Therapy

Burning.

Lights flashing, yelling, chaos... but most of all, the burning.

All awareness focused into a white hot ball of fire in her center, an acid sun going supernova, consuming her from the inside out.

Someone screaming from inside her head might have been her.

His voice, a constant patter, a lifeline of words that she latched onto and clung to in the blinding storm of pain. "...love...Kate...stay..."

Then something cool and blessed, and it all disappeared again.

She could feel before she could move. The maze of burning was still there, but it had faded to a tangle of hot coals, intense, painful, but not blinding and consuming. She could hear voices, arguing in the background, and tried to speak, but her eyes wouldn't open and her lips wouldn't move and her body was stubbornly resistant to any attempts to move it. She tried to understand what they were saying, but meaning was lost in the garble of heated voices.

Her first coherent thought was, If I'm paralyzed, why the fuck does it hurt so much?

She felt a hand take hers, felt something soft against her palm. Lips? And warm breath. The sensation seemed to chase the pain back into a corner.

His voice was quiet as he said, "Oh Kate, honey, please wake up."

Her brain supplied, Castle, and then finally, her mouth worked enough for her to say, "Honey?"

Her voice sounded alien to her, hoarse and creaky, but his delighted chuckle was so familiar. At first, anyway. The hint of a slightly hysterical sob at the end of his laugh held more emotion than she could remember hearing from him.

"Wha... happened?" she creaked.

"You were shot," he said. "I thought I'd lost you. But they put you together again."

"Can' move," she managed.

"It's the medication," he said. "Bullet missed the spine."

She tried to say, "Good," but it came out slurred. "Hurs."

"They'll give you more medication in a minute," he said.

"Nah' doan wanna," she managed. "Tell..."

"A sniper... I saw the glint. You moved when I said your name, just enough that it missed your heart, but there's a lot of important stuff where the bullet hit. Do you remember?"

She was quiet for a long moment, and finally her head moved in the slightest nod.

"Do you remember what I told you when you fell?" he asked, his fingers entwining with hers. She lay there for a long moment, and then her fingers tightened.

"I... 'member," she said. "Woan hol' you to it."

He made an impatient noise. "Like hell you won't."

"Cas... How bad..." The weakness of her voice frustrated her, it seemed to be fading with every word.

"Bad," he said. "But they think you'll live."

She winced. Breathing itself was painful. "Lung?" she asked.

"Yeah. And liver. You still have a spleen, but the bullet bounced a bit. Lots of damage, but nothing fatal."

That explained the burning. She could see the trajectory in her mind, could feel the tracers of pain through her gut. She managed, "Bone?"

"They took out some chips, and you've got a cracked rib. You were in surgery forever."

"You sleep?"

"I will, when they give you your pain meds."

"Nah... yet..." she said. "Still... danger..."

"You've got a protective detail, plus I hired private security. Esposito and Ryan are outside, too. The hospital is irritated with the number of people, but it would take a commando squad to get in here now."

"Nah thah... Wound. Liver's... bad. Still... risk?"

"They let you wake up because they're now reasonably confident that the repair they did on your liver will hold. You're not completely out of the woods, but you were upgraded from critical to serious a few hours ago."

Her eyes finally obeyed her, and drifted open. The room was blurry, and she blinked. It seemed to take far more effort to blink than it had any right to, but finally she could see his face, surrounded by machines and IV tubing, and managed a weary smile. "Than' you," she said.

"For what?" he asked, sounding confused. "I'm just upset that I didn't react fast enough when I saw the scope."

It took an inhuman effort, but she managed to lift her hand up a little. He caught it, and supported it, as she guided it up to his cheek. "For bein' there," she said.

"Always," he answered reflexively. "I meant it, you know. I love you."

Her dry lips curled into a weary, weary smile. "I know. Cas... Rick... You have to know... 'simportan'." Her hand hung in his, limp against the stubble of his cheek.

"I know," he said.

"Love," she managed. And then a little stronger, "Love you, too."

His lips quirked, his cheek dimpling against the back of her hand. "Will you let them give you your pain meds now?

She grimaced, and then nodded. A shape moved, and she realized that a nurse had been standing off to one side, just before the cool relief tingled up her arm, and consciousness faded.

The next time she woke, her first awareness was of the pain still burning through her torso, and her second was of the quiet sound of snoring. She opened her eyes to dimness, Castle, barely visible in the dim room, was stretched on a cot next to the bed, sound asleep.

She moved experimentally. Arms, check. Toes, check. She started to shift her hips and and came to the abrupt and unpleasant realization that she was catheterized. An involuntary groan escaped her, and Castle startled awake, shifting to her side in a moment.

"How long?" she asked. Her voice came out low and pained, but clear. The lack of muzziness in her head told her that whatever they were still giving her for pain, any morphine that had been in her system was no longer.

"Since the last time you woke up?" he asked. "Or the last time you talked to me?"

"Since I was shot," she said.

"Four days," he answered.

"And since I woke up?"

"Well, you weren't really coherent the last time, six hours ago, which was when they changed the sheets, but the last time you actually spoke to me was about 24 hours ago."

She blinked. "You' been here the whole time?" She caught the slight slurring in her voice and grimaced.

"Where else would I be?" he asked.

"Wi' Alexis," she said, and frowned. "With your daughter," she said, more slowly.

"She's been here almost as much as I have," he said. "I made her go to school, finals are coming up, but she's been coming here afterward, until Mother takes her home at bedtime."

"That can't be good for her studying," Kate said, shifting, and then gasping as the movement sent pain radiating through her chest.

"Kate!" he exclaimed, reaching for the call button, but she caught his hand.

"It's just... moving hurts," she said. "If you panic every time I wince, I'll have to shoot you myself."

"Still," he said. "They can give you something, make sure..."

"I don't want to sleep yet," she said.

"Alexis is doing as well as anyone could be expected to do under the circumstances," he said.

"My dad?" she asked.

"He's been here every day, but goes home at night."

She looked at the window, at the lights of the city and a sliver of orange-purple night sky. "Did they catch..."

He was already shaking his head. "You'd think, with that many cops... but it was chaos."

"Damn. We can cut off all the arms we want, but until we get the damn head... they just keep buying new ones."

"Shhh," he said. "It's a battle for another time. You're not going anywhere for a while."

She shifted again, and yelped, and then looked at him ruefully. "I'm getting that."

Bright light lanced in from the hallway as a nurse knocked and opened the door simultaneously.

"Do you want another dose of pain medication, Detective Beckett?" the nurse asked, while checking the catheter bag.

"Not yet," Kate said. "I'll let you know."

"They'll be setting you up with a PCA pump in the morning," the nurse said. "You'll be able to self-administer whenever you need it then."

"How much longer do I have to keep the catheter?" Kate asked.

"Until they're ready to get you out of bed," the nurse said. "Could be as early as tomorrow, could be a little longer. The doctor will decide."

Kate grimaced. The nurse looked at Castle and said, "Call us as soon as she needs something."

He nodded, and the nurse left, leaving the room dim again.

"How do they know I'm awake?" she asked.

"The room is monitored," he said. "Video, audio, plus your vitals."

"Vid... that's not standard," she said.

"Lets just say this is the most secure hospital money can buy," he said, quietly. "And as much as I want to be in here 24/7, I do occasionally need to attend to basic bodily functions."

"They can hear us?" she asked.

"I've been assured that they tune out normal conversation," Castle said. "And HIPAA means that anything we say will not be shared."

"They let you stay..." she said.

"Your father authorized it. It helped that you'd listed me as an emergency contact with the precinct. I'm honored, by the way."

"He must really like you," she said with a weary smile.

"He was a big part of why I asked you to back off the case in the first place," Castle said. "He came to see me. Thought maybe you might listen to me where he knew you wouldn't listen to him. I... had to try."

She blinked, and her eyes widened, and she said, "Oh. That explains..."

"I know it felt like I was pulling the rug out from under you," he said. "And that's the last thing I ever wanted to do. But between him, and Roy, and … The thought of losing you, Kate, it was so close, I was sure you were..." His voice broke, and she reached weakly up to touch his face.

"I was wearing a vest," she said.

"And it took enough of the moxie out of the bullet that it didn't just blow a hole in your chest," he said. "But that was an armor-piercing round, from a sniper rifle. They meant business."

"Why couldn't you tell me?" she asked. "Before..."

"Josh," he said. "I was trying to respect your relationship with him. That got less important when the bullet hit your chest."

She grimaced. "Does he know?"

He nodded. "He was here, once, early on."

"Just once?" she asked.

"Do you want him?" he said quietly. "Because I can call him for you."

She shook her head. "It's been ending with him for a long time. I kept trying to figure out what to say, but he was never around, so it just wasn't a priority."

"He and I talked," Rick said quietly. "I told him it was your choice, and that I would respect it, but that I wasn't leaving here until you told me to. He said something to the effect that he had never been very good at being there for you, and that you'd been pulling away from him for a long time. And that you deserved to have someone who wasn't halfway around the world most of the time. But that if you wanted, he would try."

"You're always here for me," she said. "Always. But I should still talk to him."

"During the day, probably," he said. "It's four a.m."

She nodded, and then coughed. The jarring motion brought tears to her eyes, and his hand tightened around hers. "They said you'd need to do that, it's important, to prevent pneumonia."

"Hurts," she said.

"They said that, too."

"I feel so fucking broken," she said.

"Right at the moment, your body is broken. But it will heal. It'll take time, but it will heal."

She looked at him, the frustration naked on her her face. "This isn't who I am, Rick."

"Of course it isn't," he answered, scooting a little closer and stroking her hair. "I know who you are, and 'lying helpless in a hospital bed' may describe your current location, but it certainly doesn't define you. I fully expect you to be cranky as hell about it for a good long time." Then he grinned. "But that doesn't mean that I'm above taking advantage of the chance to cosset you as much as possible."

"You make that sound almost dirty," she said, then winced as an involuntary chuckle sent waves of pain rippling through her chest.

"Plenty of time for dirty, later," he said. "I'm afraid we're limited to strictly platonic cossetting for now."

"You're assuming..." she started, and then gave him a wry grin. "Exactly what you probably should be assuming."

The grin that lit his face brought a smile to hers. "You look like a little boy who just got told the circus is coming to town."

"Duh," he said. And then he gave her a sly look. "You know, I'm told that endorphins are good pain relievers."

"I'm hardly in any shape..." she started, but he stood, braced himself solidly on the arms of the bed, leaned over, and kissed her gently. Only their lips touched, and he lingered there for a long moment, and then sat back down.

"So?" he asked. "Do endorphins help?"

She nodded, and said, "But it was better standing up."

His eyes twinkled, and he said, "I agree."

She coughed again, and the jarring brought tears to her eyes. His thumb was on the call button before she could stop him.

"Time for medicine," he said. "I have it on good authority that keeping on top of the pain will speed your recovery."

The burning was getting stronger, and she couldn't argue. She kept her eyes on his until the icy medication pulled her back under.

When she next woke, the sun was streaming in the window, and he wasn't in her line of sight. The pain was there, always, but she pushed it away and said, quietly, "Rick?"

"I sent him to take a shower." Lanie's voice made her smile. "He was getting pretty ripe."

"Hi, Lanie," Kate said, with a weary smile. "How long that time?"

"He said you were up at at four, and it's ten now," Lanie said. "They've got you on the good stuff."

"Nicer room than we usually get," Kate said, patting the hospital bed weakly.

"You have no idea," Lanie said. "As soon as his initial panic wore off, Writer-boy was calling in every favor and then some. And I don't just mean a little bit."

"Do I want to know?" Kate asked.

"Let's just say he finally got under your skin."

Kate looked confused.

"You're the same blood type," Lanie said. "And apparently at his mother's request, he's been banking his own blood for a while. Most of what you got, except the platelets, came from his stored products. And a fresh donation."

Kate blinked. "That's not calling in a favor."

"No, that would be one of the top battle trauma surgeons in the country walking off a helicopter from Bethesda and into the operating theater within 45 minutes of you getting shot," Lanie said. "Followed by a couple of other specialists. You might notice, when you get a chance, that they didn't actually crack you open. Did the whole thing laparoscopically."

"For a chest gunshot wound?" Kate said, with disbelief.

"Castle's friend was on the horn with the surgical team before he landed, and the facilities here are top notch. The doc said that if they could do it without cracking your chest, it would cut your recovery time 75%. Something about not adding a great gaping knife wound to your GSW."

"Still hurts like a motherfucker," Kate said.

"The bullet they pulled out of you?" Lanie said. "You're damned lucky it only hurts. That thing was not meant to wound."

"So they cut my recovery time by 75%," Kate said. "What am I looking at?"

"You will not be back at work for at least three months," Lanie said. "Probably closer to six. When you come back, you're going to have to leave the chase-and-tackle to others for a good long time. If you fight for it, you could be back at about 90% in a year. The docs will want you to avoid major metabolic stress for a full year."

"Major metabolic..." Kate looked slightly baffled.

"Don't get knocked up," Lanie said. "Your liver needs time to heal."

"Wasn't planning on it," Kate said. "You think they'll consider this line-of-duty? If I can't work that long..."

Lanie laughed. "Girl, I think you have nothing to worry about in the money department."

"Lanie..." Kate said, warily.

"With the way that man's been throwing money around the past four days, covering your measly little salary for six months is pocket change, no matter what Personnel decides. And don't you dare stand on pride on this one, Katie-girl, because he wants to help you. And you're going to need it. He's already been working on setting up a better rehab team than your city benefits could ever provide, and that's going to get you better faster." Lanie took her hand. "Kate, I know you're proud, and I know you're independent, but the last thing you need is to set your recovery back by months just because you're too stubborn to accept the help he's eager and willing to give you. Besides, near as I can figure, you've earned it. How many millions is he earning from Nikki Heat, between the books and the movie? Consider it royalties if you can't take it as a gift."

"I hate feeling like I owe people," Kate said.

"I don't think he sees it that way," Lanie said. "In fact, I know he doesn't. You getting better is going to be the best repayment you can give him. Now, tell me where it hurts."

Kate closed her eyes and said, "Ache and burn, right chest, lower rib area. The catheter is annoying. So's the IV. Mouth dry. Am I NPO?"

"I bet I could find some ice chips," Lanie said. "But they're going to want to check you out before you get anything more substantial."

"Ice chips sound delicious. Is that weird?"

Lanie laughed. "Not really. Although my patients don't usually complain of dry mouth."

"Has he really been here the whole time?" Kate asked.

"Aside from the occasional pee break, yeah. We've been chasing him out of your room a couple times a day to go eat. I expect he'll be back any minute. Why, you miss him?" Lanie's voice was light and teasing.

"Yeah, actually," Kate said. "Should have gotten shot months ago."

Lanie snorted. "You could have made the first move."

"I tried that once," Kate said. "It was disastrous, remember?"

"Having a boyfriend on the side is a lousy way to tell a man you're interested," Lanie said. "Speaking of Motorcycle Boy, you want me to call him?"

"Let's wait until I can stay awake for longer than an hour at a time," Kate said, not bothering to correct her. "I should probably not be on the hard stuff when I break up with him."

"Honestly, I think all you have to do is call him up and let him off the hook," Lanie said. "He dragged in here once like a dog with his tail between his legs, like he'd made a mess on the carpet, and then dragged back out again like a kicked puppy when he got the full picture. Call him up, tell him you'll live, and that you're sorry, and that's all it's going to take. He's not an idiot."

Kate sighed. "Do I have a phone?"

Lanie rummaged in the small dresser next to the bed, and pulled out Kate's cell, found Josh's number, and said, "I'm putting it on speaker, so you don't have to hold it."

Kate glanced at the door, and found it closed, hesitated, and then nodded.

The phone rang only once before Josh answered, which, Kate thought, was probably a record.

"Kate?" His voice sounded wary, concerned.

"Yeah," she said. "They say I'm going to live."

"Good," he said. "Do... do you want me there?"

"I..." Kate looked at Lanie, and hesitated.

"I know he's been there more than I could be," Josh said. "But he said it was up to you."

"Josh, I'm sorry," she said, quietly. "I just... it was ending before this happened. I don't want to string you along."

"I understand," he said. His voice sounded a little sad, a little relieved, not angry. "Good luck, Kate. It was fun."

"Yeah," she said. "Josh..."

"Hmm?"

"Someday, you're going to find someone who loves your work as much as you do, who doesn't need you to change... And I wish you well. I'm sorry I couldn't be that person."

"It's okay," he said. "It's clear that you've got a good support system, and I hope you feel better soon."

He hung up, and the phone went dark, and Lanie put it back in the drawer. "Told you he'd be sensible," she said.

Kate was quiet, and bemused.

Castle came in a few minutes later, and Lanie left to find ice chips.

She tried to kick him out the first time they came to get her out of bed an hour later, after the doctor gave the okay, but he just raised his eyebrows at her and said, "Like hell," in a disconcertingly mild voice.

"You don't need to see my ass right now," she said.

"I won't, I'll be in front of you," he answered. "Besides. I made them put you in a backed gown."

For the first time, she actually noticed what she was wearing, and was startled that the garment appeared profoundly different from the usual hospital gown. "Just how many strings are you pulling here, Castle?"

"Technically it doesn't have strings." The gown appeared to have a strange combination of snaps and velcro distributed strategically at the shoulder seams and down the sides. "It's the height of post-surgical couture, or so my mother swears."

She rolled her eyes. Structurally different it might be, and the fabric felt surprisingly pleasant, but the blue-on-white pattern and bagginess of the garment made it clear that function was a much higher priority than fashion.

"You'll need to be careful of the drains," the young nurse said. "And we'll be keeping your IV out of the way. You should let us do the lifting. It's important that you get up and moving, but the less you disturb your abdominal muscles at this point, the less pain you're going to have in your chest."

"Drains? How many..."

Lanie said from the corner, "They made four small holes in you, instead of a great gash. There are drains in two of the incisions."

Kate made a face.

"We're just going to get you up and standing for a moment," the nurse said, as she fussed at a piece of tubing. "If that goes okay, we'll leave the catheter out and you'll be getting up every few hours to use a commode next to the bed."

"Castle, you've got to go while they take that ou...oh!" Kate looked startled as the nurse stood upright, smiling, and pulled the catheter tubing out, already wrapping it neatly.

"You were saying?" He sounded amused.

"You don't need to see me like this," she said. As they talked, the nurse was quietly lowering the arms of the bed, and a soft hiss sounded as the bed dropped closer to the floor.

"What, barefoot and hurting?" he asked. "You're going to be like this for a while, and I would rather see you than not. Also, when you come home, you're going to need help. And I'd like to learn how to help you safely."

"Cas.. Rick.." Kate's brow wrinkled and her lips pursed. "We'll talk about it later. What next?" She looked up at the nurse.

"We're going to let the bed do the work of sitting you up," she said. "Then I'm going to help support your chest wall, Dr. Parish is going to mind the tubing, and Mr. Castle is going to help you first turn, and then stand."

The bed motor hummed as it pushed her upright. The background pain intensified as her body shifted, and the nurse held a pillow gently against her chest. Lanie stepped in, deftly shifting the IV tube out of the way.

Kate bit her lip as they helped her pivot until her legs were hanging over the side of the bed. He was rock solid, his arms steady, grasping her elbows firmly. She looked up at him.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Let us do most of the work," the nurse said. "Mr. Castle is going to bring you forward, I'll be helping from back here. It's going to hurt."

"I get the feeling that everything is going to hurt for a while," Kate said, and then he was moving her, shifting her slowly forward until her feet found the floor, lifting until she was standing flat footed in front of him. The pain spiked when she took her weight on her feet, and her hands tightened on his arms involuntarily.

"I've got you," he said. Then he grinned down at her. "I forget that you're not actually six foot one sometimes."

She gave a single chuckle, in spite of herself, and then winced. "I would have expected my legs to be wobblier," she said.

"With Mr. Castle here and his band of merry rogues?" Lanie said. "They were doing electrical muscle stim therapy while you were under heavy sedation, to maintain your muscle tone. He said the last thing you needed was to have your legs weak just because you'd been in bed for four days."

She adjusted her weight from foot to foot experimentally, and winced as her chest burned in response. Her head dropped forward, and she let her forehead rest on his chest. From that position she said, "How long am I supposed to stand?"

"That's long enough, if you're ready, we can help you back in," the nurse said from her shoulder.

"Give me a minute," Kate said. Her hands were tight on Castle's arms. She looked up at him, and said, "You're awfully quiet."

He gave her a small half-smile. "I'm here."

The IV tubing trailed from her left hand, and she gingerly let go of him with her right, reaching up to push her hair away from her face. "I probably have the world's worst case of bedhead."

"You're alive," he said. "And you're beautiful."

With a pained chuckle and a blush, she said, "Lanie, how bad is it? My hair, I mean."

"Nothing we can't fix in a minute," Lanie said gently. "You look like death warmed over, but in a good way."

Kate swayed slightly, and they immediately shifted her back until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "I feel like death warmed over," she admitted.

"Let us do the work again," the nurse said.

A few minutes and a few yelps later, she was back in the center of the bed. "How is it possible to be this tired?" she asked Lanie.

"Oh, I don't know, girl. Something about a GSW and four days out cold? You want us to braid your hair? Keep it out of the way?" Lanie waved in the general direction of Kate's head.

"I can do it," Castle said.

They both looked at him strangely. "What?" he asked. "I spent a good decade putting Alexis in braided pigtails. It's safe to say I know my way around a head of hair."

Lanie looked amused, and pulled a couple of bands out of her pocket. "Whatever you say. That is, if it's okay with you, sweetie."

Kate nodded, bemused.

Castle took the bands, and said, "I don't suppose you have a rat tailed comb handy?"

Lanie rolled her eyes and walked over to find her purse. "You're just lucky I'm prepared."

"Yes, yes, we are," he said solemnly. He took the comb from her, and moved up near the head of the bed. "Two braids?"

"Not too tight," she said. "The last thing I need is a headache."

"Of course," he said.

"They're bringing in the PCA pump in a few minutes," the nurse said, "It should help a lot."

Kate nodded, and lifted her head to let him bring her hair forward so that it could be combed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, sweetie," Lanie said.

"Thanks, Lanie."

The nurse slipped out after the medical examiner, and Rick began carefully detangling Kate's hair, working from the ends up.

"You're good at that," she murmured.

"Alexis had a sensitive head, curls when she was little, and I hated hurting her," he said. "So we figured it out pretty early. We'll see about getting your hair washed tomorrow."

"I don't know whether I long for a shower or dread it," she said. "And no, I'm not ready to let you help me with that."

"I know. I wasn't planning on insisting. But I've got a friend who can come up and wash your hair before you'll be allowed in the shower. They can do it while you're in the bed, even." He finished with one section and moved methodically on to the next.

"It's hard for me to let people take care of me," she said.

"It's also hard for you to open up," he said. "You managed that with me. And I actually enjoy taking care of you. Always have. Think of it as a favor you're doing me."

A laugh, and a wince, and she sighed. "First time in my life I wish you were just a little less funny."

He smiled, and moved around to the other side of the bed to work on her hair.

As he started on the first loose French braid, she said, "Did they get the shooter?"

"Nope," he said, ignoring the fact that he'd already answered the question. "In the wind. Not that it matters, we know whoever is behind this would just hire another one. By the time they figured out what had happened, the shooter just... Poof."

"Who's in charge at the precinct now?"

"I don't know," Rick said. "I've been too busy to ask. And I don't care that much at the moment."

"Busy?" she said.

He shrugged.

"Oh, come on, you know you want to tell me. You always want to tell me."

He was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was low and reluctant. "I was terrified. Petrified even. You're lucky there were that many trained people there, because in the minutes after you passed out, I couldn't... God, Kate, I thought you died."

"And?" she asked, gently.

"And Lanie got to me just as EMS pulled up, gave me a shake and said, 'She's got a chance, she could live.' When she said that, I knew that the only way I was ever going to forgive myself for not moving fast enough to get you out of the way of that bullet was if I moved fast enough to get you the people you needed to give you the best chance possible. I bulled my way onto the ambulance with you. Lanie told them..." He stopped.

"Lanie told them what?" Kate prompted.

"Lanie told them that if anyone could get you to stay, it was me. They knew her, and made the exception. So I climbed in, got as far out of their way as I could, and I got on the phone, and I held the hand they weren't working on, and whenever I wasn't actually speaking on the phone I was telling you..."

"I think I was aware, a little bit..." she said.

"You came to, briefly, sort of," he said. "You were screaming... I told them to bring you here... I knew from book research that the facilities here are better for trauma than the hospital that was closest, and I called everyone I'd ever talked to about advanced gunshot wound treatment. The guys at Bethesda were the best. They sent their best doctor and one of their best nurses, but more important, they sent some experimental biofilms and some highly specialized equipment. The folks here got you stabilized, but it was the Navy doctors who put you back together. I didn't stop talking until they had you under and were taking you back to surgery. Even I knew better than to try to bull my way into that." He gave her a wry smile, and finished the braid with one of Lanie's bands, then shifted back over to braid the other side.

"And then?"

"The waiting," he said. "Josh came, not long after you went into surgery. When he found out that you'd been at a funeral, and that you hadn't even told him that Roy had died... I think that was the moment he figured out just how much you'd been keeping him at arm's length. We had a... discussion. I was as much of a gentleman as I could be about it."

She made a face. "It wasn't... It really wasn't his fault. I never let him in."

"He left not long after, though to give him credit, he did ask us to let him know when you woke up. Which I did, this morning."

"That's why he answered so quickly," she said. "I broke it off. He took it well."

A tension went out of his body, then. He took a breath, and continued. "Your dad has been here, usually comes in the late afternoon, leaves around nine."

"It must get pretty crowded in here in the evening," she said.

"It doesn't feel like a crowd," he said. "It feels like family. Never doubt that you are loved, Kate Beckett. Not ever." He wrapped the band around the end of the second braid, and then leaned down to kiss her temple.

"You..." she said, a smile working across her face. "You're a romantic."

"You knew that," he said. "Or you aren't half the detective I thought you were."

"It's one thing to know it, and another thing entirely to be at the receiving end of it," she said.

"There's more where that came from," he said, with a little bit of a leer and an eyebrow waggle.

She managed to stop herself from laughing, and said, "I can't promise that it's going to be easy for me to let you take care of me."

"I know. Just know... I'm not doing it out of pity, and I'm not doing it out of guilt. I'm doing it because I want to help. I want to see you get better."

"Injuries like this..." she hesitated, not wanting to say it.

"You may not get back everything you had," he said. "Maybe you won't be wearing heels for a while. Takedowns and hand to hand combat are likely off the menu for a good long time. Getting back to work might mean a more desk-focused job. You may be dealing with chronic pain for a while, maybe even a long while. You're going to have to think about your health and your body in ways you've never had to before. And many of the things that you think define you, the assumptions you make about who you are and what makes you, you... those are likely to be challenged more than they ever have. Your body is something you've always been able to count on, and it may not be that reliable for a while."

"You fell in love with Detective Kate Beckett," she said.

"No," he answered. "I fell in love with you. I fell in love with the way your mind works, with the way we talk to each other, the way our brains fit together. It doesn't hurt that you're drop dead gorgeous, but that's just window dressing, it's not what makes me crazy about you. Yeah, it was a turn-on, knowing you could totally take me down if you put your mind to it, but Jesus, you can do that just as easily with words, and it's just as sexy. Sexier, sometimes."

She smiled at that, and he continued. "Whatever else we might be becoming, I'm still your partner, and your friend, and the last thing I'd ever do is abandon you just because you're hurt. As your partner and friend, it's my fucking job to do everything in my power to make it better. And whether or not you can get 100% back, it doesn't matter. What matters is getting you back as much function as we can."

"If anyone can, you can. You've pulled me out of the pit and brought me back to life once before," she said quietly, a small smile playing across her lips. "You didn't even know it."

He looked slightly confused. "I did? I mean, I know I've saved your life, you've saved mine, et cetera, et cetera."

"After my mother died," she said. "Your books. They... they helped me when I was in a very dark place. They brought sense to something senseless. They were part of why I became a cop, a homicide detective. In a very real way, they helped shape my adult life—they were a part of what made me who I am."

"You never said," he breathed.

"You knew I was a fan," she said. "From the first."

"But not like that."

"I didn't want to be a groupie," she said. "And the last thing you needed when we met was another puff to your ego."

"I'm just glad I could help, even if I couldn't have known at the time I was doing it."

"I... It would be hypocritical for me to refuse your help now," she said. "Especially now."

He stood again, and leaned over to kiss her, one hand on her cheek. Her hand went up to his side, and she froze. He straightened immediately, knowing what she'd touched.

"You're armed," she said.

"Until we find the head and cut it off," he said. "You know I've got a permit. And I'm good with it. And you have someone gunning for you. I have no illusions that they're going to stop trying to get at you, and as secure as we've made this place, as many resources as I have, I still want you to have someone with a gun standing between you and the door. We've run background checks on every nurse who is allowed in this room, every guard who stands outside that door. Not just phone calls, but photographs, financial histories, the works. No one enters this room that we don't know."

"And how long can you afford to keep that up?" she asked.

He looked amused for a moment. "Fishing for my net worth?" he asked. "The answer is long enough. At the moment the money is still coming in faster than it's going out, even with all this. It's almost irritating that the events of the past few days have actually seen quite a bump in book sales. And not just the Heat books."

"The press got hold of it?" she asked.

"How could they not? Kate Beckett, shot at her mentor's funeral? You were in Cosmo. There's too much story for the press to let it go. None of us have talked to them yet other than a daily official statement of your general condition. I'm considering hiring a helicopter to take us out of here via the roof when it's time for you to come home, fly to the Hamptons, and bypass the press entirely."

"That will shut them up. 'Nikki Heat goes to Rick Castle's Hampton's home to recuperate,'" she said dryly. "And you're making assumptions."

"Yes," he said, without a trace of apology. "I am. Educated assumptions that your loft does not have sufficient room for the equipment that is going to help you get better, faster. Assumptions that you don't have the space for 24/7 help, which you will need if you want to get out of here in less than a month, and that if you're with me, you won't need that help to be professional. Assumptions that if you're at my loft or the house in the Hamptons you're going to be a hell of a lot more secure than you would be at your own place. Assumptions that you trust me enough to know that I will never, ever hurt you or push you to do something you're not ready for."

"Like moving in with you?" she asked quietly.

"Staying with me while you recuperate is not moving in," he said. "But you've stayed with me, I've stayed with you, and I've never, not once, touched you inappropriately, or even opened a door between us that you told me not to open. Those are boundaries I will never, ever cross without your permission. And if you really prefer to be at your own place, then I'll hire you nurses and guards. I'll rent you a bigger place if need be. If you need that space, you can have it. But I'd rather have you with us. Martha and Alexis want that too. Alexis was the first to say that you should recuperate with us. I told you when your place was blown up that you have a home, and I meant it. I still mean it."

"Okay," she said.

He blinked. "Just like that?"

She grinned. "You seem determined. And I'm tired. And I... You know what I like. You're good at the details. And I'm not attached to my apartment. If I'm going to be recuperating for months somewhere else, it should be sublet, my stuff put in storage. If you and my dad and Lanie can handle it..."

"Consider it done," he said. "We'll make a list later of things you want here, things you'll want at my place, things that can go into long-term storage." He looked at her closely. "But you're fading fast. You need to sleep."

"I hurt, and it's noon," she said. "And I'm kind of hungry. Will they let me eat yet?"

"I'll find out," he said.

A moment later, a nurse came in and installed her PCA pump, and the first dose sent her to sleep before they could even order lunch.

When she woke next, the room was surprisingly full. Rick and Alexis were sitting on the cot, playing cards. Martha and Jim Beckett were sitting in folding chairs by the window, talking in low voices.

Kate watched the odd domesticity for a few minutes before they they noticed she was awake. By unspoken agreement, it was her father who came to her side first. Martha cocked her head to one side, and said, "We'll be in the hall."

Rick made the start of a noise of protest, but Martha silenced it with a tiny jerk of her head. He and Alexis followed his mother out, with a glance back at Kate.

"Hey Dad," she said, as he picked up her hand.

"You scared me, Katie," he answered, without preamble.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"He's a good man," Jim said. "And his family is a delight."

"Yeah."

"He said you're taking him up on the offer of a place to recuperate."

She nodded.

"If you'll have me, I'd like to join you in the Hamptons. Rick offered."

"I'd like that, Dad," she said, and he finally smiled.

"He's good for you. Never thought I'd actually hear you accepting help."

"Some help now, and I'll need less help, sooner," she said. "I may be stubborn, but I'm not stupid."

"He loves you," Jim said.

"You..." she tipped her head to one side. "You actually approve."

"Of a man who tried to jump in front of a bullet for you? Who is taking care of you even better than I could? Of course I approve." Jim shook his head. "I always thought you deserved better than the leather-covered bad boys you always brought home. He's better. And he clearly loves you very much. So does his family."

"You never approve," she said, still a little gobsmacked.

"The man knows what it means to have a daughter. He's respectful. We get along very well. Your mother would have liked him."

"I got so close, Dad."

"I want you to stop," he said. "Quit pushing, at least until you're healed."

She sighed, and the motion sent a trail of burning sparks through the injuries in her chest. Finally she said, "Until I'm healed."

"You let him help you," Jim admonished. "If he can get information by throwing money at the problem, you let him do it that way, rather than by putting yourself in the line of fire."

She nodded. "Can't stop him, really," she said.

"Bout time you knew what that felt like," her father said, cracking a smile. "Do you love him?"

She nodded.

"Good," he said. "I'll call them back in."

Martha was cheerful, almost too cheerful. Alexis was subdued and a little shy, but seemed enormously relieved.

"Can I hug you?" Alexis asked. "Or would that..."

"How about a hand squeeze for now?" Kate said. "I'd love a rain check on that hug, though."

"Done," Alexis said, taking Kate's hand. "I... it was so terrifying. I didn't even understand what was happening at first, but then... The look on my dad's face. I don't think I'll ever forget it. I'm just so glad that you're alive."

"I hope being here hasn't gotten in the way of your homework," Kate said.

Alexis shrugged. "Nothing better to do here, and being at home... I wanted to be with my dad. My homework is fine."

"How's Ashley?" Kate asked.

"He's getting ready for graduation."

"You still planning on heading to Stanford next year?" Kate asked.

"I— I don't know," Alexis said. "I don't have to decide for sure until the fall. I'm leaving it open for now."

"Don't let this get in the way of your plans," Kate said quietly.

"I just need a little while to decide. Ash understands."

"The good ones wait," Kate said, with a little smile at Rick, who was leaning against the wall by the door, watching them.

"Yeah."

Martha stepped forward and said, "I checked on food, they say you can have a milkshake to test things out, but that the nurse will need to watch you. I guess they've been feeding you through the IV?"

"Milkshake sounds good," Kate said. "It's been days."

"They decided against an NG tube," Rick said. "Too much concern about the possibility of aspiration, and your lungs have been through enough."

"Anyway," Martha said, "I told them if you hadn't eaten since the shooting, you were probably pretty hungry, and they ought to get to it. Our dinner is on the way up, so we won't all just be sitting around and watching you eat."

A knock sounded at the door, and Rick peered out. "Speak of angels, and hear the twitching of devils' tails," he said, grinning as he let Ryan and Esposito into the room, bearing pizza boxes. A nurse followed them in, carrying a small glass filled with a viscous white liquid and a straw.

"You really need to work on your presentation," Rick admonished the nurse. "That looks remarkably unpleasant for a milkshake."

"At this point, it could be in a specimen cup and I wouldn't care," Kate said, reaching for it.

The boys put the boxes down on the windowsill, and came over to the bedside, trading places deftly with Martha and Alexis.

"How you doin' boss?" Javier asked.

"Oh, you know," Kate said. "Sucking chest wound, death's door. The usual."

"You look better," Ryan said. "Unconscious, it really isn't you."

She rolled her eyes at him and took a sip of the milkshake. "Oh my god," she said. "That has no right to taste that good."

"Pizza isn't bad either," Castle said, around a bite. "Thanks, guys."

"Dude, it's your dime," Javier said.

"Yeah, but you went and got it," Castle said. "They don't deliver up here."

Kate sipped her shake, and watched the good-natured banter float back and forth across the room. The sheer relief in the room was a near-tangible thing. She noted that a peculiar inversion of the laws of physics seemed to be occurring, because the more she pulled from the cup, the heavier it seemed to get.

Rick noticed her flagging, and was at her side, steadying the cup and saying, "Visiting hours are over, guys."

There was an immediate bustle, and not a word of complaint. Alexis gave her dad a hug, and exited with the rest of Kate's visitors.

The nurse was at her other side, slipping a surprisingly soft cloth blood pressure cuff around her arm, and briskly taking her vitals.

"Just tired," Kate managed.

"I've got to check. They were pretty sure there was no damage to your digestive tract, but we need to make sure."

A moment later, the nurse finished, and said, "Looks fine." She reached over disconnected a white tube from one of the ports in the IV tubing. "You should be able to have breakfast in the morning. Call us if you need a snack in the night. They want you to eat what you can, calories no object."

Kate gave a weary smile and said, "Lucky me."

"It's a one-time only offer," the nurse said. "And probably not worth it, all things considered."

"Silver lining, right? But I'm full."

"Your stomach shrank," Rick said. "But you can have more when you wake up."

"How long until I get coffee?" Kate said, sleepily.

"In the morning, if you like," the nurse answered. "Decaf only, though."

"Don't need caffeine here," Kate said. "Think we can go full fat and sugar on my usual, Rick."

He grinned. "Gladly. They've actually got a decent coffee stand downstairs." He picked up the pump trigger and put it in her hand. "Time for your medicine, Detective."

"I could get to hate this stuff," she said.

"Good. But for now, you need it. Sweet dreams."

