There are times she finds it hard to breathe; times she's not sure what exactly it is she's doing. Then there are times when she is so sure of herself that even the mention of him brings tears to her eyes. Even through all of the delicious confusion, one thought rings clear; true. She loves him. The words seem foreign in her mind and almost so juvenile as to render them useless and wanting. It's not the childlike love of a little girl for her first crush, no it stings much worse than that. The love she feels for this man is the heartbreaking, soul crushing love that most people go a lifetime without the misfortune of knowing.

She'd collapsed onto the floor hours ago, the tears coming in hot, quaking waves, and just as she feels she can calm herself, another wave takes hold and pulls her under so hard that she scrambles to maintain a hold on what's left of her fragile sanity. The amount of pain rolling through her was simply too much to hold onto, and far too much to try and explain to anyone. None of it made sense anymore. Maybe none of it had to make sense.

She would have followed him across the world and back but it wasn't what he wanted, and it wasn't what he had needed. Still it feels to her a slight, a punishment for not sharing sooner, not believing sooner. This was one battle her partner had to fight alone, but it didn't have to be that way. So now she sits crumbled on the floor of her apartment, unable to think, unable to breathe, and absolutely unable to cope with the level of heartache that seems to be overtaking her. Four years. It had taken four years for her to trust him enough to let him in, to let her walls crumble under the weight of his love, of his steady, abiding devotion to her.

As she lies helpless on the floor, her heart racing with uncertainty, the reality of her situation hits her full-force and she finds herself paralyzed by it. All of the times he has said it to her, all of the times he has made sure she knew what she meant to him, and she'd been so selfish in her love for him, believing him knowing was enough, that she'd never uttered the words. She utters them now as a seemingly infinite amount of tears slip past her lashes and trace the lines of her face only to pool onto the hardwood floor beneath her. She feels the chill through the grain and it settles deep in her soul as she says the words over and over, a litany into her floor that he'll never hear.

His last words play in a sickening loop through her mind. "Beckett, I'm so glad you called." Then the shot, and then nothing.

She had stood for an hour in total shock and disbelief while the flurry of activity carried on around her. The manhunt for her partner and his daughter was underway and as she stood powerless in the bullpen, the realization dawned that she might never see him again. She remembers grabbing her coat and swaying slightly before regaining her footing and walking out the door of the Twelfth in a daze. What she barely remembers is getting on the subway, and then arriving home and stripping out of her clothes before clumsily pulling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt; the t-shirt which is now soaked with tears that can't seem to stop falling.

She wakes up shivering, hours later, to the sound of her phone. Dragging her tired body off of the cold floor, she manages to fumble through the dark of her apartment to find it tossed haphazardly onto the couch. She mashes a couple of buttons and brings the phone to her ear, her hand shaking uncontrollably.

"Beckett." She rasps into the line.

"Kate?" An uncertain voice responds, a voice sounding so very far away.

Her breath catches in her throat and the shaking in her hand spreads throughout her body. She struggles to contain a sob; her chest painfully constricting. "Castle?"

The silence is deafening and for a moment she thinks she had lost the connection, or worse, that none of this is actually happening and she is still asleep on the cold hard floor. Panic begins to rise in her belly, until he speaks again. "Kate. I found her."

She falls apart. No longer capable of holding onto the pain and relief that is quickly filling her, she begins to weep uncontrollably into the phone, her body shaking, her mind shattering. Happiness and grief swirl through her until her emotions become a turbulent storm rendering her incapable of coherent thought. Just when she thinks she might drown, his voice reaches through the depths and pulls her back up.
"Kate, I can't talk long. I just wanted to tell you that I'm coming home, and that I have her."

She struggles to focus on his voice, the sweet sound of safety she has grown so accustomed to. She can hear muffled voices behind him, and he seems to put his hand over the phone for a moment to acknowledge one of them. "Kate, listen, I...I have to go now. I lo-"

"Castle." She cuts him off, her strength slowly returning as she takes a seat on the couch and cradles the phone to her ear as if it's the most precious thing to her on earth.

"Yes?" He responds, hesitantly.

She feels the warmth fill her chest as a smile spreads across her face; the irrational joy soaking through every pore in her body. She is shaking again, but manages to utter each word slowly, punctuating each syllable to convey to him the depth of her belief in how far they have come; in how far she has come because of him. "I love you."

It is his turn now to sob, and she can hear him struggling to maintain his composure on the other end of the phone line.

"Just...come back to me soon." She breathes, and with that, she slowly takes the phone from her ear and presses "end."