sophia enlisted his help once again and they're building theory and finishing each other's sentences.

Some part of her knows she's being irrational, that he's proven himself to her time and time again. But then she recalls the way he looks at the CIA Agent. It sends a chill down her spine, reminds her of the way he looked at Kyra and then she's uneasy and anxious because Kyra was different and she thinks Sophia might be as well. She'd thought she was his future, but she doesn't how to compete with the past.

It's Saturday now, which means it's been almost five days since they've spoken. She checks her phone all the time, looking for a text or a missed call. But she never finds one. She's barely left her apartment. She went to the grocery store once yesterday after she discovered that the only thing left in her refrigerator was moldy cheese and a tomato. If she'd had bread, she could've at least had a tomato sandwich.

Her phone is in front of her now, sitting on the coffee table, taunting her. She forces the book she's got her nose in in front of her face, but she's reread the last line at least five times. She sighs and tosses the book onto the other end of the couch. Maybe she isn't ready to tell him, maybe she is. Either way, things have gone on long enough.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she shoves her feet into shoes and is out the door in record time.

She lays her forehead against his door, eyes closed. I love you. Not so hard to say. I love you.

Yeah, she's in trouble. She lifts a hand to knock on the door when it swings open.

And just like that she's seeing red again.

Castle stands, eyes wide, Sophia at his side.

"K-Kate," he splutters.

"I was just leaving," Sophia says.

She feels the fight leave her body. She doesn't know how much more of this she can take. Her psyche is compromised, her body deprived of sleep, and she can feel the tears prick her eyes.

Never let 'em see you sweat, Kate.

She opens her mouth to say something, anything, to tell him that he's a bastard and that they deserve each other but nothing comes out. Instead, she just shakes her head and clenches her fists at her side, does the only thing she knows how to do anymore.

She walks away.

She ends up at his bar, craves the feeling of a glass clenched in her hands, alcohol burning her throat.

Plus, Castle just hired a new bartender right out of college who's cute and single and all she really wants is to feel wanted.

"Detective Beckett." Jake flashes her a grin, green eyes bright. He hands a lager to an older man sitting on the edge of the bar and turns to her, grabbing a glass from underneath.

"What can I get you?"

"Whiskey sour."

"Where's Mr. Castle today?"

She shrugs, ignoring the way her heart clenches at the mere sound of his name. He throws a napkin down on the bar and sets her drink on top of it.

"Tell me, Jake," she says, taking a sip of her drink, "You don't really want to talk about Mr. Castle today, do you?"

She tosses her hair back and shimmies out of her coat and she swears she sees his eyes darken. She smiles and twirls the straw through her long fingers.

Goddamn infuriating woman.

He pounds on her door for a good solid ten minutes, yelling her name and threatening to kick the door down, before he gives up.

Shit. He really fucked things up this time.

He tried to give her space—didn't call, didn't show up announced. He thought he was doing the right thing, but then she'd shown up at his door looking like she hadn't slept in days. He'd just wanted to haul her against him and breathe life back into her, back into them.

He knew it looked bad, really bad. He knows it must've taken every fiber of her being to even get herself to his apartment and then he'd screwed it up. Again.

He calls the precinct as he races out of her building, but she isn't there either. Ryan and Esposito haven't seen her in days.

Come on, Kate, where are you?

It takes him an hour, sixty minutes, 3600 seconds of racing across the city to every place they'd been that meant something to them—to him, at least—before he finds her.

He hears her laugh first. It cuts like glass through his chest, sends shivers down his spine. It's hollow, empty, and shrill.

He follows the sound of her voice, sighing with relief when he finds her with Jake in the middle of the bar, long legs dangling from the stool.

As he steps closer, he realizes his mistake. Her hand is on Jake's arm and he's practically leering at her and it's wrong, all wrong.

"Kate," he says softly, laying a hand against her back. Her body stiffens and he winces. He watches as Jake slides away from her, shifting nervously. He busies himself with a few uniforms at the end of the bar that Castle recognizes from the 12th.

"Go back to your girlfriend, Rick. I'm fine." Her voice is harsh, but steady, which means she hasn't had much to drink. Maybe a glass or two.

"Don't do this."

She whips her head around, eyes flashing. "Don't do what? You're the one traipsing around with a CIA Agent like some schoolboy with a crush. I'm done, Castle. I'm not doing this anymore. I've had enough of this, of you. I can't do it anymore." Her voice cracks and he thinks it might be worse than he thought.

"Five minutes, that's all. Just listen to me for five minutes and then I'll go away."

She shakes her head and turns her back to him again, laughing bitterly. "No, you won't."

She knows him too well.

He crowds her against the bar and leans into her ear, brushing her hair to the side. He'll be damned if he's gonna lay it all out on the table with a bunch of drunk cops, but he has to reel her in somehow.

"She means nothing to me."

"I see the way you look at her." She pauses, turns to face him again. His heart sinks at the emptiness in her eyes. "It isn't nothing. Because it's the same way you used to look at me."

His breath catches and he's stunned and doesn't know what to say. She pulls a few crumpled bills from her pocket and tosses them onto the bar.

"Don't follow me home."

He knows if he lets her walk out the door that it's over, that they won't come back from this.

"Why is it that I can forgive you for lying to me, but you can't seem to forgive me for sleeping with a woman thirteen years ago?"

She stops dead in her tracks and he swears her whole spine straightens. She slowly turns around.

"What are you talking about?" Her voice is quiet, apprehensive, and she knows exactly what he means.

"I love you, Kate. But you already know that, don't you?"

Her face crumples and she's a ball of anxious energy. He steps closer to her. "I don't want to do this in a room full of people. Just you and me, okay? Come back to the loft with me." A beat. "Please, Kate."

She bites her bottom lip and nods slowly. "All right, Castle."

She lets him rest a hand against her back as he ushers them into the night.

They'll come back from this.

They have to.

This is complete for now. If there's a desire for more, I'd write it, but it's here for now.

Olivia