He caught the cup before she dropped it, and handed it to the nurse as Kate fell asleep again.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. She was vaguely aware that sometimes after she triggered her pump, a therapist would come in and work her muscles. The tiny electric shocks were almost soothing, the experience of having individual muscle groups triggered without her conscious involvement was a bit unnerving, but the narcotics in the pump meant that she couldn't find it in her to care, and often fell asleep anyway mid-treatment.

She complained to Lanie one morning that she was sleeping twenty hours per day, and Lanie just said, "Good."

He was almost always there when she woke up. She realized quickly that she wasn't thinking of him as "Castle" anywhere near as often as she thought of him as "Rick".

Each time the pain medicine wore off, she went a little bit longer before triggering the next dose, and managed to be awake a little more. Every time they got her out of bed, she stayed up just a little bit longer.

Five days after the shooting, they took out the drains in her chest.

A week after the shooting, the IV came out and she took her first shower. The impersonal help of the nurse was a relief, as was the bench in the shower. Rick was there as soon as she was decent and back in bed. She teased him about watching her on the monitors, and he shook his head. "I wouldn't."

"You'd be tempted."

"I'd love to see you naked," he said. "But not on a closed circuit television. I prefer my nudity to be consensual and mutual."

"But you were listening."

"Nope, just told the tech to tell me when you were done."

She still looked skeptical, and he frowned, looking almost hurt. Then she grinned. "You're so easy..."

At that, he grinned back. "For you? Always. Never stop teasing me, Detective."

"I won't." She looked at her arms, and said, "Hey Rick, look, no tubes."

"Does that mean I get to hug you?" he asked.

"Only if you don't touch my chest."

"I didn't think we were there yet, anyway," he said, with a slight leer.

"If it wasn't for the damn bullet wound..." she started.

"You'd still be with Josh and I'd still be waiting," he finished.

"Ah," she agreed. "Likely."

She held out her hands. "Help me move over."

"As you wish," he said, with a tilt of the head and a curious look.

She shifted gingerly until she was lying almost against the rail of the bed. She patted the mattress to her left, and said, "C'mere."

"You sure?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't make me ask twice, Castle."

"Right!" He sprang into action with a near-puppyish eagerness, dropping down the bedrail, and then gingerly lowering himself onto the mattress next to her with exaggerated care, shifting his bulk as far over as he could manage, to give her room.

When he was on the bed, facing her, she said, "Help me turn."

His arm was solid, and she used it to very carefully roll onto her left side, leaving the wounded right free. Without her asking, he slipped a pillow in behind her, between her back and the rail, and she sagged against it. A lock of still-damp hair hung across her cheek, and he pushed it back behind her ear. "This isn't how I pictured our first time in bed together," he said.

She chuckled, and winced. "I know exactly how you pictured our first time in bed together," she said. "You wrote about it."

"That's Nikki," he said. "Not you. There were a thousand possibilities. At least half of which didn't actually involve a bed. But snuggling in your hospital bed after you almost died? That's one I never wanted to imagine."

"I'm a cop," she said. "You had to know this was a possibility."

"Knowing the risks intellectually, and diving into the story enough to make it a believable scene are two entirely different things," he said. "And I... Feeling you go limp in my arms, watching the color fade from your skin as you bled out... It's going to take a while to get that one out of my head, and I hope I never experience it again."

"You gave me your blood," she said.

"I know I'm clean," he said. "I get tested often enough. And getting most of it from a single donor reduced your risks. Besides, if we ever had a kid together, you having received a transfusion from me actually reduces your risks of some pregnancy complications."

She gave him the strangest look. "Your mind is a very odd and twisty place, Richard Castle."

"I research things," he said. "Sometimes they lead off on interesting tangents. And Alexis' mom had pre-eclampsia."

"You assume I want kids?" she asked.

"I was actually thinking that the 'with me' part was the ballsier assumption," he said.

She grinned. "You're good at being a father," she said. "If I ever do have kids, I'd want them to have a dad like you."

"I'm flattered," he said.

"What about you?" she asked. "Did you ever think about having more after Alexis?"

"Gina couldn't be bothered," he said. "And Meredith... inflicting her on one child was bad enough."

"In other words you thought about it..."

"And figured that if I was ever going to have another child, I'd have to be a hell of a lot more careful about who the mother was. But I like kids. I like being a dad. If the circumstances presented, it wouldn't be a bad thing."

"Even though your daughter is going to be graduating high school before it's even a possibility?"

He gave her a long look, considering his response, and then finally said, "Kate, if someday, when you're healed, you want a baby, all you have to do is ask. I'm game. I can't magically make Alexis younger, much as I might want to try. We play the hand we're dealt, and if that means I have twenty years between kids, so be it. It's not like I haven't had enough time to play and be irresponsible in my life. And you're young enough that there's no hurry."

"I'm 31," she said.

"And I'm 40. And there's still time. Am I hearing your clock ticking?"

"No," she said. "I have it on good authority that I'm supposed to avoid that sort of thing for a while anyway. My lifestyle isn't very conducive..."

"Lifestyles can change, adapt." he said. "And if this..." he gestured vaguely at the two of them, "If this happens, working in this family is something people do as a choice, not a survival requirement."

"I'm not after your money," she said.

"I do get that," he said. "If you had been, you'd have been in my bed a couple years ago. And out of it again not long after."

"I love you in spite of your money," she said. "Not because of it."

"It has its uses," he said dryly. "It's a convenience."

"I'm not going to stop being a cop," she said. "I don't know how."

"And I will never ask you to," he said. "You get to be yourself with me, Kate. If that means late hours at the precinct on a case, I'll be there, making the coffee and bouncing ideas. If that means you decide to take time off and be a mom, that works too. And I've done the stay-at-home dad thing before, I can do it again. Just... try not to get yourself killed. Because that would break me."

"There will always be risks," she said.

"I know," he said. "And it doesn't really matter if this goes nowhere, because you getting killed would break me regardless."

"I can't be a cop and promise not to get hurt," she said.

"Just... try," he said.

She leaned forward, slightly, bridging the distance between them.

The kiss was gentle, and slow, and his hand drifted to her hip, hers to his shoulder, both mindful of her hurts.

After a minute, he pulled back and said with a sly grin, "You know we're on camera."

"Don't care," she said. "'s better than morphine."

"In that case," he said, "have at."

She gently pulled his head toward her, until her mouth was near his ear. "When I'm out of this place, and no longer in danger of breaking stitches, I am so going to have my wicked, wicked way with you."

"My dear Kate," he said. "I certainly hope so."

Disconcertingly, she fell asleep mid-kiss a few minutes later.

Amused, he shifted ever so gently until his body was supporting hers, her head on his shoulder, and murmured into her hair, "You are never going to live this down."

She woke an hour or so later, when one of her regular nurses came in to take her vitals. The nurse seemed absolutely unfazed by the fact that she was using Rick as a pillow, and worked deftly around them. Rick slept through it.

Kate said to the woman sleepily, "Pity they don't make these in a queen size."

"If he decides to bring in a queen sized hospital bed," the nurse answered, "there's no one here who's going to say him nay."

"Must have been a sizable donation," Kate said.

"To the hospital, and a bonus to your private staff, too."

"I have a private staff?" Kate asked.

"Someone tried to murder you in a very public way," the nurse said. "And he's a celebrity. Everyone working on your case, all of us, know what side our bread is buttered on. The company I work for has built its entire business on catering to the needs of people for whom privacy is paramount. It's our job to make you comfortable and keep you safe, and if that means a queen sized hospital bed and not talking to the media, so be it. If we do our jobs, we get paid very well, and have ongoing employment for as long as we want it. If we don't, the financial penalties can be...severe. There's a clause in my contract that says that any media paybacks are forfeit to the customer, and they monitor our financials. Not to mention the criminal penalties for HIPAA violations. A fine of up to 1.5 million and ten years in prison? Not worth it. And he's not so big of a celebrity that there's anyone likely to pay enough to make it worth it. The job pays just fine." Then she grinned. "He looks like he makes a comfy pillow. Are you doing okay in that position?"

"It's actually better than lying on my back was," Kate said. "Easier to breathe."

"Have you been short of breath?" the nurse asked.

"A little, I assumed it was normal for this kind of injury."

"There are a whole lot of things that are normal for this kind of injury," the nurse said sternly, "that are also pathological. Dying is actually 'normal' for the kind of injury you had, but we're trying to avoid that. They'll probably want to do another MRI this afternoon."

"Another?" Kate asked.

"You were out for the first one. In the meantime, don't get your heart rate up, don't get excited."

"You're worried about something," Kate said.

"You had a bullet go through the lower part of your right lung. In order to heal, you had to clot off the wound. But we really don't want that clot getting any bigger than necessary, so they need to make sure it's not growing. They may want to put you on blood thinners. It's not as problematic now as it was a few days ago, while the drains were in, but we want you safe. I don't want to see the look on his face if we let something happen to you."

Kate looked up at Rick, still sound asleep. "Right."

"So don't assume that anything is 'normal'. I want to hear about discomfort, even if it's minor, and I don't want you worrying about what anyone is going to think of you for complaining. Pain is a warning, and we need to know when the sirens are going off."

Kate nodded. "What should I..."

"Stay there," the nurse said. "You're probably fine. But I'm going to wire you back up a little, while we're waiting."

A few minutes later, the nurse left Kate with an oximeter taped to her finger and a couple of electrodes taped to her chest, trying not to let herself tense up and failing miserably.

The fidgeting finally woke him.

She tried to keep her expression light as she said, "Hey."

He looked down at her, smiling, but she watched the expression drain from his face as he saw the new leads. "Fashion statement?" he asked warily.

"Just... they want to run some tests in a bit."

"For..."

"They want to make sure I'm not growing clots," she said.

His face went white. "I should get up," he said.

"No... please don't. They don't really want me to move, and I'm actually more comfortable like this. You can get up when they take me up to the MRI."

"If you need me as a pillow, pillow I shall be," he said. "Think they could fit us both in there?"

She snorted. "I think they'd prefer to just have me in the machine."

"Could be fun," he said. "World's weirdest medical porn."

She started to laugh, then froze at the now-familiar burning, bruised feeling in her chest. "I'm a little freaked, Rick."

"Me too," he said.

"I don't know whether it's just normal healing I'm feeling, the pain, or something going horribly wrong. I'd pretty much dismissed it all as 'gunshot wounds suck and it's going to hurt for a while', but a clot... My grandmother died of a clot."

"Shhhh," he said, his arm coming up and stroking the hairs at her temple. "They're the best here. Clot or no, they can sort you out. And there are a lot worst positions they could have told you not to move from."

He found her free hand with his, and worked his fingers in with hers. Gradually, he felt her muscles relax against him, and glanced at the oximeter readout to make sure that she was just relaxing. It flickered away at 98%, and he watched the second set of numbers measuring her pulse drop down into the 60's as she relaxed. "You're getting plenty of oxygen," he said. "Your lungs are clearly working."

She breathed against him, and he held her hand until the nurse came back a few minutes later to take Kate up to the MRI.

It was worse, she decided, being awake and wondering if she was going to die. At least with the gunshot, she'd been knocked out cold most of the time. But this... she was wide awake and terrified, and utterly, completely trapped.

The bench she was lying on was narrow and hard, and they'd told her not to move, which seemed to make everything itch. A heplock in her right arm led nowhere in particular, she'd been given a bag of contrast medium and told to lie still. Annoying music played in her ears, and she said, "Think they could come up with something a little less muzak for the headphones?"

The music stopped, and Rick's voice came through. "I could tell you a story. They're going to start the test in a minute."

She gave a little smile. "I'd like that. One of yours?"

"I have The Little Prince memorized," he said. "It was Alexis' favorite. I think I'm too rattled to come up with one on the spot."

She blinked sharply, her eyes stinging.

"French or English?" she asked.

"I have the English memorized," he said. "But I can read you the French later if you like."

"S'il te plaît. English is fine for now."

He began as the MRI began its rapid-fire thumping, his voice in the sound-dampening headphones pulling her away from the gunshot sounds of the MRI. "Once, when I was six years old..."

"You skipped the dedication," she said, her voice barely audible.

He grinned, and started over.

Later, in her room, he was still reciting when the door opened. A doctor came in with a tablet in his hand, and showed them the screen. Rick fell silent.

There was one clot, snaking like a dark streak of lightening up from the path of the bullet. The doctor, one of the hospital's, not one of Rick's, seemed neither terribly concerned nor terribly surprised. "We'll start you on Lovenox now," he said. "In a few days we'll get you onto Coumadin. The clot should diminish gradually over the next few weeks. You're far enough from the initial injury that it shouldn't cause too much bleeding. But you're going to bruise."

"I'm already bruised," Kate said. "How dangerous is it?"

"Dangerous, but manageable," the doctor said. "Don't get excited. Don't do anything to raise your heart rate. The good news is that we've got good drugs and good techniques, and your chances are very good. Better than they were when you showed up here."

"The bad news?" Rick asked.

"Clots are nothing to mess around with. If it breaks loose, it could theoretically cause a heart attack or a stroke. But the lungs act as a filter, and this clot, while it could make you short of breath, isn't likely to actually even kill off the lung tissue."

"Dual circulation," Rick said.

"This is a clot in the blood vessels that oxygenate the blood, not the blood vessels that supply oxygen to lung tissues, yes. And it's not even a particularly large clot, she's still oxygenating just fine. Which has a lot to do with her being a physically fit woman in her 30s, rather than an old fart in his 70s. It may add a few weeks, even a month or two to your recovery time, Kate, but it shouldn't have lasting consequences. We will be testing your blood for heritable thrombophilias, but given the nature of your injury, I'm actually pleased there aren't more clots."

He left soon after, and the nurse who'd started the ball rolling came back in with a syringe. Kate sighed, and the nurse said, "I'll need to give it in your belly, do you want him to step out?"

She looked up at Rick, reached out, and took his hand. "He can stay. Will that hurt?"

"They tell people it doesn't," the nurse said, "But it will probably sting."

"More story," Kate said, as the nurse popped a few snaps on the side of Kate's gown and exposed the skin of her abdomen.

As the icy moisture from the alcohol swab dried, Rick said. "But the little prince could not restrain his admiration: 'Oh! How beautiful you are!'"

"That's not where we left off," Kate said.

"I just thought the bit coming up about the tiger's claws was apropos," he said. "And flattery is always distracting."

She grinned, but it turned into a grimace as the nurse pinched her and pushed the needle in. "No claws. Sunsets."

"Sunsets," he agreed, and started back in with his recitation.

Neither of them said anything to the evening visitors about the clot. It was as if voicing it would make it more real, and Kate just couldn't bear to see the look on her dad's face. Kate's grandmother had died of an embolism years back; she knew where his mind would go on hearing the word "clot". Rick watched her not tell them, and decided it wasn't his place. His place was sitting on the edge of her bed, letting her hold onto his hand so tightly that he fully expected her fingerprints to be pushed into his bones by the next morning.

Ryan and Esposito teased them about holding hands, but Alexis shushed them, saying, "Well, I think it's sweet."

"Oh, it's sweet all right," Esposito said.

"Sweet like candy," Ryan said. "I'm going to get cavities."

"You should talk, Honey Milk," Esposito shot back.

It wasn't sweet. It was necessary. Kate sent them away after a brief visit, claiming tiredness. Lanie looked at her strangely, brow furrowed, and hung back as the boys followed Castle's family out.

"You're not telling them something," Lanie said. "You're not telling me something."

"It's probably not a big deal," Kate said. "It's being dealt with. It's not likely to kill me, probably won't even have lasting consequences. If that changes, you'll know."

"Your doctor is on it?" Lanie asked. "Whatever it is?"

"It's under control," Rick said. "We'll call if something changes."

Lanie looked from one to the other, and said, "If you're sure..."

"Lanie, I can't right now, I'm tired. It's... we can talk about it later. I don't want people to worry more than they have to right now, and having you all fretting over things isn't going to change anything."

Lanie frowned, "You're supposed to be able to tell me anything."

"I know, I just... I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it."

"Castle knows." Lanie's voice verged on accusatory.

Rick looked almost apologetic. "I was here."

Lanie looked at him, and said, "If something changes, anything, you call me. Don't even hesitate. Understand?"

He glanced at Kate, who nodded, and then said to Lanie, "Yes ma'am."

The medical examiner left, frowning.

"You could have told her," he said.

"No." Kate's voice was tight. "One of her sisters nearly died of a clot a few years back, a week after a c-section. Unless this gets worse, she doesn't need to know."

"Oh." Rick blinked. "I had no idea."

"You were going to finish that story," she said.

He frowned. "I... I've got the laptop here, I'd rather read something else. We're getting to the depressing part."

"Something else, such as..."

"Such as a chapter from the new novel?"

"If your voice isn't getting tired," she said.

"I'll read until I can't," he said. "If it helps."

"It helps," she said. "But climb in. You're a good pillow."

He grinned at that, and said, "As you wish."

She fell asleep while he was reading, which didn't surprise him, as she'd already done it three times while he'd been reciting The Little Prince. With great care, he set the laptop down on the bed table, and settled in as best he could.

Kate got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. He helped her across the room to bathroom door, and then waited next to the closed door for her to finish. A minute later, it opened, and Kate came out, brow furrowed.

"Something unexpected?" he asked.

"I just feel odd," she said.

He helped her into the bed, and climbed back in next her. "Odd how?" he asked.

"I can't describe it... Just, it felt odd."

"Painful?" he asked.

She settled back into what was becoming a very familiar nest against his shoulder, and said, "No, it wasn't..." Then she froze, and he felt her body tighten. "Rick... ow... oh God..."

His hand was on the call button immediately, as she arched away from him. "What is it? Kate?"

"It hurts," she managed between ground teeth. "Like a knife... On my left..."

"Your left..."

He mashed the call button again, and said to the camera, "Get your ass in here!"

A nurse, a middle-aged woman with frosted brown hair, appeared a moment later and started slapping electrode patches on. "You'll need to move," she said to Castle, and he shifted out of the bed quickly.

Kate rolled onto her back. "This hurts..." She pointed to the lower left part of her ribcage.

"A piece of clot probably broke loose," the nurse said. "Hurts like a sonofabitch when they do that."

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"We're going to put her on oxygen, she's not terribly low, but it will make things a little easier for her. They'll probably keep the Lovenox dose the same. It doesn't change her treatment unless it lands somewhere other than a lung. The bad news is that it hurts like a sonofabitch, the good news is that it's not likely to grow. We'll wire you back up and track your vitals closely tonight. The doc will want them to come ultrasound your heart to make sure the blood flow is good there."

"I'm calling Lanie," Rick said.

"Rick..."

He just looked at her, and she subsided.

The phone rang once, and Lanie was on the line.

"We need you," Rick said. "She threw a clot." He looked at the nurse. "Shouldn't there be more testing?"

"I'm coming," Lanie said, and the line went dead.

The nurse looped a cannula around Kate's head, tucked the tubes behind her ears, and spun a valve. A faint hiss sounded, and cold oxygen flowed. The pain in her chest eased a little, and breathing felt easier, and she suddenly realized that it had been getting harder and harder, insidiously slowly, for days, masked by the background pain of the initial injury.

"We're not doing more testing, other than the ultrasound, because it won't change anything, and the last thing she needs is more contrast irritating her veins."

Twenty minutes later, the door opened, and Lanie stormed in. They could see Javier behind her, but she put a hand on his chest and nudged him back out to the hall. The door closed, and she said, "Did they take it out?"

"Take what out?" Rick asked.

"I don't know," Kate said. "No one asked, I didn't think..."

"Take what out?" Rick said again.

"Her contraceptive ring," Lanie explained impatiently. "You know I don't like those things, you know why, and you've been sitting here for a week post GSW, post surgery, and no one fucking asked if you were taking hormonal contraceptives?" She looked at Rick. "You, out."

"They couldn't have known," Kate said.

"They should have asked."

Rick was standing there, looking slightly confused.

"I said OUT," Lanie said, pointing at him. "Now. And send a nurse in. I'm assuming you don't want me to..."

Kate shook her head.

Realization dawned, and Rick ran out, nearly colliding with the nurse, who was already on her way in with a sealed sterile glove pack tucked under her arm.

"Your boy must be terrified," Lanie said, calming slightly as the nurse appeared. "He didn't even make the obvious quip."

"He's been here the whole time," Kate said. "He's been reciting stories to me all day, to distract me."

"You should have told me." Lanie looked at the nurse. "Vaginal contraceptive ring."

"The tech said," the nurse said shortly, gloving up. "You okay with your friend being here?"

Kate nodded.

"All right then, knees open."

"I could do it myself," Kate said, letting her knees fall to the sides.

"You, my dear, are to be Miss Lazybones for the next day or so. You're not getting out of bed for anything. Bedpan only until the clots are more stable. You'll feel me touch."

Kate grimaced at the mention of a bedpan, and then again as she felt cold gel. The nurse was brisk and professional and had the ring out a moment later.

"You're never using those again," Lanie said.

"I'm supposed to not get pregnant," Kate shot back.

Lanie sounded exasperated. "Well, you're not going to be doing the nasty for a few months anyway, but when you do, you're going to be careful, and it's not going to involve the hormones. If he's half the gentleman I think he is, he's not going to complain about condoms and spermicide."

"Yeah, but I might," Kate said, looking irritated. Then she blinked. "Oh crap. This means periods."

"And?" Lanie asked.

"No, you don't understand. I've been on the pill or the ring or what have you since I was fourteen, because my periods were so bad. I only let myself cycle a couple times a year."

"The blood thinners will help," the nurse said as she wrapped up the detritus from the gloves. "You'll bleed a little harder than you might have otherwise, but it won't hurt as much, and probably won't last as long. And we'll drug you up while you're here if you want."

"Still... In a hospital bed? Not allowed to even get up? I suppose you're going to tell me I can't use a tampon either."

"No, you can use a tampon." The nurse looked aggravatingly amused.

"Arrrgh!" Kate let out a frustrated yell at nothing in particular.

Lanie just looked at Kate. "I know, baby."

"Don't fucking 'Baby' me, Lanie. I liked that method. And I suppose this means I can't ever..."

"You can have kids," the nurse said. "They may not even treat you any differently, or they may give you a low dose of the shots to keep you from having problems."

"You thinkin' about kids?" Lanie asked. "How serious are you two, anyway?"

"Someday, Lanie. I'm thinking about kids someday. You knew that. Quit fishing."

"That man is devoted to you," Lanie said. "It's understandable if you'd be thinking..."

"I just... why does it have to keep getting more complicated?" Kate asked.

"With you two? I don't think either of you has any clue how to handle 'simple'. Thank you, by the way." This last, Lanie addressed to the nurse. "I realized no one had likely checked while we were driving over."

"We?" Kate asked. "How is Esposito, anyway?"

"He's fiiine," Lanie said, grinning. "He's outside, probably grilling your boy."

"So when's the last time either of you slept alone when one of you wasn't on a case?" Kate asked.

"Twelve days ago," Lanie said, without hesitating to count. "Since Roy... Neither of us felt like being alone after that."

"I'll tease you when I'm less tired," Kate said. "Send my boy back in." She looked at the nurse. "Can I at least have my pillow back?"

"If it doesn't hurt worse in that position, and it keeps you calm," the nurse said.

"Your pillow?" Lanie asked.

"Man-pillow," Kate explained, almost sheepish.

Lanie grinned. "You two are adorable. I'll send him in on my way out." She stared at Kate for a long moment. "You... get better. The oxygen cannula, it's really not your best look."

"I know, but what can I do? I don't think they come in black."

"You can get better, dammit," Lanie said. "We were supposed to be thinking about springing you from this joint in a few days."

"You probably still can," the nurse said from the door. "Like I said, the treatment doesn't change. When she goes home depends more on the GSW than on the clot."

"Castle won't let her go home until he's convinced she's not going to fall over dead on his doorstep," Lanie said.

As the door opened, Castle nearly collided with the nurse again, who just shook her head at his haste and said, "She's waiting."

The next day was a difficult combination of fear and boredom. Castle's voice got rough from reading, and she finally made him stop. They fell back on watching old movies on Netflix, and midday a pair of orderlies showed up to install a wider (but not queen-sized) bed. They didn't let Kate move a muscle to get herself into it, but shifted her over like a sack of flour. She looked lost at the edge of the wide, bariatric mattress, until Castle climbed in next to her, braced himself with a flotilla of pillows, and had the orderlies help shift her back to her now-familiar position.

When visitors arrived, explanations for the oxygen were unavoidable, but Kate's father took it better than she'd thought he might. Not one of the visitors commented on the wider bed. She still found it easier to breathe lying on her side, her head propped up on Castle's shoulder, and so there she stayed, while their company buzzed pleasantly around them, sharing takeout.

She caught Martha looking at her with an alarmingly concerned look, and said, "Is it really that bad?"

"Darling, you're pale, and the thing..." Martha waved at her cheek to indicate the cannula, "It rather brings home the whole almost-died bit. Plus, neither of you is being the least bit coy about the fact that you're using my son as a pillow."

"I'm right here, Mother," he said.

"As I said, it's just not how we are used to seeing the indomitable Katherine Beckett. The braids make you look about twelve, and the oxygen makes you look rather consumptive."

"I could change the hair," Kate said. "But my hairdresser is occupied. I'm not feeling indomitable at the moment."

"Don't you worry about it, my dear. Right now it's your job to lie there and look wan, and our job to cluck over you like concerned mother hens. I'm rather hoping it will annoy you back to wellness."

Rick could feel Kate trying not to laugh. "It just might work," she finally said.

"You'll let us know when it's too much?" Alexis asked from her perch on the windowsill.

"I will, sweetheart," Rick said. "But I think the company is a good thing right now. For both of us."

"How much of a setback is this...the clot, that is?" Alexis asked a few minutes later.

Lanie, from a chair on the other side of the bed, said, "Clots are funny. Not ha-ha, but they can be instantly deadly, or slowly debilitating, or really not much of a big deal. And you don't really know until they either kill you or they don't. Right now, the feeling is that because the underlying risk factors have been addressed, it's probably as bad as it will get, and she'll be feeling better pretty soon. But she has to be careful and they'll be watching her pretty closely for a while. But they won't keep her here just for the clot."

The room was quiet while people ate, and then Kate said, "So is someone going to tell me what's going on at the precinct?"

"No." The chorus came from half the people in the room, and her eyes widened.

"Seriously? Just no?"

"We're not talking to you about cases," Esposito said. "In part because you're supposed to be recovering, and in part because we don't know."

"Don't..." Kate looked perplexed.

Ryan said, "Because we both took leaves of absence."

"You can't afford..." Kate started, and then realized that Rick was shifting awkwardly under her. "Rick, what did you do?"

He looked up at the ceiling in studied innocence.

"Rick..." her voice held a warning tone. When he didn't respond, she snapped, "Castle, what the fuck did you do?"

"I... hired them away from the NYPD temporarily," he said quickly. "And you're not supposed to get excited."

"The pay was better," Ryan said. "And the mission more to my liking."

"Mission..." Kate prompted, slowly and reluctant relaxing back against Rick.

"To keep you alive," Esposito said, without apology. "Since you've been here, there've already been a couple of feints, attempts to bribe the staff or interfere with your care. One of them was surprisingly subtle. To be blunt, you need us right now. The staff is good at deflecting outside interest, they were chosen well. But we're the ones who can work at tracking those leads back."

Ryan continued, "And in the long run, the city of New York needs you healthy and whole, and given the choice, we figured this was the better gig. The 12th is in chaos, but they're dealing with it by divvying up the work with some of the other precincts until they can figure out how to function without five of their best people. Once you're back on your feet and we put this mess to bed, we can worry about getting back to normal. Right now, you're more important."

"Tell me you didn't quit your job too," Beckett said, this time to Lanie.

"Oh, I didn't," Lanie said. "But you don't need a medical examiner, thank god, as much as you need a couple of savvy detectives. But I'm not taking the extra hours I usually do. Because what you do need right now are friends."

"So what happens when I leave here?" Kate asked.

"We're working on that," Esposito said. "It might just end up being fun."

"If it's that much fun, I might well take that leave of absence," Lanie muttered.

"Wouldn't hurt," Rick said.

"How big is your house in the Hamptons, anyway?" Kate asked.

"Not big enough, nor close enough to a hospital," Rick said. "We're working on something else."

"Do I get to know?" Kate asked.

"Not until we're there," Rick said. He leaned close and whispered, "Operational security, you know."

"You're really getting a kick out of this cloak and dagger shit," Kate muttered.

He sighed. "Not as much as you might think. It's less fun when the stakes are this high."

"I want my normal back," Kate said.

"Just gotta find a new normal, sweetie," Lanie said. "Summer's coming, and you're going to get a lovely tan somewhere, and catch up on all that reading you've been putting off."

"I just... life wasn't perfect, you know? But it was my life. A place of my own. A job I'm good at, that meant something. People I like working with. A boss..." Kate stopped. "It's never going to be normal again, is it?"

"You can't go back," Martha said. "But I find that moving forward, it's not hard to find an up side, wherever you go."

"You're going to start singing show tunes from Annie, Mother, if you're not careful," Rick said dryly.

"It's a good show. I'd make an excellent Miss Hannigan," Martha said, with a wag of her finger.

"You're too nice to red-headed girls, Gram." Alexis said. "I assume I'm coming with you, wherever you go?"

"It would be safer," Rick said. "But if we can get you through the school year, it would be best."

"School's out in two and a half weeks," Alexis said. "I could stay with Ashley's family. I'm assuming that you won't be here that long."

He opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again. "If they are agreeable and have the room."

"Good, because I've been staying there for the past week," Alexis said. And then, at the look on his face, added, "In their guest room!"

Rick looked at Martha accusingly. "You..."

"Let her go, yes, I did," Martha said. "His parents and I sat down with the two of them and discussed it, and we all decided it would be better for Alexis to be there, when she wasn't here, since she wasn't sleeping, at home."

Kate murmured to him, "You need to spend some time at home."

"I heard that," Martha said, "And he doesn't. He would be of no use to us there. And Alexis is safer off her beaten path."

"I'm fine," Alexis said.

"If you're not sleeping, you're not fine," Rick said.

"I'm already talking to a counselor," Alexis said, "I just feel safer with more people around, and Ashley's been really understanding. And a gentleman, Dad, so don't give me that look. They live really close to the school, so it's just been easier. I've been using the Prius to get us from here to there, I hope you don't mind. We figured it was probably better than risking cabs."

"Richard, you're flopping your mouth like a dying fish," Martha said. "Yes, we'd all like it if things were back to our old normal, but that's not going to happen, and we're dealing with it. You need to be here. No one doubts that. But we watched you try to leap in front of a bullet that someone was very clearly aiming at Kate, immediately after her boss died taking out a band of thugs led by someone you two put in jail, and you've hired a small private army, and it is clear that whatever danger she's in, it could very easily spill out to affect the people around you. So we're taking things seriously, for once, and doing what we need to do to give you the room to be where you need to be. And you're going to shut up and let us."

The room was silent for a moment, and then Lanie started to laugh. "The looks on your faces, you two..." she said. "Martha Rodgers, you and I, we could be such good friends."

"Why does that thought terrify me?" Rick asked Kate very quietly.

"It just makes me tired," she said back to him.

He looked down. She looked so uncharacteristically small. His mother was right, the braids did make her look about twelve, and despite their best efforts to feed her up and keep her muscles stimulated, she'd lost weight, muscle especially. The cannula combined with her pale skin and the dark, dark cirles under her eyes, leaving her looking ghostly. Not ghastly, she was still gorgeous, but his writer mind could not help picturing her the pale woman in white at the edge of the highway, and it was as far from his mind's dictionary definition of Kate Beckett as he could imagine her ever being. In that dictionary, there was a picture of her, gun in hand, heels on her feet, the tall amazon woman, in charge of everything around her. As much as he loved the feel of her body against him, as much as he cherished the privilege of being a soft place for her to land, seeing her tucked up against his side, small and vulnerable, made him want to cry for what had been lost.

Jim Beckett's voice called his attention back to the room. "Folks, I think it's time to call it a night. Katie looks tired."

"I always look tired, Dad," Kate said. "You don't have to go."

"You need sleep. And Rick needs time to process," Jim said.

"We're not done talking about this," Rick said to Alexis.

"Yes, Dad, we are," she said. "You can throw one of your hissy fits later. Right now, Kate needs you, and I'm going to do what I'm going to do, and you're going to trust my judgment, because I've earned it. I suppose you could report the car stolen, or tell me not to use it, but if you're going to try to pull rank right now, just... I don't have the energy to fight with you, and I'm not going to change my mind."

"We'll see you later, guys," Ryan said, hustling his partner out of the room.

Rick frowned, and said, "I don't give a damn about the car."

"Good," Alexis said. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Ready, Gram?"

"Yes, dear," Martha said. She leaned over and gave Kate's hand a squeeze. "Feel better, darling. We will have some fun when you get out of here, I promise."

Kate watched them go, looking bemused. When the room was empty, she looked up at Rick, about to talk to him, and was taken aback by the look of utter desolation on his face as he stared at the closed door.

"She'll be fine," Kate said. "And if you need to spend some time at home..."

She was shocked when he looked down at her, eyes bright with tears he was fighting to keep back. "Oh Rick," she said, reaching up to touch his face, "Sweetie, what..."

"I don't know if I can do it," he finally said, his voice ragged. "I don't know if I can keep it together, keep it all going, take care of them. I can't keep her safe, I couldn't keep you safe, it feels like I keep coming up short, and... whatever I do, it won't be enough. I don't know how to fix this. I don't even know where to start." Tears started to fall.

"Start by helping me roll on my back," she said. "I'll be good, let you do the work. I need to move anyway. I'm told bedsores probably suck."

He obeyed her request reflexively, without hesitation, supporting her with pillows.

"Now, come here," she said, patting her left shoulder and holding out her left arm.

He looked at her skeptically, face still raw with emotion, and she rolled her eyes. "I'll tell you if it hurts. Just try."

He moved down the bed gingerly, shifted close, and placed his ear against her chest, slowly settling in, with his weight resting mostly on his side. Her hand came up and she stroked his hair until he relaxed a little, his head resting a little more firmly against her chest. "You're sure this is okay?" he asked. "You can breathe? It's not bothering the clot?"

"It's fine," she said. "Shhh."

He started to reach his upper arm around her, and then hesitated. "I don't know where your bruises are," he said.

She took one of the extra pillows that seemed to spawn eternally around her, and put it over her stomach. "Put your arm on that."

He let his arm fall lightly across her, and she found his hand with hers. "Comfy?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I'm going to squash you," he said.

"I actually like feeling a bit of weight on me," she said, with a sly grin.

"Damn gunshot wound," he said, but his arm relaxed onto the pillow. He closed his eyes, and said, "Your heart is comforting. It keeps going. Da dum, da dum."

"Never thought you'd get that close to my chest and not make a comment about my boobs," she said.

"I'm trying to control my manly urges," he said. "Not that I feel very manly right about now. And I must say, the whole cannula thing... definitely not my kink."

"Mine neither," she agreed.

"They're lovely boobs though," he said. "I look forward to making their close acquaintance at some point."

"Which one? The left point? Or the right?" she asked, grinning.

"Oh, both," he said, and she felt him relax a little more into their banter. "You know it still works."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Using your boobs to disarm the subject."

"You're still armed," she said, brushing her hand down in the general direction of his hip.

"Yeah, well." He sighed. "I'm not very good at this grownup thing."

"You've been amazing," she said. "It's okay to fall apart a little when it's safe."

"I don't know what safe is, anymore," he said. "And there's a camera up there. And I just... I want to wave my magic wand, make you well, whisk you away to somewhere magic and lose myself completely in you. And there's not enough money in the world to guarantee it. Everything I see myself as, everything I think I'm good at, it all feels like it's gone to shit, and it's not enough to take care of the people I love."

"I know the feeling," she said quietly.

"Will you let me take you away from all of this? At least until you're as healed as you're going to get?" he asked, almost begging, his voice raw and weary.

"I already said yes," she answered.

"I just had a hard time believing it," he said into her chest. He was sounding tired, half-asleep.

She stroked his hair. "When Roy... I... I'm not going to give up the fight forever, but I don't have it in me right now. Running away to some sunny beach somewhere until I feel human again... it sounds pretty good. I don't even know if I can go back to the precinct. It's just... It was who I was for so long, and I'm trying to get my mind around things like running and taking down perps and I know it's going to be a long time before even breathing is easy. And I'm not sure I like the idea of a desk job."

"You could always marry me and stay at home and have babies," he mumbled, and then blinked. "Did I say that out loud? I'm sorry, my filters are on the fritz."

She gave a weak laugh, and said, "Yes, yes you did. And yes, they are."

He glanced up at her, the circles under his eyes deep, but his mouth twisting into a sly grin, "You didn't hit me. Is that because you're too weak to life your arms, or because the idea isn't entirely unappealing?"

"Maybe a little of both," she answered.

His smile widened, and he snuggled back down against her chest. "Good." He was silent for a few minutes, and then said, so quietly she almost didn't hear it, "But don't think about it too much right now. When I propose to you, it's going to be something special."

She felt her body tingle strangely as the words registered, and she stared down at him. His eyes were closed, his face mashed up against her chest, he looked almost asleep. Filters at low ebb, indeed, she thought, and toyed with the idea of calling him on the "when". She took an experimental breath, decided it was okay having him stay there for a while, dropped a kiss on the top of his head, and let herself drift off to sleep.

She woke a few hours later to warm pressure on her left breast. She looked down, and found he was still asleep, one hand cupped around her. She pursed her lips together, amused, and tried not to laugh. But she was going to have to call the nurse and send him out for a few minutes, unless they were willing to let her get out of the damn bed to pee. She sighed, and decided on a tactic.

"Feeling me up in your sleep, Castle?" she said, with feigned annoyance.

He froze, opened his eyes, looked at his hand, and said, "Apparently," and then gingerly shifted his hand to a less personal position. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said.

