Stitched // Castiel

Stitched

A/N: full credit to Good Will Hunting and the writers for the monologue, it's so beautiful and it inspired this oneshot. I changed a couple things to better fit the story so sorry for messing with perfect. RIP Robin Williams, he will be forever missed. Again, monologue NOT MINE and this is just a random bit of writing I did to fill my lonely life:)

"You don't make any goddamn sense," Ten said, feeling as smaller than she had since she was a child told that all she was was a machine. She was a machine,

and that's all she's ever been and all she'd ever be. "I've been sent here to kill you,Castiel" Ten said.

"But you won't," Cas was looking at his feet. He had so much to say, and noway to say it. So he took a deep breath.

Ten was quiet. No, she would not kill him. She couldn't kill him, because hegave her everything that mattered. Everything she liked about herself, Cashad taught her.

"You once told me that you were a machine," Cas said, lifting his gaze tomeet her narrowed eyes. "You were wrong." Castiel sat down on the bench besidethem, and it started to rain. "When we met, you talked like you knew me betterthan I knew myself. You sat down at the booth in that diner and you picked me apart.I thought about you for hours. Something occurred to me and I haven't thoughtabout it since. Do you know what occurred to me?" Castiel looked her in the eyes,and she sat next to him, keeping a fair distance.

"No." She replied hesitantly.

"You're just as lost as I am. You haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."Cas said. It troubled her very soul, the way his demeanor changed.

"Thank you," She gave her normal smart-ass reply, determined to not give him thesatisfaction. To Cas it wasn't about the satisfaction, though.

"You've never been free." He said. She just stared at him. He was looking awaynow, toying with a quarter in his hands. She felt a little bit like the quarter.

"Nope." Ten sighed. Cas inhaled and continued.

"If I asked you about art, you'd probably give me your answers interpreted from everyart book ever written. I was like that once, too. It was facts and opinions," He didn'tpause before going more in depth as to what he meant. "Michelangelo, you knowa lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations,all of it, right? But you couldn't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You'venever actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling.

If I asked you about men, you'd probably give a clever remark about some attractiveguy you met once. You've had sex for sex. But you can't tell me what it feels liketo wake up and have your first thought be about somebody else, wanting so desperatelywith your entire being to be next to them, the only place you are truly happy.If I asked about love, you'd probably give me a sonnet. But you've never looked atsomebody and been totally vulnerable, known someone who could level you with theireyes. Feeling like God himself made this person especially for you, and you for them.And you wouldn't know what it's like to be their guardian, to have that love for them, be there forever, through anything, through death. And you wouldn't know aboutfighting every second of every moment for them, and still see them fade away. Wanting so badly within yourself to hold their hand and go through hell for them, that even the worst of the worst could see in your eyes nothing could prevent youfrom trying to saving them. You don't know about real loss, because it only occurswhen you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've daredto love anybody that much.

When I look at you, I don't see an intelligent, confident woman. I see a cocky,terrified kid. But you're a genius, Ten. No one denies that. No one could possiblyunderstand the depths of you. But you presumed to know everything about me becauseyou saw my bedroom, and you ripped my life apart." He looked straight into the eyes ofAgent Ten, an assassin that was supposed to kill him where he stood, the girl who practicallygave her naive brain to Castiel to replace falsehoods with truth on accident, and Castieltightened his lips into a smile. She stood stiff and was shaking. Ten wondered how the fuckshe was expected to live. To live without Castiel, now that he had in return tore herfucking life apart with full intention of taking her in his gentle arms and sewing her back up.So, no, she would not kill him. It was an absurd thought, at this point.Cas went to speak again, focusing on the lake and how it rippled as raindrops ceaselesslyfell.

"You're an orphan, right?" She gave a nod, uneasy of what would happen if she gave more.

"You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel,who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you?" She noticed now thatsomewhere along the line, a tear had fallen down her cheek and more followed. "Personally, I couldn't care less about all that, because you know what, I can't learn a single thing from youthat I can't read in a book.

Unless you want to talk about you, who you are, then i'm fascinated. I'm here for the 'long haul'.But you don't want to do that, do you, Ten? You're afraid of what you might say." Cas said.He was right, of course, about most everything. Most, everything. "Your move, agent."-"Castiel," She called, before he could heave his room.

She had come back. He hadn't been sure--of anything, frankly--after his speech to her. Deanconvinced him to not reach out, if she decided to leave for good. So, to see his favorite conflictedassassin sitting in the windowsill (at this point, after the countless visits, it was her windowsill) even if she was wielding a rather large knife. After she'd cried in front of him that night, heknew for certain she was not going to kill him, and that she wasn't playing a game with him likehe'd like her to believe. Castiel knew people, knew humanity, and he knew when Ten shed a tearit meant she could learn to trust him, if she didn't already. Which in hand meant someday hecould trust her.

"You came back." He said, smiling. She gave her best attempt at a smile back.

"You once told me that I haven't dared to love anybody as much as I love myself." She started.Castiel looked at her with curiosity, and stepped forward. "You were wrong," Ten hopped offthe windowsill and onto the concrete floor.

Castiel gathered the strength he needed to stay composed, because he knew anything she said he wouldn't be ready for.

"It's all a trick, you see. Castiel, I never dared to love anyone not because I loved myselftoo much, but because I didn't know how. You can't learn to love in a book. All the cockyremarks are just a ploy to make you think i'm not falling apart whenever you look at melike you can see my soul and all of the ugly shit I can't even joke about." She said.Cas was right, he wasn't ready for it. He stared, is what he did.

"I can show you, if you would want that. If you are ready..." Cas trailed off, embarrassed whenhe realized, no, that was dumb. She wanted him to help her be normal that was it-

"I don't think i'll ever be ready. But willing to try... yes. I think I'd like that." She walked untilCastiel could feel her warm breath on his cheek. His mind couldn't quite put the right wordstogether, so instead he leaned down and pressed his lips to her's. She was shaky, but embracedhim by running a hand through his dark hair as he tried to tell her what he couldn't say out loud,what couldn't be put into words no matter how long he lived and learned and how much hetried. She must have understood, because when they pulled back, she couldn't stop grinning.