"Really?" he asked.

"Well, More fun to get felt up by someone who's awake," she said. "Think you can find out if they'll let me out of bed yet to use the facilities?"

He pushed himself up to sitting, and handed her the call button. "I'll step out for a few while you..." He gestured vaguely.

The bedpan, Kate decide, was an evil invention. But the nurse just shrugged and said they would probably let her up the next day. After Kate's indignity was weathered, the nurse left and Rick came back in.

"I can't stand this," she said.

"It won't be much longer," he said. "Another week at most."

"A week!"

He put his finger over his lips, glanced up at the camera, then looked back at her and mouthed. "Two days."

She opened her mouth and then shut it again. Finally she said, "I just... a week."

"Just want to keep you safe," he said. "Talked to an old friend. I seemed plagued by brainy redheads."

Kate processed this for a moment, and then said, "Did she have anything useful to say?"

"She wants to help any way she can. Already did, in fact. She's going to help get Alexis settled for early admission at Yale."

Kate glanced at the camera and then back at him, and frowned.

"I thought we might move near to the school, since she's got her heart set on it, and the medical center is top notch. She can finish high school there. And you know how much she was looking forward to Connecticut. We can drive up there next week. I found a large house..."

He handed her a tablet computer, with a real estate website cued up. She looked at the address. "It's so far," she said. The house on the screen was in Palo Alto, California, less than a mile from Stanford University.

"They think you'll be able to handle it. Specialty air ambulance. Chopper you right out there." He touched the screen and dragged a new page active, which showed a specialty medical jet. The page cued up was "positioning flights."

He flipped back to the real estate site, and brought up pictures of a house. Her eyes widened. "It's too much," she said.

"Think in price per square feet," he said, and she blinked again, noting the sheer size of it. "Can't get anything like that in Manhattan. And I can rent it to Alexis' friends when you've recuperated. It's an investment."

She flipped through the pictures. The house was huge, 7000 square feet huge, with more bedrooms and bathrooms than any single family dwelling had any right to have. With a pool. And a sauna. And a hot tub. Another picture came up and she suddenly knew what had sold him on the space... a large library. A floor plan tab drew her attention, and she touched it. A single ground floor bedroom with private bath just off the kitchen... many bedrooms upstairs, the house was enormous, quirky, half Dutch colonial, half something else entirely, with little Victorian touches.

"But Connecticut?" she asked, playing along.

"It's only a few hours away," he said.

She gestured at the tablet and said, "New toy?"

"Borrowed it," he said. Then he touched the edge of the screen and dragged out a console that made her eyes widen. As far as anyone snooping the wireless might possibly be able to tell, the tablet was browsing Connecticut real estate and helicopter ambulance pages. The sites showing the real estate images she'd been looking at were pre-loaded and encrypted, not being sent over the active connection at all.

"You've been a busy boy," she said.

"I know how to delegate," he said.

"So my dad..."

"He'll be on the chopper with us," Castle said. "He likes the idea of getting away for a while."

"Martha?"

"She said she wouldn't miss it."

"It's been a long time since I lived anywhere but in the city," she said.

"It's temporary. You get better, we'll come home. Think of it as a semester in Kiev. Does the house look okay?"

She nodded. "I just can't imagine..."

"I know," he said. "You don't have to. Just... let me do this."

"You gonna shut up and climb back into bed?" she asked.

He grinned. "You know I love it when you take charge, Detective Beckett."

They allowed her out of bed the next morning. The cannula was gone, the nurses had apparently been turning it down periodically without telling her, and when her oxygenation stayed stable and her breathing didn't get any more labored, they took the tubing away. A day without muscle stim left her wobbly, but the doctor insisted that slow walking was the best thing she could possibly do.

Making the switch from "don't move or clots will kill you" to "you better move, or clots will kill you" was disconcerting at the very least. And her body felt completely alien. She clung to Rick's arm as they walked incredibly slowly, trying not to hunch over around the pain that never truly left her.

"I feel like an old woman," she said.

"You don't look like an old woman." He grinned and then reached down and patted her on the behind. "And you definitely don't feel like an old woman."

"That's not fair," she said. "I can't retaliate."

"Hey, you were the one who said it was more fun getting felt up by someone who was awake."

She tried to suppress her grin, but failed. "So gimpy women in hospital gowns are okay, even if oxygen cannulas are a turn-off?"

"You, upright, walking, breathing and making smartass remarks, Kate Beckett, are a turn-on."

"Good to know your standards aren't high," she said.

"Oh, they're very high. Take the Kate out of that equation, and no dice," he said.

It was pathetic, she decided, how quickly she got tired. They'd managed to get out of the room and ten feet down the hallway when her knees started to buckle. He caught her, steadied her, and someone had a wheelchair tucked in behind her a moment later. She sighed. "How ignominious."

"I love it when you talk dirty," he said, and pushed her back the few feet to her room.

The day seemed to fly by. The evening visitors brought with them an undercurrent of tension and excitement, and the conversation was oddly stilted. Every time anyone said, "Connecticut", there was a strange pause beforehand, as if they had mad-libbed the real conversation.

"Wait, you're all coming?" Kate finally said.

"Not all at the same time," Ryan said. "Javi and Lanie are going first. Jenny and I will come ou...up there in a few weeks, with Alexis, when she gets out of school. We'll overlap a bit."

Lanie said, "I'll need to come back mid-summer, but we figured having a doctor in-house in the first weeks of your recovery would help. To put his mind at ease, if nothing else." She nodded in Rick's general direction.

"You helped her life once already," he said. "Twice, come to think of it. Can't think of anyone I'd rather have there."

"Twice?" Kate asked.

"She was the one who first put pressure on your wound," he said. "While I was still sitting there shell-shocked. And the, um... ring thingy."

Kate blushed a little and said, "Right. Are there enough bedrooms?" she asked.

"Plenty," he said. "You'll see. Next week will be here before you know it."

The next morning, an orderly showed up to take her for another MRI. Everything seemed routine, except that Rick was about to bounce off the nearest wall. The pulmonologist came in to give them the results immediately, as she was coming out of the tube.

"The clots are already starting to dissolve," he said. "If you had one of the more common thrombophilias, we wouldn't be seeing that so soon. But it looks better than I would have hoped for. You still have the larger clot on the right, and there's a tiny spot on the lower left, but they are definitely resolving. The bullet wound itself is resolving as well as we could possibly expect at this stage. You're still going to be recuperating for a good long time, but as long as you are under continuous supervision, I see no issues with a medical transport at this stage. I understand arrangements have already been made for home nursing care?"

Rick nodded. The doctor smiled. "Then let the games begin."

With that, a nurse walked into the room. Kate blinked. The woman was about her height, with brunette hair up in a bun. The woman winked at her, and handed her a set of scrubs. "Think you can walk about 30 feet?" When Kate nodded, the nurse helped her change. Rick turned his back.

A few minutes later, the nurse had her hair in braids, and Kate wore a bun and scrubs, and for the first time in well over a week, a pair of actual shoes. She sat in the wheelchair until the transformation was complete, and Rick said, "I'm going to push her back to the room. You'll walk out the door and take the first door on the left. Someone will be there to help you onto a stretcher. I'll meet you in a few minutes. Can you make it without help?"

She grinned. "I'd better, right? This sounds... like more fun than it should be."

He grinned back. "I know, right?"

Kate made her way slowly out of the radiology department and opened the first door she came to. Lanie was there, her eyes twinkling, her hair done differently than Kate had ever seen it, dressed in scrubs. "Gonna bust you out, girlfriend," Lanie said.

"You guys are having way too much fun with this," Kate said, and let Lanie help her onto the waiting stretcher.

"Javi swears it's necessary, that the place is being watched like a hawk. We're sneaking you out the back and playing shell games until we're in the air. The ruse won't hold long, but all we need is enough of a distraction that they don't figure out you're gone until it's too late for them to get a good tail on you."

"The room monitor?" Kate asked.

"Tapped and bugged two days ago," Lanie said. "You gonna be okay if I cover your face?"

"Can I have a book and a flashlight?" Kate asked.

"Nope. Time to play dead." Lanie pulled the sheet up, and the stretcher started to move.

Kate lay still, her mind whirling, as Lanie pushed her down to the morgue.

They took her out of the hospital in a hearse. She heard Rick's voice talking to Lanie in an exaggerated drawl that nearly made her giggle, and guessed that if they'd taken the damn sheet off her face, she'd have seen him dressed in a coverall with a clipboard as he pushed the stretcher down to the loading bay.

The vehicle was in motion for a few minutes, and then stopped, and the stretcher whisked out and into a waiting windowless van. Finally the sheet was pulled down, and Rick was grinning at her. She hadn't been far off. He was in a dour, cheap, ill-fitting black suit. "Doing okay?" he asked. "We're still only about five minutes from the hospital."

She nodded. "Easiest getaway ever."

"If you only knew," he muttered, as he pulled the van doors shut. They lurched into motion, and he said, "Next stop, medical transport."

There was an ambulance waiting about twenty minutes away. The crew were brisk and professional and didn't seem the least bit fazed by the oddity of taking a patient from an unmarked van. It took her a few minutes to peg them. "Feds?" she asked Rick.

He grinned. "We're not officially going into WITSEC," he said. "But pretty damn close."

Half an hour later, they pulled into a tiny community airport, and loaded her directly into a Gulfstream jet. Inside the plane was clearly set up for medical transport. She was helped over to a more comfortable hospital bed, and a male nurse came over to check her vitals.

"You know what the beautiful thing is?" Rick asked.

"The blue sky and being out of the damn hospital?" she supplied, then looked around. "Well, sort of out of the damned hospital."

"You," he said. "But the beautiful thing about the situation is that this plane, this highly sophisticated tiny little flying hospital, fully staffed with medical personnel... It was going to the Bay Area anyway. It's a repositioning flight. It won't show up on anyone's radar. They flew some guy who had a heart attack on a vacation in Baja back here to get him home. We're just hitching a ride while the flight goes back to California. The company is based in San Jose."

"How long did it take you to set that up?" she asked.

"If it hadn't been this one, there was another possibility a few days from now, but they happen quite often."

"So when do we take off?" she asked.

"Oh, it will be an hour, maybe," he said.

"Can I be out of bed in the meantime?"

He looked at the nurse, who took the blood pressure cuff off and nodded.

He helped her to her feet, and was startled when she stretched her arms up slowly, grabbed his head, and kissed him soundly on the lips. A moment's hesitation only, and he was kissing her back. Then he pulled away and said, "You're not supposed to be getting your heart rate up."

She looked over at the nurse, and asked, "Is my heart rate up?"

The nurse looked amused, and without another word, clipped a pulse-oximeter to her finger. "That'll tell you if you need to come up for air. If her pulse hits 120, stop."

A moment later, the readout popped up at 99% O2, with a pulse of 80.

"Sexy," Rick said, glancing at the wires, before she muffled him with another kiss. They stopped a few minutes later when she started to sway, and the two men helped her back into the bed as the rest of the team showed up. "So what was that about?" Rick asked. "Not that I want to look a gift... no, that's a terrible metaphor."

"Part thank-you, part relief," she said. "So can we talk freely yet?"

He shook his head. "We're not talking about destinations until we're there. The final destination, there, we can talk."

"So much cloak and dagger," she said.

"The less people know, the safer it is for them. We're doing this guy a favor."

As they talked, the nurse was strapping Kate to the bed. He looked over at Rick and said, "You'll need to take your seat soon."

There was a flurry of greetings, then Martha and Jim were settling into a pair of seats at the back of the plane. Lanie and Esposito climbed up the ladded and into the passenger area, made their hellos and got settled nearer to Kate, leaving the seat closest to her head for Rick.

"Feels weird without the rest," Kate said.

"They'll be along soon enough," Rick said.

"You okay with her staying with his family?" Kate asked.

"I think okay is putting it a bit strongly," he said. "But she's right. She's earned my trust. I just..."

"You're going to miss her," she said. "I thought it was interesting, your choice of destination."

He grinned. "If you're looking at a year... it lets me ease her out of the nest a little slower. Two birds, one stone. And the place is seriously awesome."

"Isn't it going to be a little obvious, you buying property?"

He just grinned. "Nope."

"Our redheaded friend?" she asked.

"Something like that," he said, and refused to elaborate further.

It had been a day since she'd taken anything other than oral pain meds, but when the nurse spotted her wincing through the takeoff, a quick conversation with the transport's physician got her an offer of Demerol. She hesitated, then a bit of turbulence bounced the plane and she nodded through gritted teeth.

She woke, barely, when the plane was back on the ground again, in San Jose. She was dimly aware of being transferred to a narrower stretcher and into another unmarked van. Castle and Lanie climbed in next to her, and the rest of their family disappeared into a second vehicle.

"Almost there, sweetheart," Castle murmured to her. She heard him through the fading grogginess of the drug, and nodded.

"Things really have changed between you two," Lanie commented. "She'd have hit you for calling her sweetheart two weeks ago."

"Or kissed him. Or maybe both," Kate muttered. "Why's it so tiring to lie around?"

"Because you're not just lying around," Lanie said. "You're healing. And that's exhausting."

"Gotta get better," Kate said.

"Honey, you are so stoned," Lanie laughed.

"'s the drugs," Kate explained seriously. "Dem... Dem... the stuff... makes me loopy. Morph...um, th' other stuff... was better. Just made me sleep."

"Should be wearing off soon," Lanie said.

"'sokay," Kate said. "Kinda fun." She gave Castle a goofy grin. "You said the M word."

His eyes got wide, and he glanced at Lanie, whose eyebrows had crawled into her hairline.

"Did he now?" Lanie asked.

"And the B word. I 'member." Kate said.

"And which words were those?" Lanie prodded.

"He's gonna propo... pro... you know. Someday. I'm not s'posed to talk about babies for now."

Lanie sat back, arms crossed over her chest, and said, "You and me need to have a talk, writer-boy?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Theoretical topics may have been up for discussion when it was very late and we were very tired. But she's too stoned and it's too soon... and it's really between the two of us."

"I wish it was," Kate muttered, and Lanie fought back a laugh.

"You two... you are never going to live this down."

"Aren't you bound by doctor/patient confidentiality?" he asked.

"My patients are generally dead," she said. "And just because I can't share with the class doesn't mean I have to refrain from ribbing you guys in private."

Kate appeared to have fallen asleep again. Castle eyed Lanie warily for a long moment, and then turned his attention to his tablet computer. He pulled up the floor plan for their destination, and handed it to Lanie.

"I've got you and Javier at the top of the stairs," he said, pointing. "There's only the one bedroom on the first floor, this should be the one with the fastest access from upstairs. Furnishings are sparse for now... there's a bed in there, and Kate's room is fairly well taken care of, but I figured that you two and Martha would want a hand in picking the rest of the furniture."

"What kind of budget are we looking at?" Lanie asked, taking the tablet.

"Budget?" he asked. "Make suggestions. I'm a reasonable man."

She grinned. "You sure about that?"

"I do know better than to hand my mother a blank check," he said. "But once she's off the Demerol, I think I can trust Kate to keep you guys reasonable. And by reasonable I don't mean Ikea, I mean well-made, practical, sturdy, and in good taste."

Lanie was flipping through the tabs of the real estate listing, and suddenly blinked. "Did you buy this house?" she asked, as her eyes landed on a four million dollar list price.

"Sort of," he said. "That is, I provided the money for the house, but the title is held by... well, let's just say that the house is mine, but it would be very difficult for someone to trace it back to me without a whole lot of hand-holding."

"Just how much money do you have?" Lanie blurted out, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, that's none of my business."

"You know, I'm actually not sure," he said. "It varies from day to day, and it's been going up lately, pretty quickly. But in the ballpark of fifty or sixty."

"Fifty or sixty..." Lanie prodded.

"Million," he said. "Once the movie comes out, that could go up quite a bit. If they do more than one..."

"So this isn't just a drop in the bucket for you, but it's not..."

"It's not making more than a small dent," he said. "And technically, being real estate, it's not actually money gone. The location alone..."

"I think the taxes on this place are probably more than some cops' starting salaries," Lanie said. "Four..."

"Oh, I didn't pay four," he said. "It's been on the market for a while. They took two point seven-five, because we were paying cash and wanted it now. But I spent a bit on a house in Connecticut at the same time. That one was in my name."

"You bought two houses to hide her?" Lanie asked. "Just like that?"

"It became obvious to me not too long ago that losing her would break me. I consider it an investment in my sanity," he said.

"You really are going to pop the question to her."

"It's a question of when, not if," he said. "If she can still stand me in three, six months... then yeah, I probably will."

"Even if she doesn't want to stay home and make babies?" Lanie asked.

"That's up to her," Rick said. "She likes kids, she'd be a fantastic mom. I adore kids. But if it was a choice between her, and kids, I'd take her."

"It really is important that she not get pregnant until she's as healed as possible," Lanie said.

"Let me tell you a story, Doctor Parish," Castle said. "Once upon a time, I was a young novelist. I'd published a couple of successful books, and got swept off my feet by a giddy redheaded woman who was a lot of fun to be around, and especially fun in bed. I'd known her a month when she got pregnant, and being the sentimental sap that I am, I proposed the day she told me. By the time Alexis was a year old, her mother was already flitting off to another relationship, but it took me a while to find that out."

"Ouch," Lanie said.

"I'm not done," he continued. "After Meredith left, I did some research. I'm good at research. It's just what I do. And when I get curious about something, I chew on it until I understand it. I was very curious to learn anything I could about how to avoid getting surprised that way in the future. And I will not pretend that I haven't slept with a lot of women since then, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that I have not gotten any of them pregnant. Many of them were not on the pill. When my second wife and I toyed with the idea of kids, she didn't get pregnant, and we spent a couple months tracking her cycles to figure out why. She decided it wasn't worth the bother of fertility treatments, because she didn't really want kids enough to make the effort, but the upshot is that I know enough about women's bodies now that the chances of me accidentally impregnating someone are very, very low. And the last thing I'm going to do is put her at risk just to get my rocks off. The thought of her dying is a hell of a lot more effective than a cold shower. We've got a couple months before she'll be cleared for that kind of thing anyway."

"Which is more than enough time for you to figure out her cycle," Lanie said.

"Exactly. She should be starting any day now, I'm guessing, given when that ring came out," he said.

"I'm guessing by tonight, or early tomorrow," Lanie agreed.

"And she's already used to people taking her temperature every day," he said.

"You will tell her what you're doing?" Lanie asked.

"Of course," he said. "Be rather invasive, otherwise."

"You can't tell me you ran around tracking cycles for every woman you slept with," Lanie said.

"Didn't have to," he said. "Just adding the 'sympto' data as one of the tools in the toolbox." He grinned. "Women's bodies tell stories, and when the story says, 'I'm about to ovulate,' it's a good time to add in an extra shot of spermicide and a really hot bath, as well as the usual barrier methods. Or just find other ways to play."

He looked at Kate. "But the stakes are higher with her. So tracking her cycles, full sympto-thermal, will make it easier to put her mind at ease about it when the time comes."

"She's lucky to have you," Lanie said.

"Other way around," he said, without hesitation.

"'s both," Kate muttered, from the stretcher. "We there yet?"

The van slowed, turned, and then came to a stop. Rick smiled. "Apparently so."

It wasn't a mansion, quite. The garage was big enough for both vans to pull in side by side, and as they came out the side door, Lanie peered over and said, "That the sauna?" A windowed addition to the garage revealed not only a sauna, but an inset stone hot tub.

Esposito whistled in appreciation. They walked around the fence surrounding the pool, and the men guiding Kate's stretcher followed them in the front door. The late May sun was low on the horizon, but there was enough light to see the house towering three stories above them, the immaculate garden glowed where the sun still filtered through the large, mature trees that bordered the street and yard.

"Kate, you have to see this," Lanie said, touching her shoulder.

Kate's eyes opened, and she said, "That's a really big house." Then she smiled. "It's pretty. It sparkles."

"How much of that stuff did they give her?" Martha asked. "And can I have some?"

"You have to admit, though," Javier said, "It does sparkle."

The upper windows were shaped like marquis stones and round diamonds, their divided lights gleaming in the fading sun.

"Is that sun room mine?" Martha asked, pointing to a wide bank of windows on the second floor.

"Yes, Mother," Rick said. They walked up to the front door, and he entered a code on the digital lock.

The entry was wide, and Rick stood at the door, beckoning for everyone to come inside. As the men with the stretcher got up to the porch, he said, "Her room is on the ground floor, behind the kitchen. I'll show you."

"Dude, I thought you'd never been here before," Esposito said.

"You didn't see the listing," Lanie said. "The ground floor bedroom is that way." She pointed through a wide open space that could have been a dining room if it had contained something more conducive to eating than a massage table and treadmill. They could see the kitchen dimly beyond. Lanie looked and found the lights, and turned them on as Rick led the stretcher back through the kitchen and laundry room to Kate's bedroom.

"Holy cow," Esposito said, looking around. "It's huge."

"Our rooms are upstairs," Martha said. "Let's go see!"

One of the drivers said, "Shall we put your bags here in the foyer?"

"Thank you," Lanie said. "Did Rick catch your tip?"

The man laughed. "Taken care of."

They climbed the wide hardwood staircase. At the top, Martha veered left and Lanie turned right, dragging Javier into a long bedroom. "Sparse," he said. The only furniture was a cushy-looking queen-sized bed.

He flipped up the duvet, and blinked. "They make sheets that thick?" he asked, eyeing the mattress.

Lanie nearly purred. "Apparently so," she said. "We'll get more furniture soon. Apparently he thinks it will entertain Kate to shop with me and her mother."

"She going to be up to that?"

"We'll be doing it via computer," Lanie said. "At least the preliminaries."

"We have our own bathroom?" he asked.

"Place has SEVEN bathrooms," she said. "Crazy."

"This might not be such a bad gig," he said.

"You thought it might be?" she asked. "I figured he'd take care of us pretty good."

"C'mere," he said, flopping onto the bed.

She looked at him, and grinned. "Later. I need to check on my patient." She blinked. "Still weird to say that."

"You ever want to be a doctor to the living?" he asked.

"I like pathology," she said. "It's a puzzle. Living people... Kate's different, because I care about her, and she needs someone capable of basic care in the event of an emergency right now, and I can do that. But I like solving puzzles, and bodies are mysteries to be solved. Living people tend to be... messier."

He stared at her as if she'd grown another head. "The things you muck around in and you think living people are messy?"

"There are a lot of things you can't diagnose until you can cut someone open. Which isn't always compatible with them still living when you're done. I like closure."

"I think I get it," he said. "Homicide tends to be pretty final. Our vics have usually already paid the highest price they're going to, so we just have to sort out the details and bring someone to justice. Now domestic violence calls, thoseare messy."

"I'll be back up in a bit, if you don't come down first," Lanie said.

Martha pointed Jim to the corner bedroom. It was a square, windowed room, quite spacious, looking out over the front yard. "Looks like we'll be sharing a bathroom," Martha said. Her bedroom, at the back of the house, could be seen through both open doors of the Jack-and-Jill bathroom.

He gave a little smile. "Johanna and Katie trained me pretty well, I know enough to put the seat back down when I'm done. I'll lock your door if I'm in there, if you'll do the same."

"Fair enough," Martha said. She looked at his room with a critical eye. "You're definitely going to need more furniture," she said.

"Oh, I'm fine." He set a small suitcase down next to the bed. "Pretty view," he said, looking out the windows. "So many trees."

Martha looked down and said, "I'm hoping that pool is heated."

"If it isn't now, he'll have it heated within the week for Katie," Jim observed.

"Likely," Martha agreed. "I've never seen him so... wrapped up in anyone. I hope she doesn't break his heart. He isn't usually vulnerable, but with her? I don't think there's anyone in this world who can hurt him the way she could. Not even me."

"Kate loves him," Jim said. "It takes her a while to open up to people, but him... I don't think she's really ever felt safe since her mother was murdered. I'm not even sure she ever has been safe since her mother was murdered. But he makes her feel safe. There's something there... he gets down to who she really is, and she never let anyone do that after her mom..."

Martha reached out a hand and put it on his arm. "You must miss her so much."

"Anyone who says you get over losing the love of your life," Jim said, "they lie. But eventually you keep living. You don't get over it, you just... keep putting one foot in front of another until the grief isn't the only thing in your life any more." He looked at Martha sharply.

She pressed her lips together and blotted her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just... lost someone recently. And then Kate... and... It's not... I wasn't married to him, he was my high school sweetheart and we'd reconnected... and he died the day after he asked me to marry him."

Jim reached out and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze.

"I was going to tell him no," Martha said. "But he died in his sleep. And... It's just..."

"Still fresh," Jim said.

"Still fresh, and seeing the look on Richard's face when Kate... He may be forty, but he's still my little boy, and it terrifies me to see him that vulnerable. I love Kate dearly, but it's still scary."

"I don't regret loving Johanna for a minute," Jim said. "Her death broke me, shattered me into little pieces, and I will never find all those pieces or put them back together, but I still wouldn't trade a minute of my life with her in order to avoid that pain."

"I think that's part of why I feel so...stupid about Chet," Martha said, sitting down on Jim's bed. "Because I was too afraid of the pain to just say yes and let him have that last joy. I left him hanging."

"Can't change the past," Jim said. "But we can cherish the present." He frowned. "That was rather trite, wasn't it?"

Martha chuckled. "I think I'm going to go find my bag," she said. "And bother my son about the furniture. I don't know what he was thinking."

"Probably thinking you'd want to pick it yourself," Jim said, offering her a hand up.

She stood, and grinned. "Now that would be more fun," she said.

The bed in Kate's room was easily twice as wide as the hospital beds she'd been in. Castle found the controls and elevated the head, then waited while she was loaded off the stretcher. She stretched, patted the mattress and said, "Cozy. But not enough pillow."

He chuckled, and thanked the men as they took the stretcher out. "There are half a dozen pillows, Kate."

"You're a much better pillow," she said, seriously.

"And you're still kinda stoned, aren't you?" he asked.

She sighed, and then grinned lazily. "Yeah. Wanna make out?"

He laughed. "I'd be taking advantage," he said. "And I really don't want to hurt you. Seriously, we need to put a note in your chart. No Demerol. Ever. That stuff is supposed to have worn off hours ago."

"Her liver clearance is probably a little slow," Lanie said from the doorway. "She just needs to sleep it off."

"Can' sleep without my pillow," Kate said, looking coyly at Rick.

Castle pulled out his wallet and handed Lanie couple of bills. "There should be some delivery numbers on the fridge," he said. "Would you?"

"Bribery, Castle?" Lanie asked. "Don't take advantage of my girl when she's that out of it."

"Trust me," Rick said, "Lack of ability to consent is a real turn-off."

"I'm perf'ctly capable of consenting," Kate said. "C'mere."

"To snuggle," Rick said. "No funny stuff."

"But you're so good at funny stuff," Kate said.

Rick sighed. "I am so doomed."

"You want pizza or Mexican?" Lanie called through the open doorway.

"Mexican," said Esposito, coming into the kitchen. "We're in California."

"You pick," Rick said, kicking off his shoes and climbing across the bed to settle in next to Kate.

"Mexican it is." She pulled a phone out of her pocket and frowned at it. "Wish you could have gotten us burner phones in the model I'm used to."

"Sorry," Rick called back.

Esposito took the phone, tapped a couple times, and then handed it back to her, now showing an actual dial pad on the touch screen. She gave him a half smile and dialed the restaurant, standing in the door between the kitchen and the laundry room.

She glanced back through the open door, and fought back a giggle, as Kate coquettishly snuggled up against a flummoxed-looking Rick Castle, running a finger up his chest.

"He's got no idea what just hit him, does he?" Esposito said.

"None whatsoever," Lanie agreed, and then focused her attention on the call as someone finally picked up the line.

She was trying to unbutton his shirt, and failing completely. Rick batted her hands down, and she pouted at him.

"Kate," he said, a note of warning in his voice. "Much as I would love to have you undress me, this isn't happening while you're still loopy."

She pouted at him, and then said, "I think I need to pee."

He scooted off the bed, and walked around to help her up. "It's just a few steps this way," he said. "Can you manage in there by yourself, or should I call Lanie?"

"Jus' help me, 'sfine," she said.

He pushed the bathroom door open, and was pleased to note that the service he'd hired to set up the house had already installed the toilet seat boost, rails and shower chair. She stood there for a moment, and said, "My pants are confusing me."

He suppressed a smile, and asked, "You sure you don't want Lanie?"

"Just help me sit, Cas'le."

Studious not looking, he pushed her pants down and helped her sit, then stepped out.

A moment later, he heard her voice, startlingly sober, exclaim, "Shit!"

"You okay in there?" he asked.

"I'm bleeding," she said.

He had the door open before the words fully processed, to see her looking at him in indignant horror. Then it registered, and his eyes flew upwards, looking anywhere but her. "Oh. Sorry. You need something for that?"

"I... change of clothes. Um..."

"Tampon?" he asked. "I can get Lanie..."

"And compound the indignity?" Kate asked. "Yeah, I'll need a tampon."

"Indignity inschmignity," he said, stepping into the room, still not looking at her, and opening the medicine cabinet. He found what he was looking for, and handed it down to her, still not looking. "I've been buying feminine hygiene products since I was eleven."

"Something you're not telling me?" she said, amusement creeping into her voice in spite of herself.

"Mother used to send me out for them. I got over that one a long, long time ago." He stepped back out of the bathroom, leaving the door cracked. "Teenage daughter. Two ex wives. Trust me, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Definitely going to need more clothes," she said. Then she yelped, and he started to open the door, then thought better of it. "You okay?"

"I just... god. I need to get clean, and the scrubs... I tried to pull them off, and my chest... Shit!"

He was back in the bathroom, still not looking at her, deftly pulling her pants the rest of the way off. She stared at him, and sighed. "It was actually the shirt I was having trouble with. I desperately need a shower."

He blinked past her bare knee, which he wasn't looking at, and said, with no inflection in his voice whatsoever, "You want me to take your shirt off for you?"

"Yes. No. Um." She sighed. "Please, I can't do it myself."

He turned and tucked the bloody pants into the sink, turned on the cold water for a moment, then turned back and said, "Put your hands on my shoulders."

"You getting me naked isn't supposed to be like this," she said, lifting up her arms.

He shrugged. "We do what we have to do."

She was silent as he pulled the scrub top gently up and over her shoulders and head, and then reached around to unhook the plain cotton bra, still studiously looking anywhere else.

"Ready to move to the shower?" he asked.

She nodded, then said, "Yes," when she realized he still wasn't looking at her. He caught her under the elbows and helped her up, keeping a hand on her while she stepped into the tub enclosure. She sat gingerly on the bench, and he unhooked the shower head, unwound the hose, and handed her the business end. She pointed it away as he turned the water on, tested it, then sent the water to the hose.

"Warm enough?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"I'll turn around," he said.

She looked up at his back, then shifted to clean the blood away from her thighs.

A minute later, she said, "Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you help me wash my hair? Reaching up... it hurts. And the shower head..."

"Of course," he said, rummaging in the medicine cabinet. He waved a bottle of shampoo in her general direction. "This okay?"

"How did you know?" she asked.

"Lanie," he said.

"Is that from my apartment?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Most of the contents of your apartment are on their way to Connecticut. We didn't want to risk missing a tracker."

"You might be one of the most paranoid people I've ever met," she said. "I suppose this means I don't have real clothes here?"

He turned and shot her a look, then looked away again quickly when he remembered she was naked. "Please give me some credit," he said. "We got duplicates of the things Lanie thought would be practical. Plus some new stuff that should be a little easier to manage. I've taken care of things."

"Sorry," she said. "Hair?"

"Right." He turned, and took the proffered shower head, anchoring it back up on the wall and soaking his jacket in the process.

"You should take that off," she said.

"Another ploy to get my shirt off?" he asked.

"Castle!" The annoyance in her voice was plain. "It's bad enough that I'm sitting here naked, and that you won't fucking look at me, and that so far, this evening could go on the gag reel of Katherine Beckett's top most embarrassing moments, but it's going to be a hell of a lot worse if I end up covered with the dye that's starting to drip from that cheap undertaker suit."

His eyes widened, and he said, "I'll be right back. You okay?"

She sat in the warm spray, and said, "Yeah. Fine. Hunky-dory."

He pulled the shower curtain shut, and disappeared.

Five minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and she heard him say, "So, now I've got to ask... you want me to look at you naked?"

"I... it's not supposed to be like this," she said. "I'm not supposed to be sitting here, helpless. You should be falling over yourself to see me in the shower, not looking anywhere else but at me. I feel about as sexy as a pile of cat vomit, and I hate it."

His hand reached in past the curtain and aimed the shower head toward the wall. The shower curtain drew back, and he stood there, in his boxers and bare feet, looking down at her. "Trust me, Kate. You're a hell of a lot sexier than cat vomit. Now, do you want me to wash your hair?"

She looked up at him. "Boxers?"

"Me climbing in there naked is a no-win situation right now," he said. "Either you're wondering why I'm not turned on, or I'm turned on and we can't do anything about it. So boxers it is. Male anatomy is damned inconvenient at times."

She cracked a smile in spite of herself. "Wash my hair, Castle."

"As you wish," he said, and began working the braids out of her hair.

A minute later, he was rubbing the shampoo into a lather. Her head dropped forward as he massaged her scalp. "I'm so tired of being tired," she said in the general direction of the floor.

"I know, sweetie." He reached over and snaked the shower head back down. "Tip."

She leaned her head back, eyes closed, and he brought the shower around to get the soap out of her hair. "You are stunningly beautiful," he said. "And when you're feeling better, you can bet that I'm going to show you exactly..." he paused to bring her hair together down her back, "... exactly how much you affect me."

He hooked the shower head back up, and said, "Conditioner?"

She nodded, and then wobbled a little. He sat down on the edge of the tub next to her, and said, "Lean on me."

She rested her forehead on his shoulder as he massaged the conditioner into her hair. "Long day," he said.

She nodded against him. His arm came around to stabilize her as he reached back for the shower head again to rinse the conditioner out. He brought the long hank of hair down her back forward and said, "Wash your back?"

She was still for a moment, and then nodded, so he handed her the shower head and reached past her for the soap. She relaxed against him as his soapy fingers worked at the tight muscles of her shoulders.

"Tell me if anything hurts," he said.

"Everything always hurts," she said. "But what you're doing feels good." She put the arm closest to him up around his shoulders, to give him better access to her mid-back.

He worked his fingers slowly, kneading, down her back, avoiding her damaged rib. "You cramping yet?" he asked.

She nodded, and he found her sacrum, massaging gently but firmly from the small of her back, out to the flare of her hips. Then he shifted, set the soap down, and took the shower head from her, brought it around, and adjusted it. "Tell me if this is too much," he said, directing the now pounding spray at her back.

She made an incoherent groan and relaxed against him.

"I'll take that as a no," he said, chuckling.

"I'm trying to figure out how your wives could have been stupid enough to ever give you up," she said into his shoulder.

"I always wondered that myself," he said. "To be fair, I'm better at this now than I was then. And in the long run I left them. For good reason."

"Still," she mumbled.

He grinned into her damp hair, and said, "We should get you back to bed."

"That would mean stopping," she said.

"I'll rub your back in bed," he said.

"Deal," she said.

He fumbled behind him for the shower controls, then reached for the hook behind the door, where a towel was waiting. She sat, watching him as he dried her, brisk on her hair and back, gentler, almost reverent as he ran the towel over her front, letting it fall to cover her lap.

He was staring at her chest. Not at her breasts, she realized, but at the angry pucker of the bullet entry near her sternum, the smaller, neat incisions, closed and pink at her ribs, where the laparoscopic tools had been inserted. He reached out, not quite touching, and said, "It was so close, Kate."

She caught his hand, and brought it up to lay flat over her heart. "I'm still here."

He looked up at her, and gave her a soft smile. Then mischief flickered across his face, and his grin turned impish as he said, "And you have lovely, lovely boobs, I must say."

"Just help me get back to bed, Castle," she said, trying to sound annoyed and failing.

"Yes ma'am," he nodded, and helped her stand, wrapping the towel around her.

"Do I have clothes?" she asked.

"In the bedroom," he said.

As she stepped gingerly over the edge of the tub and they made their way into the bedroom, she said, "Never let them give me Demerol again, please."

"Wasn't planning on it," he said, helping her to turn and sit on the bed. He moved over to the closet, flipped through the hangers, pulled something out of a shelf organizer, and then came back over to her.

He crouched down and said, "Feet."

She stuck out her feet, and he slipped a pair of simple black panties over them, then followed it with a pair of soft knit grey pajama bottoms. She wiggled her toes against the fabric and said, "What is that stuff?"

"Bamboo," he said, bringing the pants and panties up over her knees. "Up."

She stood enough for him to pull the pants up over her hips, and he wrapped a kimono top made out of the same slightly silky, stretchy stuff around her upper half, and pulled the towel out of the way. "Look ma, no hospital clothes," he said, helping her sit. "One braid or two?"

"One," she said.

He found a comb in the drawer, and the bands he'd removed earlier in the bathroom, and then clambered on the bed behind her.

"A girl could get used to this," she said, as his fingers separated her hair into braidable chunks.

"As well she should," he said. "I figure some day I'm going to be laid up, and you'll have to braid my hair."

She snorted, and winced. "I don't want more narcotics right now," she said. "But I think I'm going to need something..."

"I'll get Lanie as soon as I've got this... there." He snapped the band around the end of her braid, and tossed it forward over her shoulder. "Time to lie down."

She let him ease her back down into the bed, relaxing gratefully onto the soft surface, head of the bed still elevated.

"You two all right in there?" Lanie's voice came through the closed door.

Rick scrambled over to the closet, opened the other side, and stepped into a pair of sweats and shrugged a t-shirt on. "Come on in."

"Dinner's here," Lanie said, opening the door. "Did you have a shower?" she asked, looking at Kate.

"It was necessary," Kate said. "Got something for cramps?"

"I can't believe you let her take a shower alone," Lanie said to Rick, looking upset.

He coughed slightly, and her eyebrows went up, registering his change of clothes and damp hair. "Oh really?" she said.

"It seemed like the most expedient thing at the time," Kate said. "It was... not optional."

"If you say so. The home health nurse is here to draw some labs. We're supposed to bridge you to Coumadin today or tomorrow. And it's dinner time. And you'll need your enoxaparin shot after that. I'm guessing the Demerol finally wore off."

Kate made a face. "Lanie, please tell me I can take ibuprofen."

"Not my first choice," Lanie said. "For short-term use, naproxen would be better, but if we're going to do that, no way are we starting you on Coumadin today. It's pushing it to do the naproxen with the Lovenox as it is."

"Cramps, Lanie," Kate said. "And I'm tired of narcotics."

"How's the other pain?" Lanie asked.

"Hurts, like always, but it's background. The cramps are going to make me bite someone."

"I think I've got Aleve in my purse, sweetie. Let's get your labs drawn, and then we'll take care of it."

A young woman came in with a phlebotomy kit, and Kate held out her arm obediently.

Being out of the hospital meant less interruption. And less noise. And the lack of a camera in the room... It hadn't occurred to her, Kate realized, that Castle had slept in his clothes for her for a week and a half, until he stripped down to his boxers to climb in next to her after the evening chaos finally subsided.

Curling up against his bare skin was new. And pleasant. And even better when his hand slipped down behind her, inside the waistband of her pants to spread, warm and solid, across her aching lower back.

"Mmmm," she purred against his chest, her hand straying to splay over his bare skin.

She could almost feel him smile. "Better?" he asked.

"' could get used to this," she mumbled, dropping a small kiss against the bare skin so close to her mouth.

"Easy, girl," he said. "You're still on the inactive reserve."

"The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak," she said.

"Did you know that if you translate that into German and back into English," he said, "it ends up as, 'The ghost is ready, but the meat is soft'?"

She slid her hand down, and he yelped. "Doesn't feel soft to me."

"Kate, please... It's an involuntary response. We can't."

She moved her hand, and buried her head against his shoulder in frustration.

His hand worked gently on her back. "I'm glad you want me," he said. "And you know I want you too."

"I'm used to being on a more even keel," she said. "More in control. I know we can't. It's just been a while and I'm finally off the damn narcotics and out of the hospital and you're here and you smell good."

"I could sleep upstairs," he said.

"Don't you dare."

"Yes'm," he said. He lay there for a long moment, and then pulled his hand away and said, "I'll be back in a minute."

She watched in the dim light coming through the windows as he padded across the carpet to pull his sweats back on. He disappeared for a few minutes, and came back grinning, holding a small device in his hands. He slid it around her wrist, and it beeped once.

"What's that?" she asked as he climbed back into the bed.

"Heart rate monitor," he said, looking pleased with himself. "Set it to go off if your heart rate hits 130."

"They said 120 on the plane."

"They were being extremely conservative," he answered. "Lanie said 150 was your theoretical maximum safe level right now for very short episodes."

She stared at him. "And just what did you ask her?"

"I asked her to set the monitor at a level that would let you feel a little more free to move, but not so high that it would let you overdo."

"When did you even have time to get that?"

"There's a tub of medical supplies in the front room that the home health people dropped off when the nurse was here. All sorts of gadgets. There's a defibrillator even, but you're not allowed to need it. Hence the heart rate monitor. C'mere."

Hesitantly, she slid up against him, then relaxed into the now-familiar position, her leg up across his thighs, her arm across his chest. "Did you have something specific in mind?" she asked.

He chuckled, vibrating against her cheek, and she grinned. "I always have something specific in mind, but I usually worry that if I tell you, you'll hit me," he said.

"Might hit you if you don't tell me," she shot back.

"Well, that all depends," he said. "On how much liberty you're willing to let me take."

"You mean apart from you seeing me naked and giving me a shower?" she asked.

"My dear Kate," he said, "that wasn't taking liberties. That was helping a friend. Now taking liberties, that's more, how shall we say, along the lines of what you did a few minutes ago."

Her mouth went dry. "You asking if you can feel me up?" she finally managed.

"I wouldn't put it that way," he said. "Mostly because I'm a writer and I could never make it that simple. Feeling up implies a self-gratifying quick grope in the dark. Which is not what I had in mind at all. I'm thinking that it might be... therapeutic... for you to have a little stress relief."

"Is that what the cool kids call it these days?"

"Measured endorphin release?" he suggested.

"Copping a feel?"

"Please, I'm better than that," he said. "And it would be more like feeling a cop."

"You really know how to put a girl in the mood," she said, but he could feel her struggling not to laugh.

"That's just breaking the tension," he said, and she felt the bed shift and hum as he thumbed the controls to flatten it a bit. She felt him move, and then he gently slid out from under her, helping her ease onto her back. He reached over and turned on a light on the side table.

He put his hand on the tie of her kimono, and said, "May I?"

She nodded, watching him.

"Here are the ground rules," he said. "You let me do the work. You tell me if anything, ANYTHING hurts. You stay relaxed. And you trust me. Deal?"

She nodded again, and her breath caught as he almost reverently untied her shirt, but left it closed.

"I'm going to be checking the monitor every now and then. It's evil, but necessary," he said.

She brought her hand up against her shoulder, showing him the monitor.

"Good," he said, and then he was kissing her, gently, thoroughly, and the whole exhausting, embarrassing day disappeared.

It took him a good forty minutes to discover that her peak heart rate during orgasm was only about 110.

She subsided under his hands, nuzzling against his hair as he smiled against her shoulder. "You are a patient, patient man," she said.

"Wasn't going for a land-speed record," he said. "Besides, that was only using a tiny, tiny portion of the usual toolbox. When one restricts oneself to manual tools and only a portion of the canvas, it's still possible to create a masterpiece, it just takes longer. But I'd call it a successful scientific exploration."

"Ooo baby," she intoned. "You gonna be okay?"

He snorted. "Please. I've spent three years coping with being in your proximity without you helping me deal with the inevitable response."

"Yeah, but now I might actually want to," she said.

"We had a deal. You let me do the work," he retorted. "You'll get your turn. Just not tonight. How do you feel?"

"Relaxed," she admitted. "Sleepy."

"Pain?" he asked.

"Cramps better. Clot about the same. GSW achy, but not worse than it's been. Ability to cope: restored."

"Good," he said. "Mission accomplished."

She woke to sun streaming in the windows. A plum tree, heavy with faded blossoms, was visible against the bright blue sky. Rick had sprawled away from her in the night, and she shifted experimentally, pleased to note that while the usual aches were there, rolling over didn't cause the immediate sharp agony that had marked the days prior. Her soft top fell open as she shifted across the bed, she didn't bother closing it as she fit herself in against his back.

He mumbled something, and she grinned, sliding her hand down his bare skin and under the waistband of his boxers. It fit nicely around the curve of his ass, she decided. He arched sleepily, backing into the contact, and she gave a playful squeeze.

He froze, and she slid her hand around to his belly. "Morning, sunshine," she said.

"I think I'm having the best dream," he said.

"Funny," she said. "With your imagination, I thought your best dreams would be a little more ambitious."

"I had this dream that Kate Beckett woke me by groping my bare ass," he said.

"I thought about groping something else, but wasn't sure you could handle it."

"I handle it all the time. I'm not sure I can handle you handling it, though," he said. "Especially not before I've had a chance to pee."

"Spoilsport," she said.

"Naughty, naughty girl," he said, sliding out of the bed and walking around to the bathroom.

"You have no idea," she called after him.

"Like hell," he shot back. She heard the sound of running water, which continued for a surprisingly long time.

He appeared a few minutes later, his hair askew, and asked, "And how are you feeling this morning?"

"Better," she said. "I want to get out of bed."

"I could make you breakfast," he said.

"Don't we have to have food for that? I'm assuming something other than delivery enchiladas."

"We have groceries," he said. "The basics, anyway. Certainly enough for me to make you some eggs and bacon."

"Not pancakes?" she asked.

"With Esposito in the house? I make pancakes and he'll never let me live it down."

She laughed. "Bet you five he's already out there making pancakes himself. You did give them a room together."

He looked thoughtful, and said, "No bet." He opened the closet and pulled out a pair of jeans, stepping in to them. "Real clothes for you today?" he asked.

She looked down at the soft pajamas she was half-wearing, and said, "Got something as comfy as these?"

He looked through the closet. "I think I can come up with something," he said.

A night's sleep had done her a world of good, and she was able to handle the bathroom without help, right up until she went to pull up her pants. He must have been waiting just outside the door, because he was in with her in a moment when he heard her swear. "Might as well put these on instead," he said.

"Jeggings? Seriously?" she asked.

"Hush," he said. "Jeggings wish they were this comfortable, or so I'm told. But let's get your top changed before you get up."

He'd brought in a soft, front-clasp bra, and helped her into it. Over that, a button-down knit top, light weight, but just fitted enough to be flattering. He slipped the band off her braid and finger-combed her hair out, loose around her shoulders, and then helped her stand up, bringing her bottom layers up in a single, deft motion.

And the pants were comfortable. They looked more like real clothes than they had any right to.

She turned and looked in the mirror, and said, "I look almost human. I don't suppose there's makeup..."

He pulled the mirror back to reveal the medicine cabinet, and she started to reach up, and then winced.

"Just tell me which ones you want," he said, standing close enough for her to lean against.

"Eyeliner," she said. "Mascara. The lighter lipstick. Concealer, foundation. Don't want to get fancy, just want to look the rest of the way human."

"Your hands going to be steady enough to apply it?" he asked.

"How much practice do you have?" she asked.

"I'll get Lanie," he said, grinning as he found the cosmetics she had asked for.

"So yes on hair, fashion and feminine hygiene, but no on makeup?" Kate asked, amused, as she walked back into the bedroom and he helped her sit.

"By the time Alexis was old enough for makeup, she was old enough to do her own." He grinned. "And the idea of Gina letting me anywhere near her face with a pointy object... " He set the makeup down on the side table. Then he startled. "Oh! I have something for you," he said, rummaging through a suitcase next to the bedroom door. He stood up, and came over. "Thought you might want these."

Her breath caught as he slipped her father's watch around her wrist, and then deftly hooked the necklace with her mother's ring behind her neck. Her hand went to the necklace, and for the first time in forever she felt dressed. She smiled up at him, and bit her lip. "Thanks."

"I've been hanging on to those since your surgery," he said.

"Feels like I might have half a chance of being me again," she said.

"I'll see if Lanie's up."

He opened the door, and a delicious smell wafted in. He peeked into the kitchen and came back looking vaguely scandalized.

"Your father is making pancakes," he said.

"Dad makes great pancakes," Kate retorted. "And it doesn't mean what you idiots think it means."

"He's making pancakes WITH MY MOTHER," Castle reiterated. "They're laughing."

"Grow up, Rick," Kate said. "I'm sure it's nothing. And even if it is something, so what? They're grown-ups."

"If my mother married your father, we'd technically be step-siblings. Don't you find that just a little creepy?"

She laughed. "They're making pancakes, Castle, not planning a honeymoon. Dad hasn't so much as gone on a date since my mother died. I highly doubt that even your mother's feminine wiles could break through that wall in a single day."

"You don't know my mother," he muttered.

"Lanie? Makeup?" she prodded.

"Right," he said, and braced himself before going back out toward the kitchen.

Lanie came in a few minutes later, and grinned when she saw Kate sitting up and dressed. "Girlfriend, you look almost human."

Kate gestured at the makeup and said, "Get me the rest of the way, pretty please? Apparently I'm still too weak to have my arms up that long. And applying liner with shaky hands..."

"Not too weak to get dressed," Lanie observed. "Or did Rick..." She paused, and then laughed. "You... you're blushing. Do I take it that heart monitor was put to good use?"

"I'm... taking the fifth," Kate said.

Lanie sat down on the bed next to her, and said, "Can you turn to face me?"

Kate shifted, turned, and then grinned. "Yep."

"All right, hold still."

Lanie applied the makeup efficiently. "You're just lucky I have sisters," she said. "After all the rest, I'm surprised your boy didn't do this for you too."

"Apparently there are some things that women just don't ask guys to do for them," Kate said.

"I can see that. Did he tell you your dad made pancakes?"

"They're just pancakes, Lanie."

"Martha made bacon."

"It's none of my business," Kate insisted.

Lanie put the finishing touches on, and said, "Want to look?"

"Help me up?" Kate asked.

"Of course." Lanie braced herself and helped Kate leverage up to her feet.

"Strange doing that with someone shorter than I am," Kate said.

"Getting used to a certain tall-and-sturdy writer?" Lanie teased.

"Yeah," Kate said, with a slightly dreamy smile.

"Oh girl, you got it bad."

Kate looked at her reflection in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. "I look like me."

"You need to gain about ten pounds of muscle, but otherwise, yeah," Lanie agreed. "Want an elbow to go to the other room?"

"Anyplace to sit out there? I didn't notice on the way in."

"If this house were any smaller, the place would be fully furnished already," Lanie said. "But with all the rooms, it's a little sparse. He's got a recliner for you all set up in the therapy room."

"Therapy room?" Kate asked.

"Should be a dining room, but by the time he gets done with it, someone will be able run a PT office out of this house. There's a temporary table set up in there for us to eat at, with your cushy throne at the head. He said in a few days, we'd have something more permanent for eating in the living room, and the therapy room will be all exercise equipment, massage tables, and mats. He's serious about you getting better."

They walked slowly out to find the others. Kate was surprised to find that the room on the other side of the bedroom door was actually a laundry room. "I thought we were right next to the kitchen?"

"You are." The next door led into an airy, modern kitchen with a huge gas stove.

"God," Kate breathed.

"I know, right?" Lanie said.

Jim turned from the stove, and grinned to see his daughter up. "Katie, you look fantastic!" He looked ready to throw his arms around her, but hesitated.

"You can hug me, Dad, just... gently. And up." Kate said, leaning in to his gentle squeeze.

"Darling, you do look human this morning," Martha said from her perch at the counter. "Have some bacon."

"Once I'm sitting," Kate said. "Appearances can be deceiving."

They moved into the dining room, and Kate sat gratefully in the overstuffed recliner. Lanie reached down and pressed a button, and a motor whirred as the foot of the recliner slid upwards.

"Where'd Rick go?" Kate asked.

A moment later, Rick came through the far door of the dining room, with six paper coffee cups balanced in two trays. He looked enormously pleased with himself as he set them down on the long folding table in front of Kate. Then he fussed at the arm of her chair, and flipped up a tray. "Your coffee, madame," he said, setting the cup in front of her with a flourish.

She grinned, and said, "I love you, you know."

He looked completely gobsmacked for a moment, and then grinned back, bent over, and gave her a kiss.

"Ew," Javier said, walking in. "Get a room."

"I have a room," Rick said. "Lots of them in fact. Including this one." He bent back over and gave Kate an exaggerated smooch. She laughed, and swatted at him.

"You brought me coffee, but you're not letting me drink it," she said.

He sighed, and said, "Breakfast?"

She nodded, and he disappeared into the kitchen.

"You look better," Javier said to Kate. "Do you feel better?"

She nodded. "I think I'm all the way up to 15%."

"That high?" he asked. "Yesterday I would have pegged you at about five."

"Closer to three," she said. "It was a hard day."

"Hey, but life is good now," he said. "We're in sunny California, with all the amenities, nothing to do but kick back and enjoy."

"And the excruciating physical therapy that they're going to start on me any day now," she said.

He shuddered. "Don't remind me. I hate PT."

"Talk to Ryan since we got here?" she asked.

"Yep. Jenny finishes the school year at the same time as Alexis, so they're all coming out after that."

"What does she do, anyway?" Kate asked. "I never thought to ask him."

"Teaches second grade, what else?" Javier said.

"Yeah, that fits," Kate agreed.

"So has anyone given you the rundown on our new identities?"

Kate blinked. "New..."

"Temporary. Apparently your counterpart in the FBI was able to set something up with Rick, and we aren't really here."

"How the hell did he talk her into that?" Kate asked.

"He funded it, and he gave her some of the details on your mother's case, and apparently she's treating it as a very sensitive matter that probably has federal implications. Very much on the Q.T. until we manage to get more concrete information. Because he took the funding issue out of the equation, she's been able to help us a lot. When we get enough information to pull the trigger on the whole thing, we're going to have federal backup. If it's big enough, he might even get some of his money back."

"I can't believe that she actually let him do that," Kate said. "She's taking a huge professional risk."

"You apparently impressed her," Javier said. "And she had some bad words to say when she found out you'd been shot at Roy's funeral. The body count alone makes this a federal case, let alone the kidnapping conspiracy. And of course there's Armand. Anyway, she and Castle agreed that keeping it out of the funding office and out of official WITSEC was probably safer for all of us until we know more, but to get good IDs... "

"So who are we?" Kate asked.

"I think... I'd better let him tell you," Javier said.

"Tell her what?" Rick asked, setting a plate of pancakes and bacon down on Kate's tray, and pulling up a chair.

"Identities," Javier said.

"Oh, right. How about after breakfast?" Rick said, taking an oversized bite of pancake off his own plate.

Kate eyed him suspiciously. "How about now?"

He forced the bite down. "I'm still Rick, I'm just Frederick Alexander. Mother is Marta Alexander. Your dad is James Baxter. Lanie is Elaine Perez. Javier is Xavier Perez."

Kate raised her eyebrows at Javier. "Oh really?"

"Jordan suggested that it would make things simpler if anyone was hurt if everyone present had a 'next of kin' in the area," Javier said. "Lanie's putting up with it."

"Putting..." Kate shook her head, amused. "Tell me that Alexis isn't Alexis Alexander."

"We decided to go the other way. Cassandra... Cassie Alexander. That way she's likely to respond, whatever we call her," Rick said.

"And me?" Kate asked.

"Katya..." he paused, as her face went white. "Your dad suggested it."

"Mom called me that. So Katya Baxter?"

"Actually, Katya Alexander," he said.

"Funny, I thought it was going to be spectacular when you proposed," she said dryly, pressing her lips together. Her eyes glittered, and he couldn't quite get a read.

"It was a nightmare trying to get information when you first got shot," he said. "It took a hell of a lot of pushing, and your dad, and outright bribery, not to mention a few threats, to finally get them to let me in."

"It wasn't pretty," Javier agreed. Lanie, Jim and Martha came in with plates and sat down at the table as they talked. Lanie put a plate in front of Javier, who beamed up at her.

"So yeah, according to the new identities Jordan helped us get, we're married," Rick said. "If you have a problem with that, I'm sure we can sort something out."

Kate stared at her plate and then said, "No, it makes sense. And you couldn't tell me earlier..."

"Because we breathed not one word of it anywhere we could be overheard. And your room was ground zero for monitoring. And yesterday was just busy."

She pushed a piece of pancake around on the plate, a thoughtful look on her face. "When did you get a chance to talk to Jordan, anyway? You were with me..."

"There were a few minutes here and there. I had the boys bring me a burner, took it elsewhere to make the first call."

Kate looked amused. "You've been waiting your whole life to pull something like this... caper."

He grinned. "It has its upsides."

"The cool toys?"

"When you're well enough to climb the stairs, you'll see."

"Motivation?"

"Trust me," Javier said. "With what he's planning for the third floor, you'll want to get your strength back as fast as you can."

"So eat your pancakes," Rick said. "They're therapy."

At that, she laughed, and was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't as sharply painful to laugh as it had been. She made a show of taking a bite.

"You're forgetting something, dear," Martha said to Rick, holding a slice of bacon like a quellazaire before daintily nipping the end off of it.

He looked at her, vaguely baffled, and she pointed at her finger, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh!" he said, and fished a box out of his pocket. "For the cover," he said. "If you care to wear it when we're out of the house..."

He slipped a simple gold band onto her ring finger. Her mouth went dry. "Sure," she said, and took a sip of coffee. "You going to be wearing one too?"

He pulled a second ring out of the box and put it on himself. "Voila."

"I'm so moved," Javier said.

"You gettin' me one of those?" Lanie asked Javier, who suddenly looked like a deer in headlights. Lanie laughed at his expression, and Rick tossed a box over to Javier.

He set it on the table, and looked at it as if it were some poisonous snake arching to strike. Lanie rolled her eyes and took the rings out.

"So how are you going to keep your deranged fans from recognizing you?" Kate asked.

"California classic," he said. "Hat, sunglasses, a dull drawl and 'Oh people are always telling me I look like that guy.' It helps that this is not my usual stomping ground. And that I don't actually have to leave the house much."

She snorted at his terrible southern accent. "You're going to go stir crazy."

"Him?" Martha said. "He's a homebody at heart. You're the only reason he was out and about so much the past few years."

"I'm very good at keeping myself amused," he said. "Hopefully I'll be good enough at keeping you amused too."

"Oh, I don't think we'll have any worries in that department," Kate said, and took a bite of pancake, grinning around her fork as he spluttered his coffee.

Private Therapy: One

On the rare occasions she'd let herself imagine things going farther with Castle, it had always played out in her head very differently, a clashing of titans, a wrestling match, a competition. But not this... Not her lying passive next to him as he ran his fingers along her skin like a musician playing a line of fragile wine glasses.

Oh, it felt good. There was something completely decadent about being not even allowed to reciprocate. And as light as his touch was, as leisurely as his approach seemed, it was clear that he knew exactly what he was doing. But she wanted to touch and grind and rut and lose herself completely. She wanted...

His lips moved from hers, and found her ear, and neck, and she couldn't help herself, she let her hands come up, to rest as lightly on his arms as his fingers were on her shoulders, her arms, He didn't protest, and she didn't push, just savored the warmth, the solidity of him so close. Then she felt the flicker of his tongue, and she couldn't help the low moan that escaped. She could feel his lips curl against her neck, felt him bring her arm with the monitor up into view and then let it go again without missing a beat. Her hand landed in his hair, her fingers curling around his head as he trailed a thin line of cool behind his warm tongue down to her collarbone. He hesitated, and she whispered, “Please.”

“Shhh,” he hushed against the top of her breast. “Easy.”

When his mouth found her nipple, she had to fight not to arch into the contact, but he seemed to know, and pressed in instead. She groaned as he circled, and nibbled, and teased, and then finally, mercifully, sucked, his hand coming up to her other nipple to tease it too. When her hips started to move, his hand came down, to hold her still, resting firm and solid on her hip. He dallied with her breasts for what seemed like an eternity, until her breath started coming faster.

His hand came off her hip, and she showed him the monitor before he could even reach for her hand. He chuckled, and his fingers returned to her hip, but this time, to slide just under the waistband, featherlight and teasing as his fingers circled in time with his tongue against her breast. She tensed reflexively as he moved lower, remembering the tampon, and he pulled his head away from her breast long enough to say, “I know. And I know you're probably dry as a bone because of it. Just trust me.”

Her response was a frustrated moue and a whimper, and he grinned as his lips returned to her nipple, his fingers to their gentle tease of her skin. She forced herself to relax under his touch, a hand in his hair, one finding its way down to his arm, needing the contact.

Finally, finally his hand moved farther, and he began a gentle, building pressure that wasn't quite like anything anyone had ever done to her. He avoided friction, going instead for an almost massage-like firm touch, covering her labia, that she couldn't resist grinding into. The build was slow, but there, and he shifted again, rising, bringing his lower arm up, keeping the persistent pulse against her core with his hand, shifting until he could tease one nipple with his mouth and the other with his free hand.

He paused only once, as she started to tense under him, and said, “Show me.”

She brought her arm up to show him the monitor, and he grinned and redoubled his efforts.

When her release came, it shocked her, the build had been so slow, but he'd done something with his teeth and something else with a finger and shifted just enough to send her over the edge. It was a curiously muted orgasm, but he didn't stop until she lay limp under his hands, and the sense of release was profound.

Not a competition. Just him, taking care of her, in a way that was so very, very him. But with a delicious hint of what might come later. And she smiled to herself at the pun, and resolved to drive him utterly, completely insane. Someday. When she could move again.

Things got busy, quickly. Lanie gave the morning shot of blood thinner after breakfast, and while the stinging subsided, Kate and Martha pored over web pages of furnishings. Kate finally had to beg off, exhausted.

In the mid afternoon, Lanie woke her from a nap for a therapy session. A rehab team had come to the house, to evaluate and create a plan for physical and occupational therapy. It was a surprisingly painful process, despite no actual therapy being done. There was a good forty minutes of gentle and not so gentle poking, prodding and pulling, frequently punctuated by, "Does this hurt?"

It usually did. Rick took the therapists aside and asked for equipment recommendations before they left.

The session left Kate shaky and exhausted, and she had to cling to Rick's arm to get back to the bedroom. He snagged his laptop off the kitchen counter as they passed, and climbed into the bed next to her without being asked. She fell asleep almost instantly, lulled by the persistent clatter of the keyboard, and didn't wake up until dinnertime.

She managed to get up long enough to eat a late dinner and get her shot, but Lanie and Rick firmly escorted her back to bed immediately after.

"Tired of sleeping," she muttered, settling into his arms.

"I know," he said. "Sleep anyway."

She was already out. He gingerly brought the laptop around, and managed to write for a few minutes, but her warmth against his chest lulled him, and he finally gave up and fell asleep half an hour later.

She was at the funeral, talking, when she heard the sound, felt first the impact of his body hitting hers, then a bullet tearing through his body, throwing them both.

She rolled on top of him, hyperaware of the smell of the grass crushed beneath them, of the acrid blood-smell, too familiar, found herself looking down into his face, watching the lights go out as blood gushed from what was left of his shoulder. She shook him, her throat raw with screaming she couldn't hear, and turned, to see the crowd falling in a popping rain of bullets. In the acute, zooming dream-vision, she could see each of them falling, each of them dying, all of them looking at her, their dead eyes accusing her, time running out with their blood on the grass, leaving her the only one alive.

She turned back to Rick, his body still beneath her, and tried to force life into him, to make him breathe again, words falling constantly from her lips, until she finally heard his voice.

"I know baby, I know."

His arm was snug around her, and he was crooning to her, trying to sooth her, as she sobbed onto his whole, intact shoulder.

"I was there," she finally managed to get out. "Only you took the bullet. They all did. I watched you all... Don't die for me. Promise you won't die for me."

"No one's going to die," he said. "Not here. Not now."

"I don't understand them," Kate said. "The more bodies they make, the more bodies they have to make. How the fuck can we stop them?"

"We can't, not right now," he said. "But we will. I promise."

"I'm so tired of death," she said.

"Shhhh," he whispered into her hair. "It was a dream. They didn't win. They may have chased us off for a while, but they haven't won. I won't let them."

"It's not about my mother anymore," she said.

"I know," he said. "They have to be stopped. We just have to do it the right way. We know they are patient. So am I. And we have resources, more resources than you've ever had before. More resource than I've even had. Your job is to get better, get well, and then we're going to take them apart. Because this can't continue."

"I just... I can't lose you," she said. "I can't."

"You don't have to. I'm not going anywhere."

In the quiet darkness, she found his lips with hers, ignoring the aching, pulling twinges in her ribs to reach up and touch his face, his intact shoulders, the living, breathing wholeness of him solid under her.

"Take my top off," she said.

He protested. "You're in no condition..."

"I know, dammit. I just need... contact. Skin on skin."

His hands moved quickly, slipping the pajamas away from her shoulders and off her arms, untangling it and flinging it away from them into the dark, then gently helping her settle onto his chest, thumbing the controls to bring them a little more upright, until they found the place where she fit, draped over him, legs stretching down between his, ear on his chest, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart and the constant waves of his breath.

"You in pain?" he asked.

"Not enough that I want to move," she said. "Comfy?"

"Comfy enough," he said.

"I always thought I was the strong one," she said, her cheek pressed against his skin.

"You will be again," he said. "It's kind of nice to take turns. But next time it's my turn, just tell me. This whole getting shot business is for the birds."

She smiled into his skin in spite of herself, and let the sound of his breath drive away the last of the nightmare.

When she woke in the morning, it was to pressure against her hip. She chuckled, and said, "You're a very lumpy mattress."

"Wasn't lumpy when you lay down on me," he mumbled. "Not m'fault."

She started to sit up, but the combination of still-weak muscles and injury caught her short of being able to move more than an inch. He shifted a little under her, half asleep, his hips rocking a little against her.

She wanted to bang her head in frustration, but she was afraid that it would hurt something more.

"Little help here?" she asked, and his eyes flew open.

"You okay?"

"I appear to be a little stuck," she said.

"Not such a bad place to be stuck, is it?" he asked, his hands coming up to stroke her bare back. She relaxed against him reflexively.

"It's a frustrating place to be stuck, actually," she said. "My body just made it very clear to me that there's no way I can take advantage."

"Pity," he said, gently, reaching over to flatten the bed. "I'll roll you off, hang on."

She waited for the motor to do its work, and let him roll her gently onto her left side.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked.

"Stiff. Sore. Tired," she said. "Like I desperately need a shower."

"We can do that," he said. "You know, the occupational therapist told me something yesterday."

"Yeah?" she asked.

"She said that it would be likely that you would have bad days and good days, and that the day after therapy would usually be pretty rocky. They're starting every other day. So today is just a day of rest."

"I want to get to work," she said.

"And right now, that means you work one day, heal the next. Pretty soon we'll be working up to two days on, one day off."

"I thought yesterday was the day off," she said.

"After the stuff they put you through?" he asked. "I saw how hard that was for you. Today... Let's get you into the deep tub."

"I don't think I can walk out there," she said.

"You don't have to," he answered. "Shower first. Then breakfast. Then a nap. Then the deep tub. I'll carry you out if you need me to."

She winced, remembering the last time he'd carried her, and he quickly added, "Or we can use the wheelchair."

She nodded. "Can I breakfast in here?"

"Of course," he said. "Lanie picked up some free range eggs and some really good cheeses. I was thinking omelets, maybe some hash browns..."

"Mmm." She closed her eyes. "Maybe in a few minutes."

"Tell you what," he said. "I'll make breakfast. You can eat it in bed. I'll help you shower whenever you're up to it."

She was already out. He looked down at her, half naked and completely vulnerable, and gently pulled the sheet up to her shoulders. The gift of her being open to him, trusting, vulnerable, it wasn't lost on him. But he couldn't help but long for the Kate Beckett who'd drawn him in first, strong, powerful, and utterly out of reach.

"Someday," he said under his breath, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Someday, the best of both worlds."

The water was heavenly.

A few hours later, he brought her out of the house in a bathrobe, in the wheelchair, and slid down the privacy shades of the addition that housed the hot tub. He brought the wheelchair over to the edge of the tub, locked the wheels, and said only, "Stay. I'll get you in."

He dropped his own robe, and she was startled to see that he had nothing on at all. "Naked?" she asked, keeping her voice light.

"It's only polite," he said, untying her robe and pushing it off her shoulders. "Since you are. And it's a hot tub."

He stepped down into the pool, and moved in front of her, bringing an arm under her knees and one behind her, and then lifting her as gently as he could, to settle her in the warm water.

"Not as hot as I expected," she said.

"You need to keep your temperature under 102," he said. "And your heart rate down. So we set it for as warm as Lanie thought you'd tolerate for a long soak."

She stretched a little in the water, and her eyes widened. "Oh my god," she said.

He smiled. "Easier?"

She stood, the water coming up almost to her neck. She took a step, moved her arms, and then grinned as widely as he'd seen her smile since the shooting. "It doesn't hurt to move."

"Easy," he said, stepping down into the deep well at the middle of the pool with her. "You could overdo without knowing it. Your muscles still have to work against the water."

"But I can breathe," she said, closing her eyes and letting her chest expand, the water lifting her breasts away from the injured rib, supporting her arms, steadying her balance. "God, Rick..."

"We can definitely add this to the daily routine," he said.

"Daily routine, hell," she said. "I'm never coming out of here."

"You'll prune," he said.

"I'm sure you'll find some solution for that," she said, opening her eyes and finding him within arm's reach. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and with a grin, her legs around his waist.

"Oof," he said mildly, smiling, and then closed his eyes as her mouth found his neck. "Um, Kate?"

"Shup," she mumbled against his skin. "I'm busy."

"I'm a dead man," he muttered.

"I dunno," she said, nibbling her way up to his ear and sliding an arm down between them. "You feel pretty alive to me."

*

Getting out of the water, nearly an hour later, wasn't nearly as fun. Gravity pulled at her, her body felt as if it had lost all coherence. She managed to climb up the steps, leaning heavily on him, and sit back down in the chair, but it was clear that she was done for the day.

"Dinner in bed," he said.

She looked up at him, and couldn't help grinning. "You look... relaxed."

He looked back down at her, bemused, and said, "That, my dear, is entirely your fault."

"Turn about, fair play, yadda yadda."

"Someday you're going to tell me about learning that particular technique," he said.

"Or not," she said. "A girl's gotta have some secrets."

"Hmmm," he said agreeably.

"No argument?" she asked.

He gave her a goofy grin. "That would be foolish of me, wouldn't it?"

She laughed until it hurt.

As soon as he got her back into bed, sleep tugged her unrelentingly down into the depths. She was barely able to wake enough to eat dinner a few hours later, drifting off mid-meal and mid-converation with Lanie.

Rick smiled as he took her tray away, saying to Lanie, "Alexis used to do that. Babbling away and eating, and then boom, out cold, forehead-first into her peas. Then again, she was about nine months old at the time."

"Considering our girl started out weak as a newborn, I'd call that progress," Lanie said. "Just don't tire her out that way again."

"It wasn't up to me," he said. "Trust me."

*Private Therapy: Two

“Are you sure you are up to...” Rick trailed off as she took him firmly in hand.

“I'm thinking about it,” she said, grazing her teeth across his neck. “I'm thinking it's my turn.”

“But...” He found himself at a loss for words, as the blood rushed away from his brain.

“Shhh,” she said. “What was it you said to me? Right. You let me do the work, I'll tell you if anything hurts, and trust me.”

“I just don't want to get you over-tired,” he said.

She brought her legs down, trapping him lightly between her thighs as her toes found the bottom of the tub, and said, “I feel better right now than I've felt in forever. Let me play a little? Please?”

He groaned, and buried his face in her neck. “We still can't...”

“Duh,” she said. “I know. I have an idea.”

“You know your ideas always turn me on,” he muttered. “Why should this be any different?”

“It's a very good idea,” she said, crossing her ankles tight and letting herself drop a little deeper into the water, just to create friction.

His hand found her ass and he couldn't help grinding against her, “You're making this very difficult,” he said.

“No, I'm making it very hard,” she shot back, and grinned. She looked around the pool, and pointed to the steps. “I think I want you to sit there,” she said, releasing him completely and drifting back a little.

He gave her a slightly wild look, and she raised her eyebrows. “Trust me?”

He backpaddled to the step, watching her the entire way, and she nodded. “Top step, please.”

He sat, and watched as she moved easily through the water, staying low, immersed, water up to her chin. “You're sure you feel okay?” he asked.

“Give me a minute,” she said, and slid her hands between his knees. “Don't fight me...”

He let his knees drift apart to her gentle pressure, and she put a hand up on his chest and nudged him gently. “Lean back, Rick. Don't hit your head.”

He shifted backwards, propping himself on his arms, watching her as she came closer, with a devilish grin playing across her mouth.

“I believe,” she said. “It's time for you to have a little... what was it you called it? Stress relief?”

“I'm feeling very stressed right now,” he said, staring at her as she gingerly slipped her arms up over his thighs, letting her body hang in the water.

“Have to see what I can do about that,” she said, and ran a finger down his cock, lightly, teasing.

“Huh...buh... aah... Kate....” He was dimly aware that he was rapidly losing the power of coherent speech, but it disappeared entirely when she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, looked at it thoughtfully, and then wrapped her lips around the head.

His head dropped backward, tapping the supporting bar of the handrail, and she chuckled around his cock, then pulled back and said, “I did tell you not to hit your head.”

He didn't seem damaged, so she dropped her head back down, and drew him back in. She could feel the tension in his thighs, feel that he was fighting his natural reaction to thrust at her, and she lazily ran her tongue from the base to the tip, then sucked her way back down again. One of his hands came up, fingers threading into her hair, but not pushing, not pulling, just contact, as she slowly, teasingly, and without letting her body move much, drove him completely insane.

He managed to gasp something about her coming up for air, and she stopped long enough to say, “Rick, I have a nose to breathe through. Trust me.”

The pleading buck of his hips drew her back down to him, and as he started to tighten, she held him firmly, sucked him as far in as she could take him and still breathe, and maintaining that suction, swirled her tongue until he finally let go.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he finally managed to say. “Are you okay?”

He looked down at her, to find her grinning like a Cheshire cat. He laughed weakly. “I'll take that as a yes.”

She slid away from him in the water, still smiling, and beckoned. He slid in after her, his hands going to her ass as he kissed her, her legs wrapping back around his middle. “When you're better,” he said, “when we can really, really play...”

“I'm really hoping that you're planning on fucking me stupid,” she said into his ear.

“Stupid and Kate Beckett don't belong in the same sentence. On the same page, even,” he said. “But the things I want to do with you...”

He started to reach down between her thighs, and she put a hand down to stop him. “That was my turn,” she said. “And I am a little tired.”

“I can take you inside,” he said.

“Not yet,” she said. “It feels good out here. Just... hold me up.”

She was a featherweight in his arms, in the water, and he shifted over to one of the benches with her wrapped completely around him, and they rested in the water that way for a long time, her lips quiet against his neck, his nose pressed against her damp hair, their hands drifting easily and without purpose over wet skin, just for the sake of touching.

Kate woke early the next morning to an empty bed. She frowned, and looked around in the dim blue predawn light. Castle was sleeping in sweats and a t-shirt in a wingback chair, his feet propped on the foot of the bed, his head cocked back, his laptop askew on his lap, cords stretching over to the wall, the screen casting an odd blue glow on his skin. He looked... weary.

She fumbled for the bed control, and used it to sit herself up. The bathroom was a necessity, but she didn't want to wake him. Getting to the edge of the bed wasn't a problem, and she sat there, her feet on the floor, getting up the gumption to discover whether she could stand up without help.

Balance, Kate, she thought. You can do this.

She shifted her weight over her feet carefully, keeping her torso straight, and was pleased when she managed to get to her feet without too much ceremony. The sheer level of deliberate planning involved annoyed her, but she managed to get into the bathroom without falling. The abundance of rails in the bathroom proved a blessing, and she maneuvered herself to the raised toilet without catastrophe.

She was rather shocked to discover that her period had already ended. One less thing to put up with, at least. But one more way in which her body had become something different, something she was no longer sure she understood.

She stared down at her pajama pants, which had slipped to the floor, frowned, tried to get her mind around picking them back up, gave up and kicked them off completely, nudging them in the direction of the hamper with her foot. It irritated her, leaving them there, but if she'd been able to pick them up, she'd have been able to put them back on. And the stabbing sharpness that always seemed to accompany trying to reach down wasn't, at that moment, worth it.

She was a little shakier, standing, but not dangerously so. She stepped slowly around to the sink, and caught her reflection in the mirror. Face drawn with pain, tired circles. For once she agreed that she'd lost too much weight, despite their best attempts to ply her with rich foods. Her hair hung lank around her face, and she pushed it back in annoyance. That was worth the twinge. She'd ask him to braid it later. Or she might not have to, since he seemed bound and determined to anticipate her needs.

She walked slowly back into the bedroom. He was asleep still, and she frowned, wondering why he was in the chair, not the bed. She didn't know whether it was the distance he'd imposed or the fact that she was starting to let herself need him that was more irritating, but climbing back into bed alone held no appeal at all.

She leaned for a long moment against the dresser that had been delivered the previous day, considering her options.

He stirred, reflexively catching the laptop as it started to slide off of his lap, and opened his eyes. They went immediately to the empty bed, a moment of confusion clear on his face until he found her standing next to the open bathroom door in only a kimono top. He quirked an eyebrow at her, glanced at her bare legs, and she shrugged.

"Pants fell down. Floor was too far away," she said. "You coming to bed?"

"Want help with the pants?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I was trying to figure out why you were sleeping in the chair."

"You fell asleep during dinner," he said.

"And that means you have to sleep in a chair?" she asked. Her body betrayed her by swaying a little, and he was up and at her side in a moment, helping her over to sit on the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, and returned with her pants.

"I just..." He crouched in front of her, helping her back into the pajamas, and then stood to help her get them the rest of the way on. "I was working, and fell asleep."

"You've been working from my bed for a week," she said. "What changed?"

"You were really, really tired," he said, helping her bring her legs back onto the bed.

"You're dodging the question, Rick. Did I develop cooties?"

"No." He pulled the light blanket up.

Something in his tone caught her. "You're angry about something," she said. "Are you angry at me?"

"What?" His rejoinder would have been convincing, except that it was a beat off, a little slow. She'd been in too many interrogation rooms to miss it, and from the look on his face, he knew it too.

"You are," she said, wonder and irritation blooming in her voice. "Okay, Mr. Castle, so tell me."

He wasn't looking at her. She felt herself slip reflexively into that space normally reserved for coaxing confessions out of suspects, and was too tired to fight it. "Should I guess? Twenty questions?"

"Kate," he said, a little bit warning, a little bit pleading.

"How about you just tell me what's on your mind, Rick?" It came out harsher than she intended, more raw, more sarcastic.

"That went really well the last time we tried it," he snapped back.

She swallowed hard, closed her eyes, took a deep breath. "Please," she said, this time quiet. "I don't want to fight with you. I'm just trying to understand. We've been so close... the distance caught me off guard."

"It's not you," he said, and then amended. "Not exactly."

"Then what?" she asked, keeping her voice quiet. No pleading. No whining. The last thing she wanted was to sound needy. Needing help was one thing, sounding needy was...unacceptable.

"I love you," he said. "And I want you well. And you pushed yourself too hard yesterday, for me. And I don't need to get my rocks off that bad. And it just felt... I thought if I wasn't right there, it might be a little easier. I don't need the reciprocation right now. I don't really want the reciprocation right now, as amazing as you are at it, not if it's going to take that much out of you. Your health is not worth a blow job. Not even an awesome blow job."

"I hate not being able to give back," she said, her voice raw. "It kills me, that it's all flowing one way right now. I just wanted..."

He sat down next to her, and drew her into his arms. "I know, I really do. But Kate it's not one way. It may look that way to you, but in the grand scheme of things, we're just balancing out the scales. They were tipped the other way for a damned long time. You have no idea how much you've already given me, every single day, for as long as I've known you."

"Well, except for the times I kicked you to the curb," she said.

"Nah, because those are the times I used to write," he said. "Every single day, Kate. Even now. Even wounded, you are a gift. Maybe even especially wounded, because now I finally get to take care of you for a change."

"You always took care of me," she said into his t-shirt.

"As much as you would let me, well, and a little bit more than you'd let me, some days," he said, smiling. "But you have no idea, do you?"

He stood up, pulled his t-shirt off, and padded across the grey carpet to the other side of the bed. He climbed in, slid over next her, and patted his shoulder as he flattened out the mattress. "C'mere," he said. "I want to tell you a story."

Bemused, she tucked herself up against him.

"Once upon a time," he said, "I was just going through the motions. Writing wasn't fun anymore. I had all the toys in the world, and none of it seemed to really matter. Women flocked to me, and I just couldn't bring myself to care. And then I turned around, and there you were. And aside from my daughter, you were the first real thing that had happened to me in years. You made it worth getting up in the morning, worth going out into the world, worth taking risks. You made it worth living again. And that's not even mentioning the sheer increase in wealth I've had since I met you, a significant percentage of which can be directly tied back to the fact that I know you. But beyond all that... I was jaded when I met you, more jaded than I can possibly express, and you... the idea that, at my age, I could fall in love, and not just fall in love, but find..." he hesitated, and she looked up at him.

"Find..." she prompted.

"My soulmate," he said, softly. "I'd given up on the very notion of it, the very idea that such a concept really existed."

She felt the air leave her completely, and wondered if she'd ever breathe again. Then realized she was, actually, still breathing after all. Her hand slid up to touch the stubble on his cheek, to trace the skin around his eyes, and he caught it, pressing a kiss against her palm.

"So when I say that you should not underestimate what you've given me, Kate Beckett, I mean it with every breath in my body. And no, I don't want you tiring yourself out just to prove that you can give me pleasure. That has never, ever been a question."

There was finally enough air in her lungs for her to speak, and only really one thing she could say. "I love you."

"And that's all I need," he said. "The rest can wait."

Later that day, she made it out to the library before her therapy session. A large, polished wooden desk dominated one end of the room, boxes filled with books sat in front of the built-in shelving, but there was no artwork on the walls. The space looked very much like a place he would eventually fully inhabit, although it was easily three times as big as his office back in the loft, with dark wood shelving and clean, masculine lines. He gestured to a narrow leather armchair, and said, "I figured that would be a good place for you to read."

The chair looked as if it had been sized to her, exactly, and she suspected, on running her hand over the leather, that it probably had. He brought up a little control fob, and showed her how to control the chair.

One button raised the feet, another lowered them, but a third actually brought her up to a standing position. One more kindness that would give her just that more independence.

"I didn't want you to feel trapped," he said, as he demonstrated the feature.

She settled back down, and he fished around in a box, finally coming up with a floppy manuscript of Heat Rises. "Some reading," he said.

She grinned. "You know what I like. What would your publisher say?"

"That it can only be improved by early input from my source," he said.

He pulled a small side table over, in the same dark wood as the desk, and set an e-book reader on it "If the manuscript gets heavy," he said, "Use that. Order anything you like for the reader."

"You don't know how much I read," she said.

"I have an idea," he answered, "I mean it. Order what you like."

"It's frustrating, you know," she said. "The one time in my life when I have nothing better to do than read, and I spend all my time sleeping."

"I'm told your sleep-to-reading ratio should start improving pretty quickly," he said. "Oh, and don't feel like you shouldn't order something just because you have a copy back in New York. Even if it means ordering hard copies. There's a delivery account already set up for you."

She started to protest, and he held up a finger. "Don't make me sic Lanie on you. It's going to be a while before you have access to your personal library. I would no more expect you to go without your books for the next few months than I would expect you to go without air or food. I'm a reader too."

She shot him a look that managed to express gratitude, annoyance and amusement all at once, and then started to pick up the heavy manuscript. "Is this on the e-reader?" she asked.

He nodded, thumbed to the relevant entry, and brought it up for her. "Converted it just for you," he said.

She grinned, and took the device from him.

Actual therapy was less painful, but more exhausting than the evaluation had been. Rather than searching out every pain point, they focused on the areas where stretching and exercises would help, rather than contribute to the existing damage. It was the strangest combination of almost-relaxing massage and brutal torture, with a heavy dose of hard work. Of course, what constituted hard work now were things she could have done in her sleep a few weeks prior, such as stepping up onto a stair, or lifting a two pound weight.

"How long is it going to take to get my strength back?" she finally dared to ask.

"Some of it will come back quickly," Amy, the therapist, said. She was about Kate's age, Kate guessed, with dark blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, and no makeup whatsoever on a very ordinary face. "Part of it is dependent on your lungs healing, because your biggest issue right now is stamina. Your legs, walking, climbing even, I think that will be pretty fast. Once we can improve your range of motion for your arms and torso, then the arms should come back pretty well too."

"Martial arts?" Kate asked.

"Solo kata, yes, and soon. Tai chi would be very good for you, although at this point, yoga would be even better. Sparring with a partner? That will be a very late development."

"How much can I get away with? I'm used to exercising a couple times a day," she said.

"Right now, supervised, with me. Every other day, tops. In a week or two, depending on how you tolerate it, we'll shift to an every third day schedule, where you see me one day, rest the next, and then do exercises either on your own or with a personal trainer after that. Expect it to be a month or two before you're back to exercising every day, and even then it will be a very modified exercise routine from the kind you're used to doing."

"I was in the hot tub yesterday," Kate said. "It felt great at the time, but was exhausting."

"That's the heat. You've got a pool out there..." Amy nodded in the general direction of the French doors that led out into the yard. "If it's between 86 and 90, you should be able to tolerate it better. It will still tire you, but it's not likely to hurt you if you're sensible and don't try to swim laps. You can do warmer immersion without physical activity for up to 15 minutes after you swim. In the cooler pool, all I want you to do is walk for now. And it's probably best if you save that for the 'off' days."

"I just... getting out of bed and going to the bathroom by myself is exhausting," Kate said. "I couldn't even pull my own pants up when they hit the floor."

"Give it time," Amy said. "We'll get you there. You are starting out so far ahead of where most people would, simply because you've been in excellent shape most of your life. It's easier to get it back than to find it when you never had it."

"I miss it," Kate said. "I don't do 'dependent' well."

"In the long run, that will help," the therapist said.

The session left Kate shaking with fatigue, and she slept until dinnertime.

The first batch of new furniture had been set up, and the living room now boasted enough couch-space for the entire household, with enough empty places that they could already see where their missing 'family' would fit. An overstuffed leather sectional divided the large living room into two sections, and the other half of the room was dominated by a long, rustic table with benches, headed by yet another "Kate chair", as they'd begun to call them. Every room on the ground floor now boasted some sort of recliner, and Kate thought she'd spotted one out in the garden as well.

Dinner was excellent, a rich lasagna, bakery bread, organic greens, some veined cheese crumbled into the greens with pecans. Kate ate slowly, watching the conversation swirl around her, only half paying attention to the content and finding herself more aware that her extended family had found more commonalities than her injuries. Her dad and Rick were laughing together over something, with Javier chiming in. Martha and Lanie appeared to have become fast friends, and Kate smiled to see them all together.

She thought about Alexis, about Kevin Ryan, both who would be joining them soon, and suddenly realized that Castle had managed to deftly pluck the people she cared most about in the universe and draw them all to safety. As if he'd known that it would break her beyond all repair to lose another of them right now. Then again, it might break him, too. The table was big enough for the nine people who would be inhabiting the house, and the lubrication of money and space seemed, thus far, to be easing many of the worst tensions that tended to crop up in shared living situations.

She said into a lull in the conversation, "I think you all might be the easiest roommates I've ever had."

They looked over at her. "Might be a surprise, giving your current situation," Lanie said, "But you're far from the hardest, yourself."

"You give me shots," Kate said. "And do my laundry. And listen to me complain."

"For which I am handsomely rewarded," Lanie responded, grinning at Javier. "Oh, and well paid, too," she added, for Rick's benefit. "You don't use my toothbrush, you don't borrow my underwear, and you don't have an incontinent cat with a fondness for my shoes. Trust me, after some of the roommates I've had, this is damn near paradise."

"I had a roommate who stole my girlfriend and ate my food," Javier said. "And we had one bathroom, which he tended to occupy for hours, usually leaving the toilet clogged. I'm with Lanie, this is closer to staying in a nice hotel without having to put up with random strangers than dealing with roommates."

"And he does like a nice hotel," Lanie added absentmindedly, then blinked, and then grinned.

"I've had years of practice living lightly in other people's spaces," Martha said solemnly, sending Rick into a coughing fit.

"You've been great," Lanie said. "As long as I don't have to cook, I'll clean up the dishes any day."

"It's amazing," Rick said to Kate. "And since we told her that all the salt has to be measured at the table, it's even been edible."

"You made this?" Kate asked, looking down at her plate.

"I love to cook," Martha said. "It's like a performance."

"Why do I suddenly have an image of dancing peas and carrots?" Rick asked.

"Please tell me you haven't been showing him Veggie Tales," Kate said to Javier.

Javier put his hands up. "Innocent."

"Veggie what?" Rick asked.

"Nevermind," Kate said. "The less exposure he has to that, the better for all of us." She shot Esposito a dirty look.

"It's been nice, having people around," Jim said.

"How long are you staying, Dad?" Kate asked. She knew that Rick was there for the long haul, that Lanie and Esposito would be heading back in a few months, but she'd never really asked about her father, or about Martha.

"Well," he said, "That depends on you, in part."

"Your job?" she asked.

"I took a leave of absence. I've got ten more weeks before I need to think about whether I'm going back or not. I want to see you back on your feet... and as Rick pointed out, staying out of sight right now gives whoever did this to you one less piece of leverage where you're concerned."

"Do you have plans, Martha?"

"I always have plans, darling, but they're always flexible. I've got someone I trust looking after the school right now, but at the moment I want to be near my family. Maybe in September, I'll go back, but I don't have to decide now."

"How's Alexis?" Kate asked.

"She's doing okay," Rick said.

"She's struggling a little," Martha said. "It's a lot of changes, and it really threw her. But I think she'll be okay when she's out here, and right now she's so focused on the end of the school year, and Ashley, I think it's enough distraction for now."

"I feel so bad, all this..." Kate waved at the room. "Having her dad gone so abruptly, and being out of her house..."

"The hard thing for her was watching you take a bullet," Martha said. "And knowing her dad was right up there in the line of fire. I think it's easier on her having you all out here, where she knows you don't have a big fat bulls-eye painted on you. As much as this has been hard for her, it would have been much, much worse if you'd died, or if her dad had been hit. And while I'm not sure why you're a target, it's clear that you and the people close to you are targets, and if Captain Montgomery could take out four of them when he died and still leave someone behind to send a sniper after you... I've read enough of the genre to know that this isn't over. Alexis knows it too. That's why she's not taking chances at the loft."

"I feel like I'm stealing Rick from her," Kate said.

His hand found hers as Martha said, "Nonsense. If anything, this will give her an extra six months with her dad close by that she wouldn't have had otherwise, because she'd have had to choose. She's a smart girl."

"I just... you all dropping everything to come out here. It seems like too much," she said.

"Believe it or not," Javier said, "I've actually been really busy since I got here."

"Oh?" she asked.

"You'll see," he said, and grinned.

"Feels like a vacation to me," Lanie said. "No stiffs, no crime scenes in the middle of the night, just sunny California with my favorite people. Just need to train my cabana boy a little better." She shot a slightly predatory look at Javier, who paled.

The days started to settle into a routine, one which unfortunately still involved far more sleeping than Kate felt was reasonable. Therapy was hard and slow, but gave her a way to measure her progress, as she shifted to heavier weights in half pound increments, walked a little longer each day, stretched a little farther.

Rick didn't try to keep her at arm's length again, but she didn't push him, either, and they settled into a closeness that was entirely different from anything she'd ever experienced.

She realized finally, that every relationship she'd had, she'd tested, and found wanting. Would he stay? Would she want him to? Was he right for her? Worth the long term? But she'd never dropped her guards, never let herself be vulnerable, never let a potential partner see her weak... This was different. He'd seen her stripped bare, not just naked but broken, and rather than triumph in her weakness, or turn from her scars, he'd simple looked for ways to help her find whole again, without flinching when it got messy. He looked at her and saw Kate, not the damage, even when the damage was sometimes all that she could see herself.

And he didn't push. As much as they'd bantered, as much as they'd teased, even with the crumbling of the physical boundaries between them, she couldn't remember a relationship, ever, where there had been less pressure, not one where she'd spent the night with a man. His respect for the boundaries of her healing was complete, and it was alien to her. He managed to kiss her, to tell her with eyes and hands that she was exactly what he wanted, without taking it further, without that goal-oriented pursuit of sex that she'd grown to expect from every man she'd ever been with.

She wondered if she would miss that, the element of swordplay, if it would still be absent once she was more healed. She brought it up, a week after they'd come to California, as they lay side by side in the bed after a session of particularly intense physical therapy.

He just laughed, rolling on his back, until she swatted him on the arm. He finally rolled back and looked at her and said, "Trust me, Kate... when the time comes to take the kid gloves off, when you're ready to give as good as you get, it'll be there."

"I'm tired," she said, "of being handled with kid gloves."

"You wouldn't be you if you liked it," he said. "But I wouldn't be me if I let myself hurt you just because you're bored. Plenty of time for handcuffs later."

"You think I'm going to let you handcuff me?" she asked.

"I always rather thought it would be the other way around," he said, with a grin. Then his face softened, and he said, "The last thing I need right now is to see you helpless. It's definitely not on my list of my top fifty Kate Beckett fantasies."

She gave him a bemused look, and then asked, "So tell, me then, what is on that list?"

He gave her a long, considering look, and said, "Is someone fishing for a bedtime story?"

"I don't know, Rick... The one time in our relationship when you have a guarantee that I'm not armed, you don't have to worry about me shooting you, and you don't want to share?"

"Did I say that I didn't want to share?" he asked. "Maybe I'm not sure you're up to me sharing."

"You're good with words, but I don't think they're potent enough that they're going to cause me physical harm," she said, laughing. Then she blinked. "I laughed," she said.

"You okay?" he asked, suddenly serious.

"It didn't hurt," she said.

A smile lit up his face like a Christmas tree. "Well, then," he said, "that definitely calls for a bedtime story." He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling.

She watched him for a few minutes, curious, and finally said, "Well?"

"Just making the list in my head," he said. "It's one thing to know when something isn't on the list, and another to figure out what is, and in what order it should be presented."

"You're lying there, right now, thinking about your top fifty fantasies about me?" she asked.

He looked lazily over at her, and grinned. "Number fifty: Kate Beckett, out of her mind with curiosity about what I'm thinking."

She swatted him, but grinned back, then pursed her lips and rolled onto her back. "No, that's fine, Rick. Take your time. I wouldn't want to rush you."

Private Therapy: Bedtime Stories: Number 37

"How hard can it be?" she finally asked, twenty minutes later.

He looked at her, and raised an eyebrow, and she sighed. "You know what I mean."

"Well, there are whole categories," he said. "Positions, locations, situations. Some of them don't even necessarily involve sex. Well, a few of them anyway."

"Number 37," she said.

"Not number one?" he asked.

"I don't flip to the last page, and neither do you," she shot back.

"But you'll flip to the middle," he said.

"Number 50 was kind of lame."

He gave a small harrumph of mock indignation, but was grinning anyway. "You have no idea how hot you are when you're wild with curiosity."

"Number 37," she reiterated.

"Okay, but from here on out, you only get one per day," he said. "And you don't get to ask about anything higher than a..." he hesitated, thinking for a moment, and then said, "We'll save the top five for the end."

"Rick Castle's Advent Calendar of Sexual Kinkiness?" she asked, chuckling.

"It's not Christmas," he said, "but if you want to wait until then to run through the list..."

"No," she said, too quickly. "So go on, tell me."

"Number 37..." He paused, and then grinned. "You and me, on the red carpet. You in something tight-fitting, but with no underwear."

"Already happened," she said. "Think of another one."

He spluttered. "Wha...When?"

"Think about it," she said.

He frowned, then blinked, and said, "Seriously?"

"Wasn't room," she said.

"There was room for your badge," he said. "And it doesn't count if I don't know about it. Besides, that wasn't my red carpet."

She grinned. "Perhaps you should have qualified that with more details?"

"All right," he said. "Number 37. We're in a limo, headed to the premiere of Heat Wave. You're wearing a black evening gown, floor-length, classy, fitted, with just enough sparkle. The car stops, I step out, and hold the door for you. You step out of the car, onto a dangerously high pair of heels, and as I gallantly help you step up to the curb, my hand slips down your back, lightly, casually, grazing lightly across your ass just enough to discover that the fall of the fabric across your skin is completely unbroken by any undergarment whatsoever. But it's our secret, and I don't let on that I've noticed until later, when we get back to the hotel, and I tear the dress off you with my teeth."

"Now I see you with sequins in your teeth," she said, grinning.

"It's a fantasy," he said. "Sequins don't get stuck in my teeth in fantasies. And besides, in this fantasy, the sparkle comes from beads."

"Tell me you haven't already bought the dress," she said.

He coughed.

"Oh, Castle," she sighed, whether exasperated or charmed, she wasn't quite sure.

"It will still fit," he said.

"Just tell me it's not too low cut," she said.

He pondered. "If you're wondering if it will show your scars, I think not. Most of the low is in the back."

"You have a thing for my back?" she asked, remembering how low that red dress had been.

"I have a thing for all of you, but a low-backed evening gown is a fantastic excuse for skin contact," he said. "And it's a lovely, lovely back."

"One of these days I'm not going to be able to pull off a gown like that without a bra," she said.

"Please," he said. "Pulling off the gown is my job." Then he grinned. "But I actually do have some sense about these things. You weren't lacking support last time round."

"You're incorrigible," she said.

"That's why you keep incorriging me," he punned.

She pressed her lips together and tried not to smile.

Kate had always been good at compartmentalizing. Not perfect, but it was something she'd learned, a survival tactic. A little mental game, where when the pressure of something got to be too much, she'd pack it up in a mental box, stick it in a lock-box inside her head, bash the tentacles that tried to escape until they stopped, and then seal the box with chains in a room with no windows, no doors.

The problem was that when she did that, it froze the issue wherever it was. And the shift to California, diving into physical therapy, escaping into books and the warm solidity of Rick's arms, made it ridiculously simple to pack whole chapters of her life into a box. It all worked perfectly until something, usually something small, inserted itself like a lockpick and let the whole shoggoth out of hiding.

Then the nightmares came, until she finally managed to surface and stick the whole business back into its goddamned box again.

It helped that everyone, every single person in the house, was out of context. She wondered if Rick had done it on purpose, when she dared think about it, taking her someplace so far from anywhere any of them had ever been. There were no triggers in Martha's easy banter with Jim. Kate had figured out quite early on that her father and Martha had made a conscious decision to mess with Rick's head, mostly to make Kate laugh. Jim didn't look at Martha the way he'd ever looked at her mother. She'd seen him like that with friends, years back, and it was good to hear him laugh, but he was even better at compartmentalizing than she was, and falling in love was something that had been shut up in a box long ago.

Lanie and Esposito's relationship in the house was something entirely different from what she'd seen when they were on the job. Without bodies dropping, with easy access to pool and sun and the sheer luxury of time, they were different people. No triggers there.

And Rick himself... It was as if he'd been filtered, distilled, refined into the sum of every cup of coffee and take out meal she'd never asked for, every thoughtful gesture, and he'd left behind the fool and the rapier play. Oh he was playful, but the side he showed most was the side he'd showed the least in New York, the grown-up, the caretaker. The difference made it easier to shove aside anything about their relationship that might have brought her back to the issues that had driven her for so long.

Interestingly enough, the most common pick for her mental locks was simply sitting in the library, pretending to read while watching him type. Because it was then that the difference hit home so sharply that she couldn't help but compare. And he was typing constantly.

Mostly she managed to escape into books. He'd noticed, and suggested that if she really wanted to escape, she might try science fiction, since it would take her light years farther out than any murder mystery ever could. And it let her dodge completely the issue that the thrill of making sense of the incomprehensibility of murder no longer held the attraction it had. Losing her mother had been one thing, but losing Roy...

She didn't let herself think about Roy very often. Because thinking about Roy not only opened the lock box, but it threw her into the gaping mouth of the beast within, the sucking, rending tidal force created by the pull between guilt and rage, betrayal and loss. Every time she let herself even begin to think about it, the overwhelming cascade of emotion, the flashbacks, all of it sent her heart rate through the roof, which brought Lanie or Rick flying to her side, and it was just not worth the bother. But that's why it helped that she was good at compartmentalizing. Intellectually she knew there was a piper to be paid, that the post traumatic stress was near inevitable, that she'd have to deal with it one way or another, no question. But the time to deal with PTSD was when you were safe, and all the other specialists aside, the least safe thing she could think of was truly baring her soul to a professional. "Operational security" aside, the last authority figure she'd truly, deeply trusted had been Roy. And before that, Mike. That way led madness and the elder gods.

Maybe the science fiction/fantasy route hadn't been the best escape after all.

Rick, for all his caretaking, remained firmly an equal. Her father's alcoholism, even with his recovery, had, with the necessary role reversal, removed from him the 'authority' mantle for her, forever. But the two men she'd most respected in her life, looked up to, trusted—they had both betrayed her, even if they'd gone on to try to find redemption, the idea of trusting another 'authority' with her sanity... Lanie and Rick knew her well enough to not even bother suggesting it.

So she escaped into books, and into bedtime stories, and the brutally hard work of clawing her way back to physical health.

By mid-June, as Alexis finished her last finals and another batch of furniture was delivered in preparation for their new batch of houseguests, Kate had found a routine which maximized her physical healing and let her completely avoid thinking about her mother, Roy Montgomery, Mike Royce or the whole ugly conspiracy.

After the furniture had been delivered, Kate made her first foray up to the second floor.

She'd been climbing stairs religiously as part of her therapy. Partly because it was good exercise, and partly because the house had three floors, she'd only ever seen the ground floor, and she was intensely curious. She'd started out only able to handle a couple of steps up, a couple of steps down. The steps down were the hardest.

When he figured out what she was after, Rick said, "I'll help you up to the second floor and carry you back down if you need it, but you need to be able to do both on your own before you go to the third. I won't help you climb up there."

She raised an eyebrow. "Something special up there?"

He shrugged. "You'll see when you earn it."

She knew that Esposito spent most of his "working" hours upstairs. But he wouldn't 'fess either, and she wasn't willing to wheedle or whine. Lanie just shrugged and said she didn't have any idea.

The second floor was gorgeous.

The room at the top of the stairs was surprisingly large for space that was clearly not meant to be anything special. She was unsurprised to find a "Kate-chair" next to the balcony that looked over the staircase. What she was surprised to find was that Rick had a bedroom up there, one which, as far as she could tell, he'd never actually entered. It looked manicured, precise, a decorator showpiece, not anything actually lived in.

Despite her dad's protests of not needing much and living out of a suitcase, Martha's touch in his room was evident in the tasteful bedside lamp, the roll-top desk, the rocking chair and footstool, all clearly chosen with her dad's personality in mind, but things he'd never have bothered asking for.

Martha's room was eclectic, the main bedroom managing to be both extremely bold and loud, yet warm and intimate at the same time, the sun room bright and peaceful and green with growing things. Kate blinked when she realized that the growing things were more her Dad's style than Martha's.

She didn't even peek at the room Javier and Lanie shared, the only one where the door had been left closed. She'd dismissed the idea very quickly when a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously Esposito-ish said something along the lines of, Dude, I just don't want to know. At some point Lanie would be up there and she'd see it then, but not peeking in for the sake of looking.

The room set aside for Alexis was one of the smaller rooms in the house. The only one smaller that Kate had seen was actually her own room, which had clearly been intended initially for "the help". She knew the only reason Rick had put her there at all was that it was the only plausible bedroom on the ground floor, and the last thing she'd needed when they first moved in was farther to walk.

Alexis' room, though small, was charming, and Kate knew instantly why it had been set aside for her. It sat over the front door, with a bay window and window seat. The private bathroom was a vision of orchid-colored tiles and feminine charm. It wasn't childish, but it was exactly the sort of room Alexis would love instantly. The space had been used efficiently, with a desk tucked under an elevated bed, leaving plenty of floor space for a ridiculously plush area rug, the window seat bedecked with cushions and pillows.

After looking around, Kate walked into Rick's "bedroom" and lay down on the vast mattress. She was pleased to find that lying on her stomach was now possible. He followed her in, and asked, "What do you think?"

"I think this room needs people actually living in it," she said. It was by far the largest bedroom in the house, at well over twenty feet on a side, it was quite possibly the largest single room in the house, at least of the ones she'd seen. "It's a waste of space, otherwise."

"We could move up here," he said. "In a week or two, when the stairs are easier for you."

"Pretty view," she said. The room looked out over the gardens, the dominant view out the window from her vantage point on the bed was the green of the huge trees that surrounded the house.

"It's the only thing I miss in the city," he said. "The green. There's something soothing about it." As he spoke, his hands moved to her back, working gently at her muscles through her t-shirt.

"Mmmm," she agreed. "Soothing."

"There's a claw-foot tub in the bathroom," he said. "Speaking of soothing."

She smiled, eyes closed. "Can I take a hotter bath now?"

"Up to your doctor," he said. His hands worked down her back. He'd been massaging her daily, sometimes more than once a day, and not only did his hands know her back, but her back knew his hands, and dissolved quite obediently into putty at his touch.

"Looking forward to Alexis?" she asked drowsily.

"I miss her like breathing," he said. "And don't apologize."

She shut her mouth, and then purred into the duvet as his massage moved gently down, working at the muscles of her ass and legs without hesitation or shyness. There was something to be said for familiarity.

"It doesn't breed contempt, you know," she mumbled.

He chuckled, and didn't ask what she meant, but just said, "Good."

"Seriously," she asked, turning her head, "why is it that the more time I spend with you, the more I like you?"

"Because I'm that awesome?" he said, and then ducked a pillow she tossed halfheartedly in his direction. Then he said, quietly, "I've been told by an expert that relationships are supposed to work that way. That the best relationships, the truest ones work that way. And the times I've been apart from you... they've always been the hardest. It's when we dive into it together with both feet that it works the best."

"It's like the deep end, here," she said, ludicrously relaxed. "I like sharing it with you. Who was the expert?"

"Your dad," he said.

She flashed to a memory, then, of her mother and her father on vacation. One of those vacations that started out snappish and tense but gradually worked the family's knots out in days of lazing along a Maine beach in summertime. A vivid memory of her mother, curled up against her dad as he read, while Kate piled stones and sand into amorphous castles. She couldn't remember how old she'd been, not very, probably, to be so content with shovel and bucket rather than curled up with a book herself. She remembered how safe it felt, to see her mom so relaxed, so easy with her dad. And that it had been an unbreakable date, no matter how complicated her mother's cases were, that every year they would leave town together, spend that time reconnecting.

"He's a smart man," Rick said quietly, but just in time to derail the memory before it slid into less pleasant territory. "I've been coming to the realization lately that I have had very few smart men in my life."

"You've done pretty well anyway," she said.

"I credit Alexis," he said. "And you."

She rolled onto her side, to look at him. The deep, dark circles that had haunted his eyes for months had started to recede. His hair was a little longer than he normally wore it, and decidedly rumpled, but he'd shaved that morning, every morning in fact. "Am I a good influence?" she asked.

"You even have to ask?" he said, incredulously. "Good god, you've even got me working out. Voluntarily. And regularly." He'd taken to using her therapy time to avail himself of the exercise equipment.

She ran a hand over his stomach. "Starting to pay off, too," she said, leering.

At that, he grinned. "Down girl."

She shot him a pout, and rolled back to her stomach. "You didn't do my feet," she said.

He chuckled. "Yes ma'am."

In the boxes in her mind, as much as in reality, he had built this house, with its bright windows and the lush greenery that surrounded it, as a safe haven. She knew she was hiding, but for the moment, it was enough. She was, after all, very good at compartmentalizing.

Private Therapy: Four

Kate wasn't sure whether to be touched or a little disappointed that numbers 43, 22 and 17 were surprisingly...simple. “Wonder Woman Underoos?” she said to him, laughing, about number 43. “I'd have thought you'd be more the remote-controlled-magnetic lingerie type.”

He just looked at her, shook his head and said, “The whole point of lingerie is the feel of my hands on your skin as I take it off of you. Remote control misses the point entirely. And you're totally my Wonder Woman. Also, there's a creepy element of non-consent to magnetic underwear.”

Still, his description of just exactly what he'd do with said Underoos... “Wait, tell me you haven't bought...”

“No,” he said, almost sadly. “That would have been just as creepy, at the point at which that particular fantasy occurred to me.”

She grinned. “You could, now, you know. I happen to know they're available in my size.”

He blinked at her for a very long time, before slowly, without taking his eyes off of her, reaching over for the laptop. Finally, fingers tapping, he said, “And just why would you know that?”

“Thought about surprising you some Halloween,” she said. “Found them while looking for a costume.”

“You know me entirely too well,” he said, trying to suppress a grin. Then he cocked his head and looked at her. “Which Halloween....”

“That would be telling,” she said, with a grin.

“You're just lucky you're on the injured reserve,” he said, wagging his finger in her general direction.

“Or you'd what?” she asked.

“That would be telling,” he said, and put the laptop down. “When you're better, I plan on finding out just exactly how ticklish you are.”

“I'm not,” she said, with her full-on poker face.

He looked skeptical, but climbed back into the bed with her anyway.

“So far, you've listed the precinct breakroom, your house in the Hamptons, the red carpet thing, and the Underoos,” she said to him, the next night. “So, tell me, Rick, why is it that someone who is paid to fantasize for a living is coming up with such... plausible fantasies?”

“You prefer implausible?” he asked.

“I just expected something, oh, I don't know...”

“Kinkier?” he asked.

She blushed ever so slightly, and gave a half-shrug of agreement.

“All depends on how you order the list,” he said.

“I'm just... seriously? Is that what turns your crank the hardest? I was expecting, oh, I don't know... something involving more implausible play.”

“I haven't told you anything in the top 15,” he said. “But I'm ordering them in the order I most want them to happen. If I was just ordering them by what gets me the horniest? It might be a very different list.”

He rolled on his side, and looked at her. “Which would you rather hear?” he asked. “The things I use to get my rocks off, or what I actually dream about for you, and me, together, in the future.”

Her mouth went dry for a moment, then she recovered and shot him a sultry look. “Suppose that depends on how horny I am,” she said.

His mouth opened slightly and then shut again. Then he shot her a sly look and said, “How horny are you?”

“You haven't touched me, really touched me, in days,” she said.

He looked thoughtful, like he was counting in his head, and then grinned. “Need some stress relief?”

“What I need is the friggin' all clear from the doc so that I can have my wicked, wicked way with you,” she said.

“Not going to happen for a while,” he said. “You're not up to it yet. But... You've still got a story tonight. Maybe it should have... a tactile component.”

“I'm listening,” she said.

“This story comes with a bit of a lesson,” he said. “How much do you know about how your body works?”

She looked baffled. “Menstrual cycle?”

“The whole cycle. Because I think I know why you're horny.”

“Can't it be as simple as I haven't had sex in well over a month?” she asked.

“Ah, but you also went off of birth control,” he said. “And I'm guessing you've been on birth control for a very long time.” As he talked, he almost casually untied the belt holding her pajama top shut.

She watched him, and said, “Your point?”

“Not my point,” he said, grinning, as his fingers went to her waistband. “May I?”

“You really know how to get a girl in the mood,” she muttered. “Yes.”

“I haven't even started to try,” he said. “You need to be naked for this lesson.”

Her mouth twitched, and she rolled her eyes, but she lifted her hips and let him strip her bare.

“So where does this fall on your list of fantasies?” she asked. “Getting me naked?”

“Already been done, so it's on the list of realities,” he said. “It's a dynamic list. But a month ago? Pretty damn high.”

At that, she grinned. He looked at her, and smiled, running fingers lightly over her stomach. “The bruises are almost gone.”

She'd switched to Coumadin days ago, and the mosaic of bruises that had covered her belly from the shots had faded away almost completely.

“So what is the lesson?” she asked.

“Without the hormones in your system, your body is cycling normally now,” he said. “Which means that I should be able to tell...” He trailed a finger down, and ran it lightly between her legs. It was startling, and she arched a little at the touch, her legs falling apart almost reflexively, but all he did was raise his hand and slide two fingers together. “You're wet,” he said. “But more than that... you're slick.”

“You just stripped me naked and touched my skin,” she said.

“Ah, but during most of the month, it would take more than that,” he said. “May I?”

“You're asking now?” she asked.

He grinned, and said, “This requires study.” He rolled over, settling between her legs, his arms over her thighs, and said, “You're pink.”

“You're between my legs,” she shot back. “But I might have to find a gun and shoot you if you don't touch me again.”

He shifted, brought a single finger up, and trailed it down her clit, and then slid it into her, startlingly fast. “Most of the month, I'd need to get you worked up to get you wet. But you're so, very ready.”

She arched against him, as his finger circled against her walls, almost idly working up until it was quite deep. He did something gentle and strange, and said, “But it's not just how slick you are,” he said. “Your cervix moved up, softened, opened a tiny bit. It's soft like lips,” he said. “Because you're not just ready, you're fertile.”

With that, he slid a second finger in. “It makes you slick, makes more space, makes things stretchier, softer, more responsive.” She gasped as his fingers worked their way down her walls, to curl up into her.

“And it's something I won't, can't take advantage of. Not now,” he said. “But I can imagine it... Sliding into you, fast, because you're so ready...” his fingers echoed his words, moving out and in again, deep and fast. He dropped a kiss on her clitoris, grinning as she let out a low moan. “The feel of my cock, bare, slipping into your heat.” He brought a thumb up against her clitoris, and started circling as he spoke. “No barriers, no fear, just primal....” He found a rhythm, letting the motion of his fingers move his thumb just enough. “Until I fill you, completely.”

Her hands worked at the bedding, one hand came up to one of her breasts, he smiled and slid his other hand up to the other nipple. “It's really something else,” he said. “The idea of taking that chance, knowing that it might change everything, hoping it will.”

One of her hands came down, fingers sliding into his hair, nudging at him, and she said, “Please, shut up.”

He chuckled, and brought his mouth down to replace his thumb on her clitoris. As his tongue played over her, she swore softly, and he added another finger, stretching her, filling her, riding her with his mouth as her hips began to rock, until finally she tumbled over the cliff.

“Christ,” she managed, when the pulsing finally stopped.

He chuckled against her thigh. “Better?”

“So what number is that?” she asked. “Unprotected, fertile sex?”

“Would it scare you if I told you number six?” he asked. “Not that it's possible for a good long time.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “You fantasize about making babies with me?” she asked.

Now it was his turn to fall silent. She chuckled. “Now I'm really curious about one through five.”

“In due time,” he said.

“Ha.”

Then she grinned. “You know, there's something to be said for ditching the hormones... that was a lovely, lovely orgasm.”

He pushed himself up to his knees and made a ridiculous bow. “I live to serve.”

“Why do you know all that? The fine details?”

“Didn't want to get surprised again, after Alexis,” he said. “Making her was amazing. I will never regret her. But I will never forgive myself for inflicting that woman on a child.” He settled in next to her. “Gina and I toyed with the idea, but... I'm glad we never did. You... You would be an amazing mother.”

She curled up against him, pensive and touched.

Then he continued, “If we track your cycles, we can avoid...risky behavior...during the times you're most likely to get pregnant. Until you're ready.”

“Why do I think there's a catch?” she asked.

“It's also the time you're going to least want to avoid said risky behavior,” he said, with an apologetic shrug. “It will require... significant exertion of self-control. It helps that I am not willing to take the chance, yet.”

“But at least I know you really, really want to,” she said. “And maybe I'll let you, someday. I already know you're an amazing dad.”

What he hadn't told her, but thought he might, eventually, was that the impossible things he fantasized about had more to do with where they'd been than where they were going. That when he was alone in the shower, he was imagining the times she'd said no, imagining what it would have been if she'd said yes, instead.

Times like California, if she'd stayed, instead of running. After the freezer, if she'd come home with him to get warm, rather than letting Josh take her home. And after taking down Lockwood....

He didn't tell her, because the fantasies all had one thing in common... Kate, well, strong, in all her NYPD, high-heeled glory, having her wicked, wicked way with him in every way he could imagine.

Until she was able to walk up a flight of stairs without clinging to him, until she could get through a simple orgasm without wincing (and he'd noticed that, even if she'd thought she'd hidden it), he was staying as far from those as he could.

The doorbell rang on Wednesday while they were eating lunch. "More deliveries?" Kate asked.

Rick shook his head, and stood, his hand moving reflexively his hip, despite the absence of a weapon. As he moved toward the front door, he pulled the drawer of the little entry way table open, where a loaded gun sat at the ready. Esposito followed him to the front door, hand on his holster.

A black man in a blue coverall delivery uniform, stood, clipboard in hand, facing away from the door. He turned, and rang the bell again, and Rick relaxed, with a bemused look on his face as he opened the door.

"What can I do for you today?" Rick asked, as Agent Avery looked at his clipboard, and then back up with an utterly bland expression on his face.

"We have a delivery for you," the FBI agent said. "Thought we ought to bring it in the side."

"I wasn't expecting anything until Saturday," Rick said.

"Just go get the door, Mister Alexander," the agent said, his voice tinged with amused irritation.

A huge box sat at the French doors to the therapy room, easily large enough to hold a refrigerator. He pulled the doors open, and Ryan's head peeked around the box. "Got a delivery here for uh... Fred?"

Rick grinned and said, "Bring it on in. Is that box giggling?"

The box, was, in fact, giggling, as Ryan pushed it in on a hand truck.

There was a little thud, and the point of a razor showed through from the inside, sketching the shape of a door in the side of the box. A moment later, a flap of cardboard fell aside, to reveal a pleased Alexis.

"Sweetheart!" Rick said, delighted, and held out his hands for her to step out of the box. "What's in there with you?"

"Some of Agent Shaw's toys," Alexis said.

"I thought you weren't coming until Saturday?" he said as he swung her around.

"Agent Shaw worked it out so that I could take my last final early," she said. "It was all very cloak-and-dagger, sneaking out of the school into an unmarked van." She looked delighted by the process.

"Very cool," Rick said. "I missed you so much. Tell me you didn't come the whole way in the box?"

"Nah, that was just for laughs when we got here. Anyway, since Ash graduated last weekend, we figured that if we could get out earlier than anyone was expecting me, there'd be less chance of trouble or tracking."

"Smart," Rick said.

"And speaking of Ash," Alexis said, stepping out of her dad's arms and reaching around the box.

"What..." Rick started, as Alexis dragged Ashley from behind the box, looking sheepish and wary.

"I brought him with," Alexis said, with a grin.

Rick blinked.

Martha appeared, as if by magic, at his side, and said, "How lovely! I'm so glad we made up that guest room on the third floor, Richard. I told you that Jenny and Kevin would need the bigger room."

"You knew about this," Rick said accusingly to his mother. "You didn't even ask me."

"You were distracted, dear, and it's necessary," Martha said under her breath.

At that moment, Alexis looked past them and her eyes lit up. "Kate... I mean, Detective Beckett!"

Kate stood in the doorway of the therapy room, her hand on Lanie's arm. "Kate's fine."

Alexis bounced over and then hesitated. "Can I give you a hug? Are you..."

"Gently," Kate said, looking bemused as Alexis gave her an enthusiastic, yet delicate hug.

"I'm so glad to see you up," Alexis said. "You look so much better than last time..."

"It's the sunshine," Kate said. "And lots of sleep."

Rick was still standing slack-jawed in front of the open box, as Jenny and Special Agent Jordan Shaw, dressed in an incongruous blue delivery coverall, her pale red hair pulled back into a ponytail, stepped into the room.

"Nice setup you have here, Castle," Jordan said, looking around the room at the various exercise equipment and floor mats.

"It's for Kate," he said, without taking his eyes off of Alexis. "Is anyone going to tell me why I didn't have some advanced warning about Ashley?"

"Alexis wouldn't let us," Ashley said. "She said you'd flip, and that it wasn't negotiable, and that you had enough on your mind without worrying about the two of us until we got here. I told her we should tell you, but..."

"But we're here now," Alexis said. "And you've got room for him, and it just makes more sense this way."

Kate walked over and slid her arm around Rick's waist. He looked down at her, distracted. "But a cover..."

"May I introduce Ashton Baxter?" Jordan said.

"Bax..." His eyes went over to Jim Beckett, whose expression was entirely neutral, and completely unsurprised.

"Okay, who didn't know about this?" Rick said, exasperated. Lanie, Esposito and Kate raised their hands. Jim and Martha did not.

"You two..." Rick said, and then shook his head.

"He needs someone who can look out for him while he's here," Jim said. "I suggested it."

"I thought he was coming out for the school year," Rick said. "Staying on campus."

"Dad, may I talk to you?" Alexis said, all her enthusiasm tamped down into what looked to be a brewing fury. "In private?"

"I'll be fine," Kate said. "Go."

"My library," Rick said.

"I'll show you up to your rooms," Martha said to the rest of the newcomers. "You're going to love them."

"I'm not done with you, Mother," Rick said, as he led Alexis through the foyer to his library.

"Yes, you are, dear," she called back, as she led people upstairs.

"You don't know what it's been like," Alexis said, before he could get a word out of his mouth.

"Because all you would tell me was that things were fine," he said. "You haven't said a real word to me in weeks."

"You had other things you needed to deal with," Alexis said. "I handled it. But I need him, Dad."

"Because I wasn't there." Rick said.

"Because he's the man I love," she said. "Because from the moment he heard what happened, he has not left me alone other than to go to class, unless I asked him to. Because he's been unstintingly supportive, and absolutely respectful of what I've needed. Because I couldn't close my eyes without seeing Kate fall, without seeing blood on your hands, without hearing the screaming, until he was there."

"He's been sleeping with you?" Rick asked.

"What he and I do together is none of your business," she said. "But no, I cannot fall asleep without him right now. He makes me feel safe."

"I'm supposed to make you feel safe," Rick said, sitting down heavily in one of the leather chairs in front of the bookshelves. "You're supposed to be able to tell me anything."

"You had to be with Kate," Alexis said. "And that was okay, because I had Ashley. And no, I couldn't tell you, because I knew this would happen. You always overreact. Kate needed you."

"My daughter is traumatized and can't tell me, and is sleeping with her boyfriend, and you think I'm overreacting?" he said. "Overreacting would be shooting him on the spot."

"For helping me?" Alexis said. "You've got to be kidding."

"I said it would be overreacting," Rick said. "I get to be upset about this. I feel like I've failed you."

"Bullshit," Alexis said.

The word felt foreign, coming from her, and he looked at her, standing with her arms crossed over her chest, her stance solid and unmovable. "You look like Kate when you stand like that," he said, the surreality of it overwhelming him.

"You want to know why you didn't fail me?" Alexis asked.

He blinked up at her, waiting.

"You want to know why Ashley has been so good for me?" she continued.

"Tell me," he said.

"You taught me that I deserved someone who really loved me," she said. "And you taught me that I deserved to be treated with respect. And you've been a really great dad to me, and the reason I love him so much is that he reminds me of the best of you. And I'm sorry you can't see that right now, but you're going to have to figure out how to deal with it, because right now, I need him."

She turned, and walked out of the room.

His mouth opened, and then closed, and he sat back heavily in the chair.

He wasn't sure how much later it was when Jim Beckett pulled up a chair next to him.

"I'd offer you a drink," Jim said, "But my daughter would kill me if she saw me with a bottle in my hand."

"I wouldn't take it," Rick said. "I think the last time I had a drink I ended up breaking something and scaring my mother." He sighed. "I don't know how to do this, you know."

"I know," Jim said. "Neither did I, for a long time. Chased my daughter away from me, when she needed me most. But I think I'm better at it now."

"How do you do it?" Rick asked.

Jim chuckled dryly and said, "Keep your friends close, and your daughter's boyfriends closer," he said. "If she'll let me."

Rick laughed in spite of himself, and he threw a mock hat tip in Jim's direction. "Touché."

"No, the mistake I made with Katie when she was younger was that I didn't trust her. Worse, I let her know that I didn't trust her judgment. And her judgment suffered because of it. The more I valued her judgment, the more she did, too. From what I've seen of you and Alexis, she's a great kid. With better judgment than most adults twice, three times her age. And she needs the room to make some mistakes of her own. But this... I'm not sure it is a mistake. That's a good kid she's got there on her side."

"They're sharing a bed," he said. "The bedroom we have for her here, it has a twin mattress. I can't get my mind around..."

"Don't try," Jim said. "I know you and my daughter sleep in the same bed every night, and I trust that you won't hurt her, and I'm not the least bit curious about what you do there, so don't even try to explain it to me."

"She's seventeen," he said.

"By the time my daughter was seventeen," Jim said, "she'd run away twice with big burly guys on motorcycles, and come home with a tattoo and a bad attitude. Count yourself lucky if all your girl is doing is sleeping in the same bed as a college-bound boy who loved her enough to catch her and pick up the pieces when she fell apart. At least you can be fairly certain she's got the sense to be safe."

Rick blanched. "She's only about six years younger than I was when we had her. And her mother was only twenty when she got pregnant."

"And how old were you when you started... no don't answer that," Jim said. "Yes, there are risks. She could get pregnant. And with your money, and the support system she has, it would be difficult but not ruinous for her. And she's probably got enough sense to prevent that. Katie did, and she was far less reasonable than Alexis at that age." Jim leaned back in the chair. "One more story, and then I'm done. Has Katie ever told you anything about her grandparents?"

Rick shook his head, "Not much."

"My wife's parents were fantastic when we got married, before that even," Jim said. "They made me feel welcome, part of the family. My parents... were less than enthusiastic about Kate's mom. They were... traditional people, and Johanna was a staunch feminist, a lawyer, an advocate, and they butted heads. Partly because of my father's sexism, partly because their political views were so far apart, but the worst was that they made her feel like she wasn't good enough for me, like she could never be good enough for me."

He looked down at his hands. "It took me embarrassingly long to figure out the lesson there. When I finally crawled back out of the bottle after Johanna... I couldn't even think about looking at my father, and my mother was even worse. We saw them at her funeral, and I walked away from them and never looked back. I was close to Johanna's parents until they died, they felt more like my own parents at that point than mine ever had since I'd met her. Katie barely knew my parents, even before her mother died, because I couldn't have my child around people who treated her mother that way."

Jim looked over at Rick. "I made up my mind, when I got sober, that if Kate loved someone enough to introduce him, I would welcome him with open arms. I want to grow up knowing my grandchildren. I want to be a part of my daughter's life. And the fastest way out of her life was always to question her judgment, to question her heart."

Rick chuckled. "Have you explained this to my mother?"

"She doesn't need any help where Kate is concerned," Jim said. "My impression is that she really tried with your wives, in her own way."

"That she did," Rick said. "Unfortunately my judgment was...questionable at that point in my life."

"Don't project your own failings onto your daughter," Jim said. "That's a lesson I learned the long, hard way. You seem to be figuring it out, now, even if it has taken you forty years to find the right woman."

Rick laughed at that. "It only took me thirty-seven," he said. "It just took this long to talk her around. And I wasn't the most persuasive, especially not at first."

"That's Katie for you," Jim said. "You're doing okay now."

"I wish I felt like I was," Rick said. "It's just... Alexis..."

Jim reached over and patted his hand. "Let it go. Tell her you love her, and you trust her, and you want her to be safe. And quit trying to scare Ashley, he's a good kid, and the fact that he's here right now says volumes."

Rick gave a little nod to that, and Jim stood up. "I think that FBI agent wants to talk to you."

"Right," Rick said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes for a moment. "I'll be out in a moment." He opened his eyes as Jim was almost at the door. "Oh, and Jim?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," Rick said. "Sometimes I need a little perspective."

"And your life is long on women, and short on father figures," Jim said. "It's okay. I don't mind standing in now and then."

"You're a good man," Rick said.

"I try to be," Jim answered, and with an odd smile, stepped out of the room.

Jordan came in a moment later, claiming the seat that Jim had vacated. "Shock worn off yet?"

"You could have warned me."

"Alexis... You have a very smart girl there. And she flat out refused to come if we didn't bring him."

"My mother knew," he said.

"Alexis has been talking to her often," Jordan said. "And they both agreed that you would deal better with a fait accompli. I deferred to their judgment, since it didn't affect the operation."

"How is the operation?" he asked.

"You received a package," Jordan said. "From Roy Montgomery."

His eyes widened. "When?"

"She was still in the hospital," Jordan said. "Alexis found it a few days after Kate was shot, and didn't know what to do with it."

"Did she... did you open it?" Rick asked.

"She didn't. I did," Jordan said. "Added to Kate's murder board from her apartment, it adds up to a truly terrifying picture."

"How bad..." Rick asked.

"Bad enough that I'm here in person," Jordan said. "Is Kate ready..."

"No."

"You can't hide it from her, you know. Not for long," Jordan said. "Are you ready?"

Curiosity burned, but he closed his eyes, and shook his head. "If I know and don't tell her... Please don't put me in that position. How soon do we have to act?"

"This has been brewing for twenty years," Jordan said. "And we think we got you guys out clean. I would like to take some time to gather more evidence, put more pieces together."

"Did he say who..." Rick couldn't help asking.

"He had his suspicions, and a solid trail leading to an inevitable conclusion," Jordan said. "I know who Roy thinks it was,but there's no smoking gun. Not enough to put the bastard away, and I strongly suspect he would have if he could have, whatever it did to his career."

"So if we told Kate..."

"She'd go after the guy as soon as she could move her feet long enough to get out of the house without help, she wouldn't have enough evidence, she'd either end up dead or up for murder herself," Jordan said. "We need more. And it will take time. But we're much, much closer than she ever was alone."

"Be careful," he said. "You have a family."

"Oh, I know," Jordan said. "Which is why this is being handled with extreme caution. You were right to call.."

"I was wondering how many bodies it took to get you guys going," Rick said. "You showed up on the second body, last time, but not at all for the 3XK case."

"The gods are capricious," Jordan shrugged. "And you caught your man quickly, well, one of them. By the time it all went down..."

He shuddered. "You know the whole story?"

"I read the reports," she said. "But this case... It's been squashed at so many levels. No one wants to touch it. And officially, we're not."

He gave that a little nod of acknowledgment. "A lot of toys you brought for an unofficial investigation."

She grinned. "Just because we're not officially investigating that case, doesn't mean I can't hire Frederick and Katya Alexander as consultants..."

"No need to hire," he said.

"It helps the cash flow," she said. "It can be complicated, with as much money as you're throwing at this, to balance the books in a way that make things look the way they should."

"You're taking a huge professional risk on this," Kate said from the doorway. "Can I join you?"

"Please do," Jordan said. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know there are things you're not telling us," Kate said, sitting down in her chair in front of the window.

"You're not..." Rick started, but she held up a hand.

"Would it shock you to know that I'm not sure I really want to know? That I'm not sure I'm ready?"

He frowned slightly, confused.

"Kate," Jordan said. "You know and I know that you never, ever should have had to be the one investigating this in the first place."

"No one else would," Kate said quietly. "And I thought that meant I had to."

"I know," Jordan said. "But I'm going to tell you what you should have been told the day your mother was murdered. I'm on the case. And I'm not going to stop until we get the sonofabitch."

Kate closed her eyes, swallowed hard. "You have a family... They go after anyone who gets close."

"I don't plan on letting them know we're close until we've got them pinned against a wall and are reading them their rights," Jordan said. "Which is one of the reasons why we're working this the way we are."

"The third floor," Kate said.

"Yes," Jordan answered. "You'll see it when you're ready to see it. But your boys are working it now, and I've got one of my best computer people up there, giving you access. She'll be staying for a week or so to get things fully operational."

"Doesn't that make us more vulnerable?" Kate asked.

"Give us some credit," Jordan said. "I did say I had one of my best people on it. Even if someone notices the snooping, it will be very difficult for them to trace it even as far as the San Francisco office."

"It still seems like a huge professional risk," Kate said. "Not to mention the personal risk."

Jordan gave Kate a wry half-smile. "Some things are worth fighting for, Detective. Don't you agree? And you're not going to be safe, any of you, until this man is stopped. You deserve closure, but more than that, you deserve a chance to have a life, to find out who you are when this case is done."

"I don't have any idea who I am anymore," Kate said. "I just know this..." she waved at her body, stretched out in the narrow leather recliner, exhaustion evident in every muscle, "This isn't who I am."

Rick looked pained at that admission, but Jordan put a hand on his arm, stilling him, and said, "You'll get it back, Kate. And then some. And you better believe that, Rick Castle. You've never gone wrong, believing in her."

At that, he looked down and smiled. "No, I haven't."

Jordan said, "I was shot. Well, more than once, but the bad one... I was laid up for six months. Longest six months of my life. But I came out of that six months married. And my daughter was born a year and a half later. It still pulls, sometimes, when it rains... but now... I don't regret a minute of it. Gave me time to stop and think. You're already getting around pretty good, Kate, for how badly you were hurt. I think I was still hospitalized at that point, but it's all kind of fuzzy."

Kate's eyes were wide. "Thank you," she said.

"I was not the world's easiest patient," Jordan said, smiling. "And for the first few months, I resented every moment of recovery. I just wanted to wind things back, take it back, duck, make it not happen. But life keeps moving."

"I..." Kate sighed. "I can't ever think losing Roy was worth it," she said. "And I really wish we could have found our way without that kind of kick in the chest." At that, she gave Rick a small smile. "But it's already clear that the dark cloud has a pretty bright lining."

"I'm just glad my profiling skills weren't that far off," Jordan said, with a sly grin. "You two are good together."

"You were right," Kate said, with an answering smile.

"Now, I think I need to go make sure my people are set up properly," Jordan said, "And you look like you need a nap."

Kate shuddered, and then yawned in spite of herself. "I could get to hate sleeping," she muttered.

Jordan laughed. "Ah, but you've got such a comfy pillow."

She walked out without bothering to watch Kate blush.

"Did you tell her about Roy?" Kate asked Rick, when Jordan had gone.

"Roy did, after a fashion," Rick said. "Which is to say, I think she knows he was involved in the initial case, but to what extent... she knows you're still loyal to him, and that he died trying to protect you. But I didn't tell her, and neither did the boys. Truth willing out, and all that."

She pressed her lips together, and nodded, then said, "And you, are you okay?"

"Not really, not yet, but I think I will be," he said. "You need anything?" he said, standing.

"Help me back to bed?" she asked.

Without a word, he stood and waited for the chair to stand her back up, and proffered his elbow for her to hold as they walked slowly back to the bedroom.

Kate had fallen asleep quickly, but Rick couldn't stay still, and went out to find his daughter.

He was surprised to find her alone in her bedroom, with the door open.

"It's pretty here," she said, without looking at him, as he stood in the doorway.

"I don't want to fight with you," he said.

"Do you trust me, Dad?" she said, finally turning her head to look at him. Her face was streaked with tears.

"It's me I don't trust," he said. "You? You're one of the most trustworthy people I've met. On the rare occasion that you've lied to me, or hidden things, it's always been to protect people you care about, or because you needed time to figure things out. You don't always solve problems the way I'd want you to, but you have a knack for finding your way through, and I trust that in the long run, you do the right thing."

"Maybe we shouldn't have ambushed you," she said.

"I'd be lying if I said that I didn't wish that you'd been able to tell me how hard you were struggling," he said, quietly. "And I'd be lying if I told you I'm glad that someone else was the one to comfort you."

He sat down in the window seat next to her, knee to knee. "But I understand it," he said. "It breaks my heart to think of you hurting so bad that you couldn't sleep without someone there, and that I couldn't be there to make the bad dreams go away, but I... I'm glad that Ashley was able to make it better for you. He's a good kid. And it's clear that he cares about you very much."

"Will you give him a chance, Dad?"

"Since he's going to be living here, apparently, I think I'd better."

She threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Dad."

"Just tell me that you're..."

"I know what I need to know, Dad, and you really don't want to know," she said.

"But..."

"You left enough books lying around, and I might have... um... talked to Kate a while back..."

He stared at her for a long moment, and then said, "Kate's a good person to talk to. And if you can't talk to me about something, I'm glad you can talk to her." Then he frowned. "Was that the time you told me about the overseas study program?"

"Nope. She said you never knew I'd talked to her when I asked her about..."

"Right," he said. "At least you know she can keep your confidences."

"She told me I should talk to you."

"She was right," he said.

"And you tend to get squeamish every time I bring up holding hands with a boy. So I thought better of it."

Then he blinked. "So you didn't start because of this..."

She rolled her eyes. "Dad..."

"Right, I don't want to know."

"Which is why I talked to Kate," she said. "Because this?"

"Awkward," he agreed. "I'm the world's coolest dad, but I'm still a dad, and in my mind, you're still six."

She shook her head. "I'm not. I'm really not. I'm seventeen, and according to the state of New York, that makes me able to consent."

"Ah, but the state of California might disagree," he said.

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Look, you're sharing a house with a bunch of cops," he said.

"New York cops," she answered.

"Check the case law," he said.

"Tell me you didn't," she said, frowning.

He shrugged. "I always do my homework." He grinned at her, and stood. "I'm just saying."

She frowned, and then shrugged. "I turn eighteen in October," she said. Then she got a mischievous look and said, "Or he and I could get hitched..."

Rick stopped in the doorway, shot her a look and said, "I am 100% certain you would need my permission for that. And if you think that it's a good idea to marry someone just so you can have legal sex with them, then you... you're yanking my chain."

She grinned. "It's too easy," she said.

"You've been taking Beckett-lessons," he complained, with an exaggerated finger-wag.

"How is she, really?" Alexis asked.

"She's good," he said. "She's alive. She's healing. I think that someday, eventually, she's going to be okay. And maybe I will too."

"And you two are getting very close," Alexis said.

"I love her," he said, simply.

"And she..." Alexis prompted.

"She loves me too," he said, unable to help the smile that crept through.

"I'm glad," Alexis said. "Next time don't let it come to someone getting shot before you tell them how you feel about them."

"There's not going to be a next time," he said reflexively, and her eyes widened.

"You're that serious?" she asked. "And admitting it?"

"I just... If something happened to her, I don't think I could feel that way about someone else. I don't think I'd want to. I don't think I've ever felt this way about anyone."

"You used to fall in love every other week," Alexis said.

"Limerence," he said. "Infatuation. This is... something else entirely."

"I'm happy for you," she said.

"Likewise, even if I'm lousy at showing it."

"Love you, Dad."

"You too, pumpkin. I really did miss you."

The special agents left late in the afternoon, leaving behind their computer technician, a stocky young woman with short, curly hair and glasses, who disappeared into the mysterious war room with a bag of takeout.

Rick climbed to the third floor for the first time since they'd moved into the house. He'd toyed with the idea of putting it off until Kate could make the climb too, but Ashley's presence changed things.

The top floor was darker than the middle story of the house, fewer windows, though the ones that were there were all ornate. The upper floor was all about the house's complex roofline. A tiny bonus room where the lowest roof peaked had been built into what should have been an attic space, and through the open door, two low, narrow beds, neatly made, could be seen, tucked up against the sloping roof in the triangular space. A duffel next to one of the beds belonged to the FBI tech. Unlike the middle and ground floors, where hardwood dominated, most of the rooms were carpeted with a short, functional grey berber.

The large family room that had been turned into a bedroom for Jenny and Ryan had the double doors open, and the high, vaulted ceiling could be seen through them. Martha had done a masterful job of creating a pleasant space for the couple. But it was the smaller guest bedroom, with startlingly blue plush carpet and one, single, high porthole of a window that Castle went to. The bedroom ceiling was peaked, higher than normal in one part, a little lower than normal where the roof sloped down to meet a shortened wall.

Ashley was sitting at the small desk under the window, typing, when Rick knocked on the open door frame.

Rick didn't know how he felt about the fact that the room was dominated by a queen sized bed that looked out-of-proportion for what had surely, at one point, been a child's room. He was still staring at it when Ashley turned around.

"Don't look so terrified," Rick said, as the color washed out of the boy's face.

"Sorry, sir," Ashley said. "I know you don't want me here..."

"I actually came up here to apologize," Rick said.

Ashley frowned. "Apolo..."

"You were there for my daughter, when I couldn't be," Rick said. "If I appear upset, chalk it up to fatherly guilt for abandoning her."

"You hardly abandoned Alexis, sir," Ashley said. He gestured at the bed. "Would you like to sit down?"

Rick came into the room and sat heavily on the bed.

Ashley turned his hair around to face Rick, and said, "You have to know I would never do anything to hurt Alexis."

"If she gets pregnant," Rick started, and then stopped.

"She won't, because we're not doing anything that would get her pregnant," Ashley said.

Rick blinked. "Then why... that... what?"

"I love her, and we talked about it, and I won't say that part of me doesn't want to, but I want it to be... for the right reasons, at the right time. And fear of dying... wasn't the right reason."

"You told her no?" Rick couldn't help asking.

"It was a mutual decision," Ashley said. "I won't risk her getting pregnant before she's even out of high school, and I think I finally managed to convince her that I wasn't going to leave her if she wanted to wait. I just... I think about sex, I'm a guy, but it's not worth hurting her. Does that make sense?"

It did. Rick stared at him for a long, long moment. "Why would she imply to me that..."

"Because she was angry with you, maybe?" Ashley guessed. "Not about not being there, but about not trusting her."

"She told me it was none of my business," Rick said.

"Which it probably isn't," Ashley agreed, "But you're her father, and if I can reassure you about my intentions toward her, I want to."

"What are your intentions?" Rick asked.

"I love her. I know we're young, and I have no idea how college will change us, but she... She's an amazing person, and when I try to imagine what 'better' would look like, nothing comes to mind. I want to stick around for as long as she'll have me. If we're still together when we're done with school, I might ask her... but that's a long way off."

"You're still both so damn young," Rick said.

"I do know that, sir."

"How bad was it?" Rick asked. "After Kate..."

"Bad," Ashley said. "I wasn't there at the funeral, but I know she really cares about Detective Beckett, and I can't imagine what it would be like to see someone you care about almost die that way. I don't even want to think about something happening to my parents, and you... you tried to push her out of the way of the bullet. She wakes up sometimes, and I think she's been dreaming that you were shot, instead of Detective Beckett."

"I feel like I'm supposed to set ground rules, put my foot down, tell you that she can't share a bed with you," Rick said. "But I... I still can't be there when she wakes up. Kate has the same dream. I still have dreams myself. And you... I've always wondered how my daughter could turn out so damn sensible with parents like her mother, and like me, but clearly she has some sense in who she dates. So I'm just going to say thank you, for being there for her, when I couldn't."

Ashley blinked, and then gave a little nod. "I wouldn't hurt her for the world," he said. "Whatever else you worry about, please don't worry about that."

"One more thing," Rick said. "Whatever you do, besides the bathroom, the other rooms on this floor are off limits. Has nothing to do with Alexis, and everything to do with why we're here. Ultimately the less you know, the safer you are."

"After my run-in with that guy at school," Ashley said, "I'm pretty clear about that."

"Run...what happened?" Rick asked, alarmed.

"Right after you guys left town, a guy cornered me, wanted to know where you had gone. I just said I had no idea, because I didn't. He asked where I was going to college, and I told him Yale, and he left. When I told Alexis about it, she flipped, and after that I had a detail too. They never got close to her, though. But Agent Shaw said it wasn't for lack of trying."

"You told him Yale..."

"Right around the time you guys left, Alexis got very vocal at school about how excited she was to be moving to Connecticut, and every time she said it, she'd squeeze my hand. She managed to fill me in on the ruse in a very roundabout way, but I knew that if she was talking about something that... publicly, that's the story I had to give. As far as I know, I'm actually going to be registered at Yale under my name, Agent Shaw has some arrangement worked out."

"Thank you," Rick said.

"I actually didn't know for sure where we were going," Ashley said, "But after the shooting, I told Alexis that I wanted to be where she was, and I didn't give a damn about which school I went to, I wasn't leaving her while she was having such a hard time. I was actually kind of surprised that we ended up here. Good surprised."

"I knew she wanted to be here," Rick said, "And I wasn't ready to let her go, and we needed to be anywhere but New York right then. I actually looked in a few places, but this house, so close to the university... it felt like kismet. I'll keep the house after Kate is done healing, we can rent out some of the rooms to other college students once the situation has settled down."

"It seems like a crime to turn this into a college house," Ashley said. "It's too nice."

"I figure if I let Alexis be the landlady, she'll be careful about who she lets live here," Rick said. "Or I could sell it and buy something a little more roachy..."

"No, that's okay," Ashley said, quickly. "We'll figure out something."

"I don't promise that I'll go easy on you," Rick said. "But I'm going to try."

"As long as there aren't severed heads or guns involved, I figure I'm getting off pretty light," Ashley said. "And you helped me out, before."

"What you said at the precinct hit a little close to home," Rick said.

"Still, thank you," Ashley said.

Rick stood, and moved to the doorway. "We usually eat around seven. Feel free to join us."

"I look forward to it, sir."

"Oh, and you can quit... no, on second thought, keep calling me sir. Maybe it will remind me that you're not the kind of arrogant punk I was at your age," Rick said, with a wry smile.

"Will do, sir," Ashley said, with an answering smile.

The addition of four more people at the dinner table made for a much louder meal.

It felt as if the household was tiptoeing around Rick, until it became apparent that he wasn't about to leap across the trestle table and throttle Ashley with his bare hands. Then, with a little relieved burst, four conversations started seemingly at once.

It was Lanie who noticed the ring on Kevin's hand first, halfway through the meal. "So you guys got those for the cover already?"

Kevin looked at Jenny, and they grinned at each other. "Actually," he said, "they're real."

"You guys got hitched without us there?" Javier said indignantly.

"We're still doing the big party later," Kevin said, "but we decided that a few months in California was going to be a nicer honeymoon than we could have been able to afford on our own later, so we eloped."

"Your mom is going to flip," Javier said.

"She was there," Kevin said with a shrug. "She cried."

"I'm just upset that we didn't get to be there for you," Kate said.

"You'll be there for the big party when you're healthy, Kate," Jenny said. "We just decided that with everything that's happened, we didn't want to wait any longer."

"Hey, what are your cover names?" Javier said. "I forgot to ask."

"Genevieve and Ken O'Reilly," Kevin said.

Rick gave him a long, considering look. "I think I can see it. Hey, if we get you some wire frame glasses and a teddy bear, we could call you Radar..."

"Don't you dare, dude," Kevin said, waving his finger in Castle's direction.

Rick grinned.

"I still can't believe you got hitched, Kev," Javier said.

Lanie patted his hand. "See, honey, when two people love each other very much..."

"Still," Javier said, shaking his head.

"Well, I think it's sweet," Martha said. "Weddings are a huge fuss and bother, all things considered. And sometimes it seems like the bigger the wedding, the worse the marriage, and I should know. Starting small, it gives you lots of room to grow."

"My mother always said that if she'd known how good it would be to be married to my dad, she would have been willing to marry him in a barn, dressed in a feed sack," Jenny said.

"Just so long as that isn't followed by giving birth in a manger," Rick said dryly. "You wouldn't want to set a precedent."

"We just did the city hall thing," Kevin said. "It was simple."

"So when did the big day happen?" Kate asked.

The newlyweds looked at each other again, and grinned. "Yesterday," Jenny said. "In the morning."

The room was silent for a moment, and then burst into a clamor of congratulations and exclamations.

Rick was trying to get a word in edgewise when Kate put her fingers to her mouth and blew a sharp whistle. When the room was silent, Rick said, "In that case... Jordan gave you your ID packets, right?"

Kevin pulled out his wallet, and pulled out his new California driver's license.

Rick nodded. "Good. And there should have been a credit card in your new name, as well."

Kevin nodded.

Rick had a smartphone out, and was tapping something in. "Hand me your card," he said.

"Who pays the bill on it?" Kevin asked.

Javier elbowed him. "Dude, this is Castle you're talking to."

"Right," Kevin said, and handed the card down the table.

Rick turned, and used the phone to make a call. "Yes, I was wondering, is your penthouse available tonight? Until when? Perfect. They'll need late check out. I'd like to reserve it for a couple, they're on their honeymoon. They can be there in about... say half an hour. Yes, the deluxe wedding night package would be perfect." He read the card number aloud and then passed the card back down the table.

"The hotel is about five blocks away," he said. "I don't want to see you two back here until Friday afternoon. G'wan. Git. Javier, you'll drive them? Garden Court."

Javier had his phone out, checked the address, and then nodded. "Got it, boss."

"Order room service," Castle said. "Eat in the restaurant if you want, charge it to the room. Take advantage of the spa. And don't even THINK about coming back here until late checkout on Friday. Got that?"

"Yes, sir," Kevin said, grinning.

"Congratulations, you two," Rick said. "And we'll have that party when things get back to normal."

They stood, and Jenny came over to Kate's seat. "It really is good to see you looking so much better," Jenny said, with a warm handclasp. "We've been worried."

"I'm feeling better," Kate said. "I'm starting to believe I might actually get back to normal some day."

"Were you ever normal?" Javier asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Normal for me. Vastly superior as far as you're concerned, Esposito," she shot back.

"She is feeling better," Kevin said to no one in particular, smiling.

After the newlyweds had gone, Kate said to Rick, "I wish I didn't feel like this just totally derailed everyone's lives."

"They weren't unhappy, Kate," he said.

"I think it's romantic," Alexis said. "And that was nice of you, to send them to that hotel."

"That, my dear," Rick said, "was self-preservation. Do you have any idea how sappy those two are going to be for the next couple days?"

Kate snorted. "You're just a big softie," she said.

"Well, you know," he muttered.

"It's okay," she said. "You're my big softie."

At that, he grinned at her.

"Watch it," Lanie said, "Or we'll ship you two off to a hotel to make dovey eyes at each other."

"I don't know about the rest of you," Martha said, "But I'm in the mood for a game. What do you have, Richard?"

"Lots. Poker?"

"Too mercenary," Martha said. "And you have all the chips. How about Canasta?"

He blanched. "We've got at least six different Scrabble variants."

Kate cocked her head to one side and said, "Are you afraid to play Canasta with your mother?"

"Petrified," he said.

"I'll be on your team," Kate said, grinning.

"Do you have any idea how many cards it takes to play Canasta with six people?" Rick asked. "And we've got seven anyway. We need pairs."

"Oh, I'm out," Lanie said. "I'm heading upstairs for some quality time with my bath and a book."

"That leaves six," Alexis said. "I think it will be fun."

When the dinner dishes were cleared and done, Rick pulled three decks of cards out of the library, and they played until Kate fell asleep mid-hand, the large spread tipping gently against her chest. When Martha put a hand out to wake her, Kate opened her eyes, blinked, looked at her cards and the table, and went out, winning the game handily.

"She beat you in her sleep, Mother," Rick said, astonished.

"Shut up, Richard, and take her to bed." Martha said, rolling her eyes.

Kate yawned, and said, "I'm not tired."

"Katie," Jim said, in a warning tone of voice.

"Fine," she said, yawning again. Rick stood and held out a hand, waiting while her chair helped her to a stand.

"I'll clean up the cards," Alexis said.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Rick said. "Goodnight all."

"That went surprisingly well," Ashley said, once Rick and Kate were gone.

"He's not hard to talk around," Martha said. "He just needs time to adjust. And a translator, now and then."

"Wish I had one," Ashley said.

"You do," Alexis said. "You have us."

"Thank you for taking me under your wings," Ashley said to Jim and Martha. "I know this wouldn't have been anywhere near as smooth without you two."

"Oh, we didn't do all that much," Martha said. "And trust me, after what those two put each of us through when they were your age, you two are a piece of cake. If I'd known how much easier grandchildren would be, I would have had them first."

Jim grinned, and shook his head. "You can say that again. Welcome to the family, 'son'," he said to Ashley, giving him a clap on the arm. "Such as it is."

"You know, I was terrified, coming here," Ashley said. "But now that I'm here... I think it's going to be okay. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now."

Alexis squeezed his hand, and then resumed sorting the cards back out into the individual decks.

Kate woke, alone, just after dawn. Getting to the bathroom was no longer the danger-fraught adventure it had been a few weeks prior, and she was pleased that she still had enough stamina to walk, unassisted, out to the kitchen.

The unmistakable rhythmic sound of a gloved fist hitting a punching bag in the therapy room drew her through the kitchen and past the breakfast nook.

She stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the therapy room for a long moment, watching Rick systematically beat the leather punching bag that hung near the far corner of the room. He was wearing an undershirt and boxers, and sweat ran down his back. But it was the set look on his jaw as he moved that really caught her.

"Whose face are you imagining there?" she finally asked.

He caught the bag and turned, and gave her a rueful smile. "Mine, actually."

"You're getting pretty good at that," she said. "The boxing, not the trying to beat your own face in."

"Javi's been coaching me, since I damaged myself on Lockwood's face," he said. "But I save the bare knuckle workout for when he's here to keep me from hurting myself."

"Looks like you were doing a pretty good job of trying," she said, moving over to the weight bench nearest him, and straddling the narrow bench.

"Just... She let me believe she'd started having sex with him."

"You know that's not her style," Kate said.

"She said she talked to you..."

"She did," Kate said.

"Can I know when?" he asked, toweling sweat from his neck and forehead.

"It was right after the bomb," Kate said. "She felt like she had almost lost you, and possibly Ashley too, that weekend. That kind of thing can make waiting seem..."

"Yeah," he said. "I get it. I don't like it, but I get it."

"I told her that it was one thing to live every day to the fullest, and another thing to behave recklessly because there was a one in a billion chance things might go to hell in the next 24 hours. And then I gave her the name of my gynecologist, because she's seventeen, and I understand her pediatrician..."

His eyes widened. "Her pediatrician is a million years old, and has been seeing her since she was a baby, and he's very paternal with her. Your doctor..."

"She's very easy to talk to," Kate said. "She's, oh, in her early forties, and very matter of fact. Alexis said she went, but that's all I know. I told her that what she talked about with her doctor was between her and her doctor, but if that she had any questions for me, I'd be there to answer them."

"At her age I was... quite active," he said.

Kate looked down and then said, "Yeah, me too."

"I'm just not ready," he said. "I'm not ready for her to be ready for that."

"And she's not, and that's a credit to both of you," Kate said. "And to her boyfriend, as I understand it. One of the things I told her was that anyone you had to sleep with in order to get them to stay wasn't in it for the right reasons or for the long haul, especially not at her age."

"You're a wise, wise woman," he said. "Thank you for being there for her."

"One of my cruder boyfriends used to say that some people learn from the experience of others, some learn from books, and other people have to pee on the electric fence for themselves," Kate said.

"I peed on a lot of fences," Rick said. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

"Yeah, you really don't want to try it with the real kind," Kate said, shuddering.

He stared at her for a long moment, and said, "There are layers to you that I will never fully unwrap, aren't there?"

She grinned. "But you'll have fun trying."

"I keep trying to figure out how the hell I could have made it better for her, figured out how much she was hurting, sooner," he said.

"Sometimes, you can't," Kate answered. "But she's here now, and I think we're finally safe, for now."

"I wish I was going with you today," he said.

"We can't take the risk of someone recognizing you," she answered. "And they're much more likely to recognize both of us if we're together. Lanie and Dad are both coming with, and I think they're glad to finally have a chance to help a little more concretely. And it's just an MRI."

"I still say we could have put one in the garage," he said.

"You don't need to buy a multimillion dollar piece of equipment just so that I don't have to leave the house for a test. That kind of purchase would draw far more suspicion. And we've got the center visit afterward. Worried you'll miss me?"

"I know I'll miss you," he said.

She smiled. "You're really a big sap, you know?"

He grinned. "But I'm your big sap."

"Not as big as you used to be," she said, nodding in the general direction of his waistline. "You're getting to be in some pretty good shape there."

"I wasn't in bad shape," he said. "But it's good to have people to work out with. Do my muscles make you hot?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows and striking a pose.

"Careful, McManStud..." she said, trying not to laugh. "You'll get my heart rate up."

"Ooo baby," he said. "You like sweaty men in muscle shirts?"

At her expression, he cocked his head. "You do. You really, really do, don't you, Katherine Beckett."

She looked innocently upwards and said, "I take the fifth."

He grinned. "Well, at least I know what to get you for your birthday, then."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Nope, not going to tell you," he said. "It'll be a surprise." He straddled the weight bench behind her, and gave her a damp hug from behind. "A sweaty, sweaty surprise."

"I... um... can't wait?" she said, sounding skeptical. "You need a shower."

"You could take one with me," he said.

"You sure you can handle that?" she asked.

"I'm very sure I can. I'm not sure you can," he said.

"Oh, I can handle it," she said. "You had them install a shower chair. I can be sitting down the whole time."

"Wouldn't want to tire you out," he said. "You have a big day."

"For most of which I will be lying down," she said.

"Oh, I have something for you, for the MRI," he said.

"Yeah?"

"You'll find out when you get there," he said. "Lanie has it."

"You gonna help me back to the shower?" she asked. "So I can save my energy?"

He grinned, and helped her to her feet.

*

She'd had several doctor visits at the house, and plenty of bloodwork, but this would be her first true foray off the property since they'd come to California more than two weeks prior. Almost four weeks had passed since the shooting.

It was also the first time she'd seen the household vehicles. She was a little bit astonished to discover that one of them was a small electric car, and the other was a minivan. "No Ferrari?" she asked Rick, as he helped her into one of the middle bucket seats of the minivan.

"Convertibles don't have tinted windows," he said. "And we're trying to keep a low profile. Since no one who knows me would ever believe I'd drive a minivan, and it's the easiest entry and exit, it seemed like a good idea."

"It sounds like Lanie's idea," Kate said, laughing.

"The two aren't mutually exclusive, you know," Lanie said, from the other middle seat.

"Your ideas are usually good ones," Kate said, appeasingly. "As long as you're sober."

"Duh," Lanie said, and buckled her belt.

"You know the way, Jim?" Rick asked.

"Just straight up the street until we see the big building," Jim said.

Rick looked slightly worried, until Jim rolled his eyes. "It's in the GPS, you already checked that."

"I know where you got your sense of humor," Rick said to Kate.

"Oh, Mom was way, way worse than him," Kate said. "We'll be fine, quit clucking."

"Brawk," Rick said, flapping his elbows, and then leaned in for a quick kiss. "Don't forget the thing," he said to Lanie.

"I've got it," she answered, exasperated. "Shoo."

He thumbed the button to close Kate's sliding door, and stood back to watch them go.

Half an hour later, Kate grinned when, instead of music, Rick's voice came through the headphones. He'd apparently found time to record himself reading the first Harry Potter book aloud. She wondered at the choice, and resolved to ask him about it later. But it was a familiar enough story that the noise didn't manage to prevent her from following it, and she let his voice and the story wrap around her like a comforting blanket as the machine gun noise of the MRI sounded in the background.

After the test was complete, Lanie helped her get back into her street clothes, as bending was still a challenge, and the three of them walked into the consultation room down the hall. Jim excused himself, saying he'd be waiting for them in the lobby.

She'd met the doctor before, at the house, a thin, angular man in his late thirties.

"So tell me the good news," Kate said.

The man cracked a smile, the first smile she'd ever seen on him, and said, "Actually, I am quite pleased with your progress. The clots are almost gone. Your genetics results are back, and you are, quite miraculously, clear of any of the currently known heritable thrombophilias."

"So how long do I need to stay on the thinners?" she asked.

"We'll wait until the clots have entirely resolved, then check back three months after that. If you're still clear, we'll wean you off then."

She closed her eyes, and smiled. Less time than she'd feared. "And the injury?"

"Your liver is still recovering, and from your INR, I can see you've had a hard time staying stable on the warfarin, probably because of that. But you'll be seeing our complementary medicine clinic after this, and I've had some good results working with them to help our patients stabilize liver function. I understand you've the equipment to check your INR at home?"

"I've been doing it," Lanie said. "Her... husband bought a coagucheck, so she wouldn't have to come out all the time to get her finger poked."

"You'll want to keep checking frequently to stay on top of things when she adds supplements. Checking every other day is a luxury insurance doesn't usually allow us, but it will help us keep ahead of the curve when you're making changes."

"Can I start being a little more... aggressive in physical therapy?" Kate asked.

"You're not even a month out from the initial injury," the doctor said. "I'd like to see at least six weeks, and preferably eight before you do anything higher impact than walking or stair-climbing. The insult to your body was tremendous, and while I truly appreciate your desire to get well quickly, the last thing we need to do right now is have you re-injure yourself."

"She just wants to know when she can get frisky with her man," Lanie said, ignoring the appalled look that Kate sent her way.

The doctor smiled. "Again, you need to give the injury time to fully heal. We'll see you back here in four weeks and make a determination at that point. Even then we'll be suggesting that you stick to less... vigorous options for a while."

"Do I still have a heart rate restriction?" Kate asked.

He flipped to a chart, glanced at her file, and then said, "Keep it below 140. 150 is acceptable for very short bursts."

"We've been keeping her lower than that," Lanie said.

"I don't see a problem with letting her get up to 140 during therapy, and if she gets up to 150, as long as she's only there a short time, it's not a big concern," he said. "That should give you some more latitude in stamina-building."

"Whatever gets me better, fastest," Kate said.

The complementary medicine clinic was on a different floor, but not too far away, and Kate was able to walk the distance, stopping only once at a conveniently placed bench to catch her breath.

Lanie offered to get a wheelchair, but Kate waved her off.

The clinic was on the top floor. Bright and spacious, with growing plants everywhere, it looked... zen. "Bet you $50 they had a feng shui designer up here," Lanie whispered, as Jim went to check 'Katya Alexander' in.

"No bet," Kate whispered back.

A perky young woman came out and said, "Follow me, please."

Lanie followed her back to an office filled with books ranging from what appeared to be highly technical medical textbooks to sheer mummery. "You sure about this?" Lanie asked, skeptically.

"I've got you here to keep the snake oil at bay," Kate said, "but at this point, I'm willing to give just about anything a shot if it will get me better faster."

A petite, middle aged woman with greying dark hair pulled back into a bun, wearing a heavy pendant made out of amber, knocked on the open door, and then came in to sit down behind the desk. "I'm Dr. Ellis," she said. "You must be Katya?"

"Kate is fine," Kate said.

"Kate, then. I'm looking over your results from Dr. Williams downstairs, and he thought we might be able to help support your liver function a bit better." She flipped through the chart in her hand, and said, "I see you recently came off of hormonal contraception?"

Kate nodded. "Not by choice."

"I understand," the doctor said. "The warfarin complicates things, but if resuming normal cycles presents difficulties, we do have options which should help. Have you ever tried acupuncture?"

Kate shook her head.

"How is your pain level, from the injury?" the doctor asked.

"I'm not taking meds for it anymore," Kate said.

"That's … not quite what I asked," Dr. Ellis said, with a small smile. "I understand you were shot..."

"I am... was... in law enforcement," Kate said. Lanie shot her a strange look.

"You're probably pretty good at toughing through pain. But even so, I really would like to know if you're still having significant pain, and under what circumstances."

Kate looked at Lanie, and hesitated. Lanie stood up, and said, "I'll step out for a minute. I'll come back in when you're ready."

Kate watched her go, and then said, "There's always some pain, no matter what. A rib was damaged by the shot..."

"I've broken ribs before," the doctor said. "It can take a few months for that to get better. Sometimes up to six months."

"When I'm sitting or lying down, and not doing much, the pain isn't too bad. When I'm walking, it's worse. It's pretty bad when I'm in therapy, but I can usually hide it. And there are different kinds of pain... the sharp, stabbing when I do too much, the dull ache when I'm tired. Sometimes it just burns..."

"You need to know that chronic pain can change your brain," the doctor said. "In the long run, it is usually better to do what you need to do to manage the pain early on, rather than letting those pathways get 'set'."

"I won't do narcotics anymore," Kate said. "And the warfarin rules out ibuprofen and Aleve. I'm really, really worried about my next period."

"We do have some options," Dr. Ellis said. "Acupuncture is very, very good for pain management."

"I can't leave the house for treatments most of the time," Kate said. "And can they use the needles when I'm anticoagulated?"

"The warfarin isn't a problem, we don't see increased bleeding with acupuncture for warfarin patients, and the needles are so fine that any bleeding that does happen is easily stopped. I understand we have an arrangement for home care," Dr. Ellis answered. "I think our acupuncturist will be able to accommodate home visits. And I'd like to put you on a set of supplements. They're herbs, and they may alter your INR in the short term, but should make it more stable in the long term. We did some blood work last week when this appointment was made, and while overall, for someone with the kind of liver damage you experienced, you appear to be in quite good health, I'm a bit concerned about some of your vitamin and mineral levels, as well." She handed over a list.

Kate looked down and said, "That's a lot of pills."

"Capsules, most of them," the doctor said. "And most are once or twice a day, so you can have your friend set you up a dosette and it shouldn't be too hard."

"These can really help?"

"I can show you the studies for each and every one of them," the doctor said, smiling slightly. "Some of them you will only need to take until your blood levels get back up to where they should be. Some of them you'll find useful enough to take for the rest of your life."

"Fish oil?" Kate asked. "My dad takes that."

"Good fats will help you heal faster," the doctor said. "You're underweight as it is."

"I'm trying," Kate said. "They keep plying me with ice cream."

"I have a list of dietary recommendations as well," the doctor said. "If you have the money to follow them, I think you'll find they're actually tastier than the way you're used to eating."

"Money is... not a problem," Kate said. She looked down at the list. "Access might be."

"Turn the list over," the doctor said.

On the back were a list of local resources for the organic produce and grass-fed meats listed on the front.

"I thought I needed to avoid too much salad?" Kate said.

"You need to be consistent," the doctor answered. "If money really is no object, you might even consider having a private nutritional therapist come help your family with food prep until they've got the system down."

"Ri... my husband would really love that," Kate said. "A private chef."

The doctor flipped through some files in her desk, pulled out another piece of paper, circled two names, and handed it to Kate. "I recommend both of those, highly. Now, we stock most of the supplements here, or you can order them yourself. I like our brand, but I'm not here to sell pills."

"I'll need to run it by my friend," Kate said. "She's a physician."

"Of course," Dr. Ellis said. "If it helps, I did consult with Dr. Williams about the supplements I want to put you on."

"It does, thank you."

The doctor stood, and opened the door, and invited Lanie in.

Kate handed the papers to Lanie without a word. Lanie flipped through, and said, "Milk thistle?"

"Supports liver function, should stabilize her INR," the doctor answered, without hesitation.

"Vitex?" Lanie asked.

"Cycle regulation, should make her periods easier and more regular. Oh, it does tend to make people more fertile."

"Which isn't helpful at this point," Kate said.

"I can give you a handout on fertility awareness. One of the upsides is that it makes that method more...easy to use."

"That's okay," Kate said. "We have an expert in the house." Her dry tone made Lanie laugh. "And as I've been told repeatedly, I'm not allowed."

"Dandelion root?" Lanie asked.

"Supports the liver and kidneys."

"R-lipoic acid?"

"You probably know more about alpha lipoic acid," the doctor answered. "This is the R-isomer, and it's more potent and less toxic than the racemic compound. But it has a protective effect against metabolic toxins and should make her better able to use the antioxidants I've prescribed. It should also give her an energy boost, and reduce some of her pain issues. And since it's so good at preventing damage from toxins, it's ideal, given the liver issue."

"I recognize the rest," Lanie said. "We'll need to really watch her INR when we're adding these."

"I'm right here," Kate said.

"Sorry, honey," Lanie said. "Just trying to be efficient. Dr. Williams knows about all these?"

"I talked to him this morning," Dr. Ellis said. "Kate, I understand you already have a massage therapist?"

Kate nodded. "And a physical therapist, and an occupational therapist, although I'm losing her in a week or two, as soon as I can manage to grab my own damn pants from the floor. They all say they could do more if I was off the thinners."

"Well, I think the acupuncturist will be a good addition to the mix. Schedule him for your off days, acupuncture is surprisingly... draining."

"I thought bleeding wasn't a significant concern," Kate said.

"It's not, it's just most people find the treatments surprisingly tiring." The doctor smiled. "But worth it. If the acupuncture isn't making you feel significantly better in a week, we'll try something else."

"Anything that helps," Kate said.

*Private Therapy: Five

She let him strip her naked out of habit, but when he moved to help her into the tub, she waved him off, and said, “Oh no, you first,” and leaned against the wall next to the door.

He shot her a confused look, and then moved to take off his sweaty undershirt. “You're watching me,” he said, suddenly self-conscious.

“I like watching sweaty men strip,” she said in a low voice. “Is that a problem, Castle.”

His mouth went dry and he swallowed, and he said, “Nope. Whatever you want, Kate.”

She watched him with a grin playing across her mouth as he awkwardly pushed his boxers down. Awkwardly, because something about the tone of her voice had... impeded the process.

“Go on, get in the shower,” she said, when he finally stepped out of them.

“I should help...” he started, but she just tipped her head and gave a little shake.

“You're beginning to scare me,” he muttered, stepping into the tub, and then holding out a hand for her.

She let him steady her as she stepped over the wall of the tub, and waited while he turned the water on, standing close behind him, but not quite touching.

He started to turn once the water was flowing out of the shower heads, but she put a hand on his shoulder, squared herself, and snapped, in her best NYPD voice, “Hands up against the wall, Castle.”

His knees actually sagged a little as he said, “Kate, what...” but he complied reflexively, slapping his hands up next to the shower head.

She let herself press against his back then, lightly, and in the same voice said, “Call me Beckett.”

“Jesus,” he said, his head dropping forward. “You can't... Beckett...” The last came out in a near groan.

“Oh, I think you'll find that I can,” she said. “You see, I figured something out.”

She let a hand trail down his wet side, slowly, teasing, wrapping around, to come firmly to rest on his extremely erect cock.

“You've been holding out on me, Writer-boy.”

“Kate....”

“Beckett,” she snapped, and grinned against his shoulder as his cock surged against her hand. “My turn.”

His voice came out in a cracked whisper. “What do you have in mind, Beckett?”

“You know and I know that I can't do everything I want to do to you,” she said. “But I also know that as much as you like my body...”

“It's considerably more than like,” he muttered.

“As much as you like my body,” she repeated, “that's not what you stuck around for, was it?”

He shook his head, the water cascading down his back between them.

“I have a theory,” she said. “Care to build some theory with me?”

She took the slightly strangled groan as a 'yes'.

At that, she released him, ran a hand up to his wrist, and said, “I'm going to need a little help.”

He made as if to turn, but she kept just enough pressure on his wrist to keep him in place. “Not that kind of help,” she said, and guided his hand down. “What were the rules again? Right. You do the work. Trust me. I'll let you know if I need to stop.”

When both of their hands were on his cock, she let go, stepped back, and sat down on the shower chair. He started to turn again, but she snapped, “Back against the wall, Castle.”

When he complied, she said, “My theory is that what you think about when you're... how did you put it... getting your rocks off... is me.”

“You wouldn't be wrong,” he mumbled.

“But it's more than that, isn't it?” she said. “And please, do, touch yourself.”

“I want to look at you,” he said.

“But you don't need to look at me, do you?” she said. “You have it in your mind, already. And I'm going to guess.”

She grinned as he sagged a little against the wall. “I'm thinking you're picturing us... not the way we were, but the way we could have been. Which case?”

“Too many...” he mumbled.

“Yes, but do you like the ones where it really wouldn't have happened, or the ones where it almost did?”

“Almost...” She wasn't sure if the word came out of his lips as a question or a prayer or an answer, but she decided to go with it.

“You want to know the one I think about?” she asked.

“Always,” he murmured, head hanging down in the spray, hand working slowly as he listened.

“I think about after the freezer. I was so cold... if he hadn't come back...”

“Tell me,” he rasped. “What would you have done?”

“In my mind it goes like this,” she said. “We're there, and cold, and it just makes more sense to have the two of us wearing two blankets than stand there freezing in one... Someone takes us back to your apartment, and we make our way inside. You offer me a drink, something hard and potent.”

“Scotch.”

“It burns like fire going down, but that cold... You make your excuses to Alexis and Martha to get them out of town, but they assume... what they'd probably be very right to assume. Which is a relief to both of us, since it means they leave not-scared, and laughing, and that's good.”

“Still a bomb out there,” he said.

“We know we're going back out soon, we know our chances aren't great, and that makes it easier somehow, to throw caution to the winds,” she said, closing her eyes to picture it.

“Who makes the first move?” he asked.

She grinned. “You make a quip about the fastest way to warm up involving two naked bodies and a sleeping bag. You're quoting the X-files, and I call you on it.” That got a chuckle from him, whether at the reference, or that she knew the reference and knew he'd think of it, she didn't know.

“And then I say, 'Well, we are in a hurry...' and you stare at me with that stunned puppy look you get when I manage to shock you, but it doesn't take much effort to get you to show me where the nearest pile of down comforters is.”

“I don't expect that it would,” he agreed.

“I feel your eyes following my every move while I strip, and while normally I'd go slow and tease you, I really am that cold, and there's just about nothing I want more than to be skin to skin under the covers. You slide into bed with me... it's a little awkward for a moment, but then I tell you to shut up and kiss me, and that's when we start to get warm.”

“And then?” he asked.

“And then I feel your lips on mine, your legs entwined with mine, your hands on my skin, and I'm so fucking grateful that I can finally feel you touching me. Grateful that the cruel joke of finally being in your arms and not being able to feel it was just temporary.”

“How grateful?” he said.

“It doesn't feel like there's any way for us to touch enough skin to possibly get warm... and I can feel you, hard between us. It is the simplest thing in the world to push you onto your back, straddle you, and let you slide home. It feels... desperate and inevitable and fucking fantastic, and somehow my toes are finally warm.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, still leaning forward into the spray, where she told him to be, his hand working, and she realized that his shoulders were shaking slightly. Standing behind him, she slid back against his wet skin, and said, “Feeling you stretching me, pushing in, surrounding you, I ride you, and the warmth just keeps radiating, until we are blessedly, thankfully too hot, and the covers slide off.”

“There was sunshine, that morning,” he said. “I would have been able to see...”

“I see you look up at me, and you do... something... and I lose it completely,” she said, sliding her hands down his sides. “And you feel it, and follow me.” She raked her fingernails lightly back up his sides. “You let go.”

And he did, his body tightening and shaking as release came, as she held him far more lightly than she wanted to.

“Fuck,” he hissed, as it passed.

“Give me a month,” she said. “We'll get there.”

He turned in the spray, and caught her, a hand behind her head, one behind her back, and kissed her roughly. His mouth felt desperate against hers, but his hand on her back was controlled, gentle. Too soon, he released her, a hand straying to her ass, more supportive than groping, as he held her as tightly as he dared, his mouth dropping to rest lightly on her shoulder.

She could feel his lips moving against her skin when he finally spoke. “It would have gone just like that, but it would have been so hard to get out of bed again and go stop the damn bomb.”

“We'd have done it,” she said. “And then come home again afterward, and found each other again.”

“I never could figure out how he could ever tear himself away from you to go off to save the world,” he said. “Every time you said he was out of town, I just remember thinking, 'If Katherine Beckett gave me her heart and her body, I could never give it up. Screw the rest of the world.'”

“No, you just saved the world holding my hand,” she said, chuckling.

“Not the world,” he said with an answering chuckle. “Just you, and me, and a couple of blocks Manhattan. The way you were looking at me, those last seconds, all I wanted to do in that moment was live long enough to make you look at me that way again.”

“But you'll have to go sometimes. You'll have book tours,” she said. “Trips to LA, movie premieres.”

“Not if it means leaving you,” he said. “And not until we solve the case.”

“Isn't Paula going to flip?” she asked.

“She already did, and it was pointed out to her that a reclusive writer is better than a dead one, or one without a muse. She said she already figured out how to capitalize on it.”

“Do I want to know?” Kate asked.

“Probably not,” he said. “I won't let her tell me either.”

“You'd just give it all up, all the perks of fame?” she asked.

“Perks? Try punishment,” he said. “And yes, in a heartbeat.”

“I don't want you to have to change for me,” she said.

“Too late,” he said.

“It will be okay,” she said, “someday, for you to do the things you have to do without me. Because I know you'll come back as soon as you can, and that you won't constantly be wishing you were somewhere else.”

He kissed her again, the water from the dual shower heads surrounding them, until her knees started to give way.

She was breathless when he let her go, and sank without resistance to the chair. “You okay?” he asked.

She looked up at him, and grinned. “So much more than okay. And no, I'm not exhausted.”

“I felt your knees start to go,” he said.

“You were kissing me,” she said. “What did you expect? Besides, turnabout is fair play.”

He smiled broadly, pleased. “You, Katherine Beckett, do not fight fair.”

“With you?” she asked. “That would take all the fun out of it. So, you like my theory?”

“You know I always love building theory with you,” he said.

“You ever going to tell me why it is you weren't telling me that kind of story?”

He looked away. “I...”

“Oh,” she said. “No, I get it. Just... You have to know, it's not going to kill me to know that strong-me turns you on more than injured-me. I'd wonder at your motives if you preferred me weak.”

“You may be injured,” he said, “But you're still one of the strongest, sexiest women I've ever had the privilege of knowing. And your theory, that you could bring me to my knees with words alone... I have to say, it seems pretty plausible.”

“I didn't see you hit your knees,” she said.

“I was damned lucky I managed to stay upright,” he said. “Smart of you to have me prop myself against the wall first.”

“A stroke of genius?” she asked.

“You've clearly been hanging out with the Castle clan too long, with that kind of pun,” he said.

“Or not nearly long enough,” she answered, and reached past him for the soap, deliberately brushing against him.

“Touché,” he said, running his hands through her hair.

“Oh, trust me, Rick, I haven't even gotten started,” she said, slicking her hands, and then running them down his backside.

“I'm a dead man,” he said, laughing.

Rick was in his study, typing, when he heard the front door open. Curious, he walked out the library door, through the living room, just in time to see the computer technician who had come with Agent Shaw taking a paper bag from a man at the front door. Rick recognized him as part of the protective detail that had been on the house, in shifts, since they'd gotten there.

The small, brown-haired woman didn't make eye contact with the agent, but when the door closed, Rick said, "Hi, I don't think we've been introduced."

Without looking at him, the woman sighed, reached down, pulled a card out of her pants pocket, slapped it into his proffered hand, and disappeared up the stairs.

Rick blinked for a moment, and then looked at the card in his hand. It said simply, "I don't parse spoken speech, and I prefer to avoid face to face contact with people due to a sensory processing disorder. If you need to communicate with me, please use text only, at the following email address. Please use the security key provided— Renny Jones"

There was an email address at the bottom, and a string of characters. Rick contemplated it for a long moment, and then went back to his laptop.

Ms. Jones, he wrote. I understand you'll be staying with us to get things set up. Please make yourself at home. If there's anything you need, let someone know. We can send food up, if necessary, if you don't care to join us for meals. —Rick

He entered the encryption key and sent it, and was startled at how quickly the reply came.

Call me Renny. I have very specific foods that I will and won't eat, so it won't be necessary. The agents outside know my requirements.

He pondered that for a moment, and then replied.

Renny, I'm happy to provide what you need, food-wise. Just let us know what we can do to make you comfortable.

The reply came quickly. Avoid loud music and bright lights where I am, and don't ask me to make eye contact or pay attention when people talk, and we'll be fine. I'm just here to work with the computers.

He looked at the screen, bemused, then shrugged, and got back to work.

"You're being awfully quiet," Kate said to Lanie on the way home.

"Just looking these things up," Lanie said, holding up a bottle filled with vitamins. "Trying to get a sense of what we might be seeing in the next few days with your INR."

"What does that even mean?" Kate asked. "I know I'm supposed to hit a target, but I have no clue what exactly you're measuring."

"Stands for International Normalized Ratio," Lanie said, absentmindedly. "Glad you asked?"

Kate reached over and swatted Lanie gently on the arm.

"Short answer: It measures the time to clotting. A larger number means you're more anticoagulated and will take longer to clot. But it's measuring several different factors. Google it if you're that curious."

"I will," Kate said. "How many of those bottles are there?"

"You don't want to think about it," Lanie said.

"It makes me crazy to think about adding more pills," Kate said.

Lanie looked at her. "So far, from what I'm reading, these actually might actually help you get more functional, faster. Still opposed?"

"Theoretically, no. But just the idea of that many what, capsules? Tablets?"

"Both," Lanie said. "And gel caps. Can't forget those."

"Makes me feel old," Kate said.

"I heard that," her dad said from the driver's seat.

"Sorry, Dad." Kate leaned back. "Tell me I'm not scheduled for anything else today?"

"You're not," Lanie said, putting the bottle back and digging out another one.

"How often do I have to take those things?"

"Breakfast and dinner," Lanie said. "Most of them are with-food."

"That many pills, they might as well be breakfast," Kate muttered.

Rick met them at the side door, took one look at Kate, and said, "Naptime?"

"She should have her first doses of some of these," Lanie said, holding up the big bag of pills.

"How was your foray out into the big bad world?" Rick asked.

"We went from one garage to another," Kate said. "I don't think I actually was out of doors off the property. One of these days I'm going to want to go somewhere, and actually do something." A yawn caught her off guard.

"Right," Rick said, chuckling as he offered her his arm. "After you nap. Maybe next week. Or something."

"I'll be in in a few minutes with your meds," Lanie said. "Oh, and Rick, we need a chef. Nutritional specialist. For Kate."

He gave a grand flourish with his free hand. "Make it so."

"I'll make you so," Lanie muttered, but she was smiling as she started unloading pill bottles onto the counter.

Kate had managed to gag down her third batch of pills the next morning, sitting at the kitchen counter with Lanie after breakfast. Oddly enough, the big gelcaps filled with oil weren't the worst. The worst were the capsules, which wanted to get stuck on the way down. And there were quite a lot of them, ranging from tiny capsules of white lipoic acid to large capsules filled with green powders. She finally got the last of them down, and said to Lanie, "You really think these will keep my period from being so bad?"

"There's enough research that I'll give a tentative 'yes, hopefully,'" Lanie said.

"At least I'm not due for another week, week and a half," Kate said.

Lanie nodded, and then blinked, and frowned. "Wait, what day is it?" She pulled out her phone, flipped through to her calendar, and her eyes widened.

"What?" Kate asked.

"I..." Lanie stuck her phone back in her pocket, frowned, and said, "I'll be right back." She disappeared into the therapy room for a few minutes, then came back to the kitchen. "Can I use your bathroom?" she asked. In her hand, she had a ziplock baggie full of little mauve foil packets, and a plastic glass.

"Sure," Kate said. There was a tiny little half bath near the front door, but it was often in use in the busy house.

Lanie disappeared through the laundry room door, and curious, Kate followed, sitting down on the bed to wait.

About two minutes later, Lanie's voice came muffled through the bathroom door. "Kate, you out there?"

"Yep," Kate said.

"Can you come in here, please?" Lanie's voice was tight and tense, and Kate felt a little rush of concern.

She pushed the door open hesitantly, to find Lanie sitting, dressed, on a closed toilet. A cup of yellow liquid sat on the side of the tub, and two small pink and white test strips lay flat in front of it.

Kate stared at them. "Are those what I think they are?"

"If you think they're cheap-ass pregnancy tests, yes," Lanie said.

Kate bent over to look at them. "I see two lines. Well, four, but two lines per test. Why did you have pregnancy tests in the therapy room?"

"That's the best you can come up with?" Lanie asked. "Life changing lines, and you want to know why I had tests?"

"I'm kind of waiting to figure out whether this is something you're happy about or not," Kate said gently.

"Me too, honey. Me too." Lanie stared at the tiny little strips as if they were somehow explosive.

"So why did you have..." Kate looked at the ziplock bag, "...a couple dozen pregnancy tests on hand?"

"That whole bag cost less than a drugstore test. You're on coumadin," Lanie said. "And if you did accidentally get pregnant, we'd have to know pretty much ASAP. The stuff causes birth defects."

"True irony," Kate said. "You all worried about me getting pregnant accidentally..."

"Shut up," Lanie said, fighting a little smile. "Seriously, what the hell am I going to do?"

"Have a baby?" Kate asked. "Don't? What will Javi think?"

"Did you see the look on that boy's face when the wedding rings came out?" Lanie said.

"Still, you don't know..." Kate said. "Not until you tell him."

"Castle is never going to let me live this down," Lanie said. "After I was lecturing him..."

Kate tried not to smile, and failed. "I strongly suspect he will be harder on Esposito. Are those things accurate?"

"No reason they shouldn't be," Lanie said. "But I might run to the store and get another test, just to be sure..."

"I would, well, if I was up to running anywhere," Kate said. "Just leave that, you can use the same sample. Be all scientific about it."

"Hah," Lanie said. "Just don't tell anyone."

"Right," Kate said, stepping back into the bedroom to let Lanie out.

She sat down on the bed, and stared off into space, completely bemused.

A minute later, Rick came in, and said, "Any idea why Lanie just ran out of here like a bat out of hell?"

Kate blinked, and realized the bathroom door was open, and stood up quickly to reach out and shut it. Too quickly. She yelped a little as her injury pulled sharply. Rick was in front of her, catching her. "I'll help you to the bathroom if you..."

"No!" Kate said, trying to reach past him to shut the door, but it was too late.

He blinked, and said, "That's not, that can't be... you're not..."

"No," Kate said, pulling the door shut, finally. "You know that."

"Then... oh..."

"You didn't see anything," Kate said. "You don't know anything, and I'm not going to tell you anything. These are not the tests you're looking for."

"You really think your Jedi mind tricks are going to work on me?" he asked, with a grin. "If it's not you, and I'm absolutely certain it's not my mother..."

"It's not Alexis, and just stop," Kate said. "Not my story to tell, not yours to investigate."

"But..." He sighed. "Fine. I know nothing. My lips are sealed. But..."

"I know. But right now you just need to turn around, go back out, and go do something that doesn't involve talking to anyone about anything you might possibly not have seen in that bathroom."

"That didn't even make sense," he complained.

"She's coming back in a few minutes, and I'd like to preserve her privacy and dignity for as long as possible."

"Still, it's kind of cool," he said.

"Shut. Up." Kate glared at him. "I don't even know if she thinks it's cool yet. And the last thing she needs is you hovering. Now git!"

"You sure you're okay?" he asked.

"I just moved too fast," Kate said. "I'll be fine. Just help me sit back down."

As he helped her settle more comfortably on the bed, she got a strange look on her face and said, "So what would you have done if that had been mine?"

He gave her a sharp look and said, "We haven't, and it's too soon, and I know you had... are you asking what I would have done if you'd been pregnant with Josh's baby?"

"I don't know," she said. "Just, the look on your face when you realized what was in there..."

"Any child of yours would be spectacular," he said. "Assuming you didn't go back to him, I'd have done what I always do, and done my best to support you 100%. And if you had, I would have sent a nice shower gift and probably cried a lot."

"You really like kids," she said.

"Not all of them, but most of them, yeah. Alexis..."

"You really have a special bond with her."

He smiled. "It started the day she was born. I mean, before that, I wasn't unhappy about the idea, but I was kind of clueless about it. And then Meredith ended up in the hospital with preeclampsia, and it got pretty scary. They ended up knocking her out and taking the baby by cesarean, and they just... handed her to me, this little beet red squalling bundle of indignity, with a shock of orange duck fuzz like you wouldn't believe. She was the wrinkliest, scrawniest, funniest-looking newborn, and they handed her to me about oh, two minutes after she was born, and a nurse took us aside and had me put her on my bare chest, and I was just gone. I talked to her, and she got so quiet, and her eyes got so big, and she just looked, and I think we stayed that way for hours." He looked down.

"Meredith was exhausted by the surgery, and in pain, and on drugs, and wouldn't even look at her at first. She made a half-hearted attempt to breastfeed, but we used donor milk while she was recovering, and when it became clear that Meredith wasn't going to do it, we continued with the donor milk. So I fed her, and it just... It's an amazing feeling, after being an utter screw-up, to have someone that small look up to you, and depend on you, and grow, and thrive, and go from a scrawny little slip of brick-red newness to a pink and ivory chubby little infant, and then they start crawling and exploring and talking... It's fascinating. And amazing. I still don't understand how Meredith could have turned her back on it. But that's... Yeah, we've got a great bond, and I don't think an accident of genetics would drive me away from you, or a child of yours. Though I'm very, very glad we don't have to find out."

"You'd be a much better dad than he would, anyway," Kate said. "Can you imagine? 'Sorry kid, I have to miss your graduation, they need me in Sri Lanka.'"

He winced. "Don't have to imagine it," he said.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," she said. "It's amazing, you know, how well you do for her, without having had that yourself."

"I was actually thinking more about Meredith's great disappearing acts. Although it's really better that way in the long run, given her personality, I know Alexis misses it. You've been there for her more in the past couple years than her mother was in her previous decade."

"That's kind of terrifying," Kate said. "Not being there for Alexis, but it's not like I've had to do it very often."

"Exactly," he said, with a bitter smile. "She adores you, I hope that's okay."

"It's an honor," Kate said. "But Lanie's going to be back any minute, and I want to be here for her."

He bent over and kissed her gently. "Whatever they need, you know I'm happy to help."

"Thank you," Kate said.

He walked out, and a moment later Lanie came in with a plastic Walgreen's bag. She upended it on the foot of the bed and said, "I couldn't figure out which one to get, so I got a couple."

"That's not a couple," Kate said, trying not to laugh. "Toss me a box, and I'll start looking at the instructions."

"They're supposed to be idiot-proof," Lanie said. "And neither of us are idiots."

"And thus, we will read the instructions," Kate said reasonably. Lanie shrugged and tossed her a box.

Kate pulled out a foil-wrapped test, and dug further down for the instructions. "If you really want to take eight tests," she said, "You're definitely not going to want to try to do it midstream."

"Which is why I kept the sample," Lanie said. "How long do I dip that one?"

"20 seconds." Kate said.

"This one's digital," Lanie said, holding one up.

"Save it for last," Kate said.

Lanie gave her a funny look.

"It's going to be the most unequivocal, right?" Kate said.

"So shouldn't I do that one first?" Lanie asked.

"You need time to get your mind around it."

"Right," Lanie said, setting the box aside and picking up another one. "This one is supposed to give earlier results."

"How early could you be?" Kate asked.

Lanie blinked, and then said, "We were so damn careful..."

"There had to be once..." Kate said. "Unless you're a condom failure statistic."

Lanie's eyes widened. "Oh shit. I know exactly when..."

"Do I want to know?" Kate asked.

"Let's just say I don't need the early results, because if it was then, well, anyway, I'm almost two weeks late as it is."

Kate paled. "Was it when Roy..."

"No, we were careful, then. That was possibly the saddest sex I've ever had in my life."

"You're not saying..."

"Might have happened, um..."

"Did you guys even leave the hospital that night?" Kate asked.

"Didn't have to," Lanie said, looking flustered.

"Supply closet or empty room?" Kate asked, trying not to laugh.

"I'm not telling," Lanie said. "But it was the only time... I was just so upset, and it just... and neither of us had... and I just at that moment did not give a hot damn."

"Hot being the operative word?" Kate said.

"Operative...not funny," Lanie said, chuckling anyway. "You were still in surgery, and no one was telling us anything."

"Do you know what you're going to do if you are?" Kate asked, opening another box. "Twenty for this one too."

"This one's only five seconds, I'll start with that," Lanie said. "You up to getting out of bed?"

"You get them set up and I'll be in shortly," Kate said. "Want to start with these three?"

"We'll do the digital if they're positive."

"Sounds like a plan, and you didn't answer my question," Kate said.

"I don't know. It's such bad timing..."

"What, when you don't have to be hovering over smelly dead bodies all day?" Kate asked.

"We're not even living under our own names, if you hadn't noticed," Lanie said. "And after those men at my apartment..." She blinked and then said, "Forget I said that."

Kate stared at her. "What men at your apartment?"

"The first time I went home after you were shot... Javier was with me, thank god, and we had a protective detail following us, so the men ran away, but they... tossed my place."

"Jesus, Lanie, and this is the first I'm hearing of it?" Kate said.

"You didn't need to know," Lanie said. "You've had more important things on your mind. Let's just say Rick's offer was not a hard sell."

"Did he know?" Kate asked.

Lanie shook her head. "We didn't tell him, he was hanging by a thread as it was. But he knew about Kevin's place, and basically opened up his wallet and said to Javier, 'Hire whoever you need to hire to protect our places,' and we put details on, well, everyone who lives in this house right now. Agent Shaw got involved the next day. She knew. That's why none of us brought much in the way of luggage. And why the idea of having a baby right now, when I'm not even sure where I'm going to be living when I go back to New York..."

"Was it that bad?" Kate asked.

"It's a violation, no matter how bad it is or isn't, and I haven't been back since," Lanie said. "Grabbed the absolute essentials, we went over everything with a fine toothed comb, and I just... They didn't get Javier's place, I stayed with him when I wasn't at the hospital."

"Kevin's place got tossed, too?" Kate asked.

"Yeah, worse than mine. Like they were looking for something. They tried to get into Castle's loft, too, but his security... he had enough sense to put his people on high alert as soon as he stopped having to make phone calls about you. But they tried, one of them took a bullet for the trouble. Winged a doorman before our guy got him."

"Christ," Kate said. "Is the doorman okay?"

"Yeah, just grazed. Not like taking out the doorman would have gotten them in. I think that's when Alexis stopped being able to sleep at the loft."

"You're safe here," Kate said.

"Can't stay here forever," Lanie said.

"You can stay until the baby is born, and then some, if you need to," Kate said. "I have it on good authority that I'm going to be here a while."

Lanie looked at the tests in her hand. "Guess I better get this over with."

Kate followed her into the bathroom a minute later.

"It says read them after three minutes," Lanie said, looking at her watch, and anywhere but the tests.

Kate peered at the tests. "Don't think you have to wait that long."

The tests were arranged neatly, and the one on top had two clear, dark pink lines. The next one had a blue plus. The third had two more pink lines.

"That's pretty dark," Lanie agreed.

Kate handed her the digital test, and watched while Lanie dunked it, waited, capped it, and lay it flat. A little hourglass blinked on the grey LCD screen for an unbelievably long time.

So long, in fact, that it took them a moment to realize that it had stopped blinking, and that only one word was visible on the screen. Pregnant.

"That's..."

"Pretty definitive," Lanie finished.

"Can't argue with it," Kate said.

Lanie reached out a shaking hand and picked up the test. "Think this is the one I should show him?"

Kate nodded. "You figured out what you want to do yet?"

"I need to see the look on his face when I tell him," Lanie said. "Maybe then I'll know." She stood, and dumped the contents of the cup in the toilet and then tossed it and the wrappers in the trash. "Should I throw the others out? Keep them?" she asked under her breath.

"Let 'em sit for a few minutes," Kate said. "Tell him. Then you can decide what you want to do with those."

"But what if Rick..." Lanie started, and then cocked her head. "He already knows, doesn't he."

"I didn't tell him," Kate said. "But we left the door open, and he saw..."

"He knew it wasn't yours." Lanie said.

"He knew," Kate agreed. "I swore him to secrecy, but he... He actually thought it was pretty cool, if you can believe it."

Lanie laughed in spite of herself. "That big lug? I can totally believe it. Someday, you better make that man a daddy again."

"Someday," Kate said, "I think I might want to. But not this year."

"Not this year."

Kate reached over and gave Lanie a hug. Lanie hugged her back gingerly. "It's going to be okay," Kate said. "We're here for you, no matter what Javier does."

"Thank you, sweetie," Lanie said. "I know you are. And it's adorable that you are talking about him as 'we'."

"I am, aren't I?" Kate said, grinning. "Still. I've got your back."

"Someones going to have to get my front if I go through with this," Lanie said, looking down. She frowned, and poked one of her breasts thoughtfully. "You know, I think they might be bigger already?"

"Javier will like that," Kate said wryly.

"We'll just see what the boy says," Lanie said, "Oh god. I have to tell him, don't I?"

"You really, really do," Kate said.

Lanie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then said, "Wish me luck?"

"Luck, sweetie," Kate said, giving her another squeeze around the shoulders. "Now go on. And give him a chance."

Lanie nodded, and then walked out of the room, almost marching.

Lanie knocked on the door of the third-floor room, and a moment later, Javier opened it. When he saw her there, he frowned. "I'm not supposed to..."

"I need to talk to you," she said. "I don't care about the room."

"Just a moment," he said, and disappeared. A minute later, he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"Our room?" she said.

"Something wrong?" he asked, following her down the stairs.

"Depends on how you define 'wrong'," Lanie said.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Again, definitions," Lanie said, waiting until he was in the bedroom to close the door behind them. The room was bright, with many windows, and far more furnished than it had been when they first moved in. "Sit down."

He sat down in the puffy recliner he'd asked for when they were decorating the room, and said, "Okay, you've got me worried. What's up?"

"How serious are you about us?" Lanie asked.

He blinked. "That's a strange question to ask someone who's currently pretending to be married to you."

"The operative word there is 'pretending'," Lanie said. "We never talk about it. I know I'm crazy about you. Everything you do says you're pretty attached to me too, but we never really talk about the future."

"I like what we have," he said. "I just didn't think we were there, yet."

"Yet?" she asked.

"But we could be," he said. "I won't pretend I haven't thought about it."

"You should maybe think about it a little more," Lanie said. "Remember the night after Kate was shot?"

He nodded, and then his eyes widened. "Are... did we... what are you trying to say?"

She handed the test to him.

He blinked. And swallowed. And then, to her surprise, he burst into silent tears.

Lanie frowned, cocked her head to one side, and said, "That bad?"

He looked up at her, looking perplexed, and just reached... the next thing she knew she was sitting on his lap, and he had his arms wrapped around her, one hand on her stomach, his nose buried against her shoulder.

"Javi..." she said. "Are you saying you want this?"

He held her tighter and was silent for a few minutes. She finally pushed back a little and said, "I need to know..."

"How could I not?" he said. "Our baby? Yours and mine? How could that be anything but... Of course I want it. Don't you?"

"I... the timing," she said. "Everything up in the air..."

"When I was born, both my parents were out of work and living with my grandparents," he said. "You and I are both gainfully employed, could get jobs pretty much anywhere, any time, and this situation is goddamned temporary. Do you want to have my baby, Lanie Parish? Because if you don't, it's going to break my goddamned heart."

"Quit swearing," she said, feeling her control beginning to crack. "Of course I want your baby. I love you, you big oaf."

At that, he leaned up and roughly kissed her cheek, and pulled her closer until she tucked her arm in next to him. "I'm sorry you had to even ask," he said, running his fingers down her neck. "I'm sorry I made you wonder."

"Quit apologizing," she said. "Just tell me it's going to be okay."

"It's going to be better than okay," he said. "And I... I love you too."

Private Therapy: Six

A Little Esplanation

The shift from the chair to the bed was hazy, but a few minutes after Lanie's announcement, she found herself naked on the bed, Javier's hands searching her body, as if he'd already be able to feel the changes in her. Her stomach was still flat. Her breasts maybe a little larger, a little softer. He hesitated, over her, and said, “It won't... hurt the baby if we...”

She laughed. “With the amount of sex we've been having, if that was going to cause a miscarriage, I wouldn't still be pregnant. It's fine.”

He started to reach for a condom, and then paused. She laughed. “Yeah, that would be a bit like locking the barn door...”

He entered her slowly, almost reverently, and she arched under him, the lack of barrier making every nerve more aware.

“Oh god,” she groaned. “That's...”

“Yeah,” he said through clenched teeth, as he started to move, achingly slowly.

“Faster,” she said. “You won't hurt...”

“Fuck,” he murmured, picking up the pace.

She laughed against his shoulder, and said, “That's the general idea...”

At that he did something with his hips and found a nipple with his fingers, and she was past talking.

After, she lay in his arms, remembering.

That afternoon and evening were like a series of snapshots. Finding Castle at the hospital giving orders and taking names while his mother washed her best friend's blood from his hand with a towelette. Realizing her own hands were still covered with Kate's blood, asking a nurse for scrubs and a place to clean up, Castle suggesting one of the rooms in the wing they'd be mostly taking over.

Standing at the sink, trying to get the blood off, crying until she couldn't see enough to know if her hands were clean, feeling his hands on hers, washing the blood she'd missed off her arms, pulling the bloody blouse and pants off, almost reverently cleaning the residue of blood off her chest with a damp towel.

Reaching for him... his tears mingling with hers as they blindly found their way together on an empty hospital bed, any thought of consequences fading away as he slid bare and hard into her slickness. Each whispering reassurances and prayers and their shared orgasm catching them both completely off guard with its power.

“I love you,” she said, lying there, imagining the unfurling possibility deep in her womb. “And I don't regret it.”

Kate still hadn't seen Lanie, two hours later, when the acupuncturist showed up. Rick joined them in the therapy room.

"Any news from..." his shrug in the general direction of the stairs finished his sentence.

She just shook her head.

The slim, blonde man who had introduced himself as Dr. Phillips laid a tray out next to the massage table near the front window, and said, "Now a large part of what we do involves quite a bit of waiting. I've gone over your history from Dr. Ellis, and she suggested we start with points that will help your liver and rib pain."

"I'm new to this," Kate said. "If it could help, I'm willing to try."

"Some people have excellent results from acupuncture. And pain is one of the things we're best at treating."

"I'm not sure I buy the whole 'chi' thing," Kate said.

"It might interest you to know that qi was generally mistranslated into English as energy," Dr. Phillips said. "And we're not exactly sure how or why acupuncture works, but when it works, it can do some amazing things."

"I always figured, if the placebo effect exists, sign me up," Rick said.

"It's a bit more than a placebo, but the body is capable of some amazing feats of healing. Our goal is to help it if we can. Now if there's something you have to keep yourself occupied during treatment..."

"I don't know, the recording you sent to the MRI was pretty helpful," Kate said to Rick. "When did you have time to record Harry Potter, anyway?"

"When Alexis was going off to camp, a long time ago," he said. "I found it on a hard drive Shaw's people made for me from my computer stuff at the apartment."

"Wouldn't mind hearing more of it," Kate said.

"I could read to you myself," he responded.

"I think we were on chapter four," Kate said.

"Be right back," he said, and scooted out of the room toward the foyer.

"Is this room private enough for you?" Dr. Phillips asked. "We'll need access to your abdomen, groin and leg areas for the treatment."

"We can draw the blinds. The household knows to avoid this room when the blinds on the foyer entry are drawn," Kate said. The doctor nodded, and moved around the room, pulling the blinds down until the room was quite dim.

Kate pointed to a portable lamp in the corner, and he smiled. "Perfect." The bright halogen bulb was mounted on a nearly omnidirectional pivot, on a long arm, and most of Kate's therapists had made use of it at one time or another. There was a stack of clean, plain white sheets on a shelf in the corner where the lamp was stored, and he brought one over.

"You keep this place well stocked," the doctor commented.

"Rick does," Kate said. "It's still tiring for me to leave the house, so he wanted us to be able to do most of my visits here. He's been pestering every professional who comes through to find out what they needed since we got here."

"Well, I think we're good for what I need. I can step out while you change out of your pants," he said. "Your top looks like it gives easy enough access..." Kate was wearing another of the kimono tops that had proven so practical for her recovery.

She nodded, and he went out the foyer double doors. Getting her pants down wasn't much of an issue anymore, but she knew she'd still need Rick to help her back into them. Everything was still so stiff...

She'd gotten the sheet wrapped around her when the doctor knocked on her door, and called, "Ready?"

"Yes," she answered, and was unsurprised when Rick followed the doctor in with her e-reader in his hands.

"How many copies of that book do we own between us?" she asked him.

"Four, now," he said. "Well, I'm assuming you only have one."

She winced, and said, "Five?"

"You bought the British version too?" he said, smiling.

"Which did you download?" she asked.

"Philosopher's Stone," he said. "The British accent makes more sense when you're talking about torches, instead of flashlights."

She grinned. "Good."

Dr. Phillips was opening several packets of disposable needles. "I'll need you to lie down for this, on your back, please. You're going to be here a while, so get as comfortable as you can."

Rick set the reader down and helped her settle on the massage table, rummaging under it to find a bolster for her knees without being asked.

"I'm going to be placing needles at several points from your ribs down to your feet," the doctor said. "The insertion shouldn't hurt, but you may find them... irritating as time passes. Try to stay as still as possible. That irritation is actually part of what makes this process helpful."

"I'm used to being irritated for the greater good," Kate said dryly, raising an eyebrow at Rick. "Aren't I, honey?"

He looked completely innocent and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, sweetheart."

"Just read me the damn book," she said, trying not to smile.

"Yes, dear," he said, and cued the reader to chapter four.

Upstairs, Lanie lay on her side on the bed, looking out the windows into the lush green of the treetops. Javier was spooned behind her, hand on her bare stomach.

"You gonna tell me why it hit you so hard?" Lanie finally asked.

She felt his breath on her bare shoulder, a quick exhale. She twisted in his arms, until they were lying almost nose-to-nose. "Tell," she said. "I'm listening."

The raw look on his face caught her off guard, and she put a gentle hand up to his cheek.

"It's not the first time someone handed me a positive pregnancy test," he said, quietly.

She kept her features still, and said, "What happened?"

"We were seventeen," he said. "I reacted...badly. Panicked. She stormed off, and by the time I calmed down enough to get my mind around it... she'd... gotten rid of it. I felt like it was my fault, you know? I couldn't look at her... I couldn't even look myself in the mirror. And I never told anyone. But when you... It felt like another chance. And I'm not sure I deserve it."

"You were seventeen. I'd have freaked at that age, too," Lanie said. "To be honest, I'm kind of freaked right now, but... I think we can do this. Especially if it's something you want."

"I graduated not long after that, went into the military rather than stay there a day longer than I had to. She lived in the neighborhood. It was part of why I went into special ops. Just felt like I had nothing to lose. But now... I won't say it's perfect timing, but... I'll take it."

"I can't go back there until this thing is sorted out," Lanie said. "Whoever's gunning for Kate... they're willing to mess with any of us. If it was just me, I'd risk it, but now?"

"I don't want you to," he said. "We'll figure something out."

"Kate suggested staying here."

"There're worse places to hole up," he said.

His pants started buzzing and rattling against the wood floor, and he rolled out of the bed, nude, to fish his cell out of his pocket.

He looked at the message. "I'm going to have to go, babe, and pick up Kev and Jenny."

"I'll come with you," she said.

"We gonna tell people?" he asked.

"Kate and Rick already know. Be almost impossible to hide it from the rest of them."

"You told Castle?" he said, sounding perturbed.

"Of course not, but Kate was there when I did the first test, and Rick saw them while I was out picking up more tests to confirm."

"How many tests did you take?" he asked, amused.

"Never you mind," she said, picking up her clothes and walking to the bathroom.

"Oh, I don't mind," he called after her as he pulled his clothes on. "Just curious."

Her voice came muffled through the bathroom door, "Go look at them if you're so damn curious, they're in Kate's bathroom downstairs."

"I thought I'd wait for you and walk you down," he said.

"I'm pregnant, not disabled," she snapped back. "I can walk down the damn stairs."

"Yes ma'am," he said, stepping into his shoes.

The acupuncturist was leaving as he came down the stairs. Rick turned as the front door closed, and eyed Esposito speculatively.

"I know you know, man," the detective said.

"So are congratulations in order?" Rick asked.

At that, Javier grinned in spite of himself. "Yeah, looks like."

"Lanie doing okay?" Rick asked.

"I've been informed that she's pregnant, not disabled, and yeah, I think we're going to do all right."

"Sounds like Lanie," Rick said. "You'll have a blast with a kid, you know."

"Lanie said the tests were in your bathroom?" Javier asked.

Rick nodded. "I'll go make sure Kate's okay with you going back there."

"Tell me he took it well," Kate said from her usual place on the bed, when Rick came in.

"Looked absurdly pleased with himself, actually," Rick said. "Lanie told him the tests were in our bathroom..."

"What, the word 'pregnant' wasn't enough for him?" Kate asked, amused. "He can come back. Give us a few minutes."

"Of course," Rick said. "But would you... um... go easy on the guy?"

"Hah," Kate shot back.

He shook his head, and walked back out to Javier, and said, "Go, if you dare."

"Beckett mad at me?" Javier asked.

"You know the big brother lecture you two gave me after she broke up with Josh?" Rick said.

Esposito winced. "Right." He squared his shoulders. "I suppose I've got it coming."

"Well, that had something to do with it, I'm sure," Rick said, and pretended to duck.

Javier rolled his eyes and walked back toward Kate's room.

"Go easy on me, boss," Javier said, as he walked into the back bedroom.

"She was terrified to tell you," Kate said.

"She didn't need to be," he answered.

"Good. You know the drill."

"If I hurt her, they'll never find my body," Javier said, almost singsong.

"Tests are on the edge of the tub."

He pushed open the bathroom door, and laughed. "She took six tests?"

"This is Lanie we're talking about," Kate said. "The one who checks and rechecks and then doublechecks. You should see how many I talked her out of taking."

He glanced back into the bedroom, and spotted the not-insignificant pile of unused tests still sitting on the dresser. "Right."

"So I take it you two are going to keep it?" Kate asked.

"It's not up to me, but I asked her to, yes," he answered, without turning around. "And she said she would."

"You'll be a good dad," Kate said, more gently.

"I hope so," he said. "I'm sure going to try."

"I... I hope you guys feel comfortable staying, at least until Shaw catches the bastard behind this mess," Kate said.

"We'll be staying as long as we need to in order to keep Lanie and the baby safe," Javier said, turning.

"She told me about her apartment," Kate said.

"Yeah, that was..." He shook his head. "But we've already made progress," he said. "That tech Shaw left for us, Renny, she's an odd duck, but friggin' awesome on the computer. She's laying traps within traps. You know she's even got tell-tales on the guys on our detail outside? If their heart rates go up, she knows. If they get dangerously low or stop, she's got this place wired to slam into a secure mode..."

"If they know we're here," Kate said, "We can't stop them from getting in. Our best defense here is them not knowing we're here."

"No, but the lights come on, the sirens go off, and whoever is out there messing with our guys has about 90 seconds before the wrath of everloving shit comes down on them. But that's not the really cool part..."

"Please tell me you're not talking shop with Kate," Lanie said from the doorway.

"It's okay," Kate said. "It's actually a relief to know a little bit about what they're doing. I want to hear more, later."

"If your gatekeepers let me," Javier said.

"You ready to go?" Lanie asked.

Kate looked curious, and Javier supplied, "We're going to get the newlyweds. I guess the hotel finally booted them."

"It's a Friday afternoon in June, they've probably had the weekend booked for a year," Kate said. "Be nice to have the gang back together."

"Now you just have to get well enough to climb those stairs," Javier said.

"Working on it," Kate said.

Rick was settling down in his study to write when Alexis stuck her head in. He smiled, and said, "Come on in, sweetheart."

"Hey," she said. "You know, I've been thinking..."

"Dangerous, that," he said, with a smile. "What have you been thinking?"

"I'm not sure you'll like it," she said.

"If it doesn't involve you getting your nose pierced and riding off on the back of a Harley with some guy named Biff, I'll try to keep an open mind," Rick answered.

"Very funny," she said. "How did you guess Ash's new nickname?"

"Ha," he retorted.

"Seriously Dad, though. It's kind of weird, being here with nothing to do," she said. "I'm usually so busy..."

"If you need something, I'll order it," he said. "And you've been here, what, forty-eight hours? You can't be bored yet."

"I don't think that would work," she answered. "I think I want to find a job. For the summer."

He blinked.

"Normally I would think that was a good idea... but you're not utterly unknown, and it's a risk for any of us being seen in public right now. If the paparazzi..."

"That's why I'm thinking about maybe cutting my hair," she said. "Or dyeing it. Or both."

His face went blank. "You love your hair. I love your hair. The last time we cut three inches off, you cried for a week. And you know what happened when you were 11 and tried that so-called temporary black dye for Halloween..."

"But that's the point," she said. "I've had the same hair, well, except for the incident-which-shall-not-be-mentioned-again, since I was like three. What better way to avoid the paps and bad guys? And I can donate what we cut off to Locks of Love..."

"The biggest risk is the fans," he said. "It's always the fans who find us first."

"Even so," she said. "New name, maybe it's time to have new hair? Something that doesn't take me half an hour to curl?"

"Have you talked to anyone else about this?" he asked. "Your grandmother, perhaps?"

"You know she'll just tell me to go for it," Alexis said. "But I talked to Ash, and he said he'd support whatever I chose."

"I feel underqualified," Rick said. "I think you should talk to Kate, and maybe Lanie."

"You know I'm going to do what I'm going to do," Alexis said.

"Still, humor me," Rick said, frowning.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. So you don't have a problem with me getting a job if I change my hair?"

He gaped for a moment. "I don't... No, I think it would be good for you. Go ahead, get a job, if you think you can change your appearance enough to stay safe."

She grinned. "Thanks, Dad."

As she bounced out of the room, he called after her, "But maybe a wig?"

It was a little surreal for Lanie to watch Javier driving a minivan. "You look so domes..."

"Don't even say it," he said. "I'm happy we're having a kid together, but this is not my dream ride."

She suppressed a laugh. "It's comfortable, anyway."

"You cannot tell me you want one of these," he said.

"Don't need it in the city, and we've got this one here," she said. "I'm good. It's just cute, that's all."

He shuddered, and turned into the pickup zone for the hotel. Jenny and Kevin appeared a moment later, and he thumbed the controls to open the sliding side doors.

Javier stared at the couple for a long moment. "You two look relaxed, man," he finally said to Kevin, once the man had tucked their bags between the two bucket seats.

Kevin smiled widely, looked at his wife, and then sighed happily. "You have no idea."

"How are you two doing?" Jenny asked, as the doors slid shut. "We never really had a chance to catch up on Wednesday."

Lanie coughed, and raised an eyebrow at Javier.

He pulled the car out onto the street, and said, "We're good."

There was something in his tone that caught Kevin's attention immediately. "Good... but something's up."

"Could be," Javier said.

"Is it Kate? Is she okay?" Jenny asked.

"News on the case?" Kevin said almost at the same moment.

Javier's hand slid out and caught Lanie's, and squeezed it.

"Oh my god, are you two getting married?" Jenny asked.

"We haven't talked about that, yet," Javier said, stressing the last word.

Lanie looked at him sharply. "No, we haven't."

"Then what..." Kevin asked, sounding confused.

"You want to tell them, or should I?" Javier asked Lanie.

Jenny clapped her hand over her mouth. "Is it what I think it is?" she finally managed to ask.

"Depends on what you're thinking it is," Lanie said. "If you're thinking we've been abducted by aliens, then no. But if you're guessing that I'm pregnant, that would be a definite yes."

"Holy shit," Kevin said. "I totally did not see that coming."

"It's usually a private thing, dude," Javier quipped back, without missing a beat.

"You know what I mean," Kevin said, irritated. "But still, wow, that's... that's huge."

"Not yet, it isn't," Lanie said. "Give me about six months though..."

"Sorry man, you keep leaving yourself open for them," Javier said.

"Ha ha," Kevin said dryly.

"That's just amazing," Jenny said. "Are you excited?"

Lanie looked at Javier, and said, quietly, "I think I'm starting to be, yeah."

Jenny smiled. "Well, then, congratulations. I'm so happy for you two. How far along are you?"

"Must be... Almost six weeks, but that's just because they always tack a couple weeks on to make it easier to figure out due dates," Lanie said.

"So you must be due..." Jenny started.

"February, I think," Lanie said. "Somewhere in the middle."

"You still planning on going back in July?" Kevin asked.

"No," Javier said. "When the case is done, no sooner. But we need you, don't worry. There's plenty of work to be done."

"Hard nut to crack?" Kevin asked.

"You have no idea," Javier said. "Needs your fine touch."

"Aw, I'm honored. You missed me," Kevin said.

"Actually?" Javier said, "I have. Working this thing without you and Beckett and Castle... We've got a good tech mouse working for us, and fantastic access to data, but it's like trying to play all the bases by myself."

"So does anyone have any ideas about what I could do to help?" Jenny asked. "It feels kind of odd to be going to live in someone else's house for months without knowing what I'm supposed to be doing."

"Can you cook?" Lanie asked.

"She's an amazing cook," Kevin said.

"I enjoy it," Jenny agreed.

"We've got a chef coming in for now, to figure out how to keep Kate's diet varied but with consistent amounts of vitamin K, and if you're willing to learn, that would be one area," Lanie said. "But the main purpose of us being here is to keep us all safe."

"I like to make myself useful," Jenny said. "Usually on summer vacation I'm doing camp counselling or taking continuing ed classes. It's just strange to have months stretching out ahead of us without anything planned."

"I'm taking up knitting," Lanie said, and Javier spluttered. "What?" she asked, looking at him. "It's good practice to keep my fine motor skills up, and if I can ever get the damn pattern to come out right, I'll have something useful at the end of it. It's not like you've got bodies dropping for me to puzzle out."

"Oh, I haven't had time to knit in years," Jenny said.

"I have," Kevin said, and then frowned. "Did I say that out loud?"

Jenny grinned at him. "I love you, sweetie."

"I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that," Javier said, frowning. "You've all lost your marbles."

"What?" Kevin asked. "My neck was cold. I wanted a scarf."

"And you couldn't just... oh nevermind." Javier pulled the van into the garage, which closed smoothly behind it.

"Still," Jenny said. "It could be fun, knitting things for the baby. Baby stuff knits up so fast."

"When did you knit for a baby?" Kevin asked.

"How many sisters-in-law do I have? And cousins?"

"Right," he said.

As they walked up the path to the house, Lanie said to Kevin, "You could join us, you know. Might be fun."

"I think it would upset Javi too much," Kevin said, eyeing his friend.

"Oh don't mind me," Javier said, "If you want to take up knitting and join the ladies' sewing circle, don't let me stop you."

"You do know that there's a fire station in the city that's famous for their elaborate knitting projects," Lanie said. "If those big, burly firefighters can do it without it depriving them of their man-cred, I'm sure Ryan's testosterone levels will be just fine."

"Don't knock it until you try it, man." Kevin said. "It's relaxing."

"That's not the word I'd use," Lanie said. "Frustrating and challenging, yes. Relaxing..."

"I make scarves," Kevin said. "They're pretty simple. And I use a machine."

"Isn't that sort of defeating the purpose?" Lanie asked.

"Of making my neck warm?" Kevin said. "Works pretty well."

"Let me guess," Javier said, pushing the front door open. "You ordered some gadget off of late night television after the Vong case."

"I plead the fifth," Kevin said, and held the door for Jenny and Lanie.

A while after Lanie and Esposito had gone, Alexis peeked through the open door of the bedroom, and said softly, "Kate? You awake?"

Kate set her tablet down and said, "Come on in." She was reclined on top of the covers, the head and knee of the bed elevated.

"Do you have a few minutes?" Alexis asked.

"I've got all the time in the world," Kate said dryly. "Have a seat."

Alexis sat on the raised knee of the bed, facing Kate, and said, "Dad says I should talk to you before cutting my hair off."

"Did he say why?" Kate asked.

"I think he wants you to talk me out of it," Alexis said.

"And what do you want?"

"I want to be able to leave the house without putting people in danger, and I want to do something different." Alexis played with the end of one of her curls absentmindedly.

"You'll miss long hair," Kate said. "But short is a lot easier."

"I should dye it too," Alexis said.

Kate looked at her thoughtfully, "Red hair doesn't always dye well."

"That's what he said. Well, to be more exact, he reminded me of the time I used an entire bottle of temporary black dye and looked like someone had given me my own person green raincloud for the next three months. Which was really fun around Christmas, with the green and the red roots... But I thought, maybe if I cut my hair I can give the part I cut off to Locks of Love..."

Kate was shaking her head. "Do a little research on Locks of Love before you go cutting off your hair..."

"They make wigs for kids with cancer, right?" Alexis said.

"If you want to get wigs for kids with cancer," Kate said, "ask your dad to donate directly to a cancer organization or to specific children in need. But there's only a one-in-a-thousand chance that if you donate to Locks of Love, that that's where your hair will end up."

"My illusions are shattered," Alexis said. "But that doesn't change the fact that if I want to leave the house, I need to not look so much like Richard Castle's redheaded daughter. I've had too many paparazzi shots of me as it is, and his fans are relentless. Dad suggested a wig, but I've got so much hair..."

"We talkin' hair now?" Lanie said from the door of the bedroom. "Kev and Jenny are back, by the way."

Kate grinned. "And here's the queen of hair herself. Alexis is thinking about a cut-and-dye."

"Kate talked me out of Locks of Love," Alexis added. "But I've got too much hair not to cut it..."

"Your dad is loaded. If you want, have the hair you cut off made into extensions. Then you can go back to long-and-red when you feel like it, have short-and-red be your default around the house, and put on a wig when you go out," Lanie said.

Alexis grinned. "So how short should I go?"

Kate looked at her thoughtfully. "Carey Mulligan. Not Emma Watson."

Lanie pulled the tablet computer from the bedside table, brought up a website, said, "Smile!" and snapped a picture of a rather bemused-looking Alexis.

A few minutes later, she turned the tablet around and said, "Like so."

Kate and Alexis stared. "That's cute," Kate said. "I bet it would be incredibly flattering."

"And here's the Emma Watson."

"Yeah, too short," Alexis agreed.

"I wouldn't mind having a wig myself," Kate said. "It would be nice to get out of the house for a little while."

"What color?" Alexis asked.

"Blonde," Lanie and Kate said together.

"Is there a story in that?" Alexis asked, looking between the two of them.

"Let's just say I want to see the look on your dad's face when Kate walks into a room with long blonde hair," Lanie said.

"I happen to know that he likes her hair the way it is," Alexis said. "He's actually not all that fixated on color."

"Still," Lanie said, trying not to laugh. "I've seen Kate as a platinum blonde. It's... striking."

"Like, especially when I talk like this, you know?" Kate said, putting on her best Valley accent.

Alexis giggled. "If you're going to do that, we need to get some retro clothes. Dad was a teenager in the 80's... You'll short circuit his brain completely."

"Most of what I remember of the 80's involved sixth graders at the talent show doing completely inappropriate Bangles songs and Debbie Gibson impressions," Kate said.

"Dad says that when he was in school, all the kids danced to Michael Jackson songs," Alexis said. "Thriller."

Kate blinked. "That might explain a lot about your father, actually."

"I always thought so," Alexis said. "So cut and wig, but I'll be able to go long again with my own hair... I think he might go for that. And a blonde wig for Kate... Do hairdressers make house calls?"

"I'm beginning to think that when you throw enough money around," Kate said, "anyone will make house calls."

"I'll see what I can arrange," Lanie said. "We could do a spa day of it, we've certainly got the amenities here."

Kate grinned. "It might be nice to be pampered without the torture component. And don't tell Castle I said that. By the way, Lanie, how are you doing?"

"I'm good," Lanie said. "It's not like it's a huge thing right now."

"Yet," Kate amended.

Alexis looked confused. "Did I miss something?"

Lanie sighed. "I'm pregnant," she said, matter of fact.

"Oh my gosh, congratulations!" Alexis leaned over and gave her a hug, then drew back in confusion. "It is congratulations, right?"

Lanie laughed. "Yes, it is."

"Wow, Javier a dad..." Alexis blinked. "Did he flip?"

"In a good way," Lanie said.

"Can I tell Gram?" Alexis asked. "She'll be thrilled for you. Does Dad know?"

Lanie gave a slightly overwhelmed chuckle. "Go ahead, it will save me making an announcement at the dinner table. And your dad knows."

"Wow," Alexis said. "Just... wow."

"It's only the size of a seed right now," Lanie said. "It's going to be a while before it's, you know, big."

"It's huge," Alexis said. "Even if it's small."

Kate woke from her afternoon nap an hour before dinner, to an empty room. Getting up was easy, and she made her way to the bathroom. It wasn't until she'd stood up again that she realized that the ever-present 'catch' hadn't happened when she pulled her pants back up. She blinked, and stretched experimentally. There was still a pull... but it wasn't as sharp as it had been, and it didn't show up until she raised her arm to level. She'd been keeping her elbows at her sides reflexively for weeks. This... this was new. Experimentally she bent over, cautious, and blinked when she was able to touch her knees without pain. She stood, and grinned. How much of the pain had been real warning signals? How much had just been her body's weary habit?

She brought her arms up carefully, and was delighted when she was able to actually keep them steady enough to pull her hair back. If she wasn't holding them out from her body, her range of motion was almost fully functional. She closed her eyes and leaned forward on the sink, feeling some deep-knotted anxiety flee.

She glanced at the tub and realized that Lanie must have finally cleared out her tests, as the clutter was gone.

She walked back out to the bedroom, and looked thoughtfully into her closet. Feeling almost human again, she reached carefully for a button-down shirt, then went over to the drawers and smiled when she found a pair of actual jeans. Getting into the button-down shirt only cost one small twinge, the jeans were fine, if baggier than she was used to. Barefoot, she walked out of the bedroom to find Rick.

He was typing in his study, in one of the leather chairs in front of the book case, a frown knitting his brow. She padded quietly over behind him, and leaning forward a little, ran her hands down his shoulders to get his attention.

He jumped a little, then looked up at her. "Kate... but..."

She grinned, a wide, happy smile.

"You changed your clothes," he said. "Did Lanie help?"

"Nope," she said, reaching forward and plucking the laptop out of his hands to set it on the side table.

"You bent over," he said. "And you're still smiling."

She walked around the chair, still grinning, and sat herself down on his lap.

"Did you take something?" he asked.

She shook her head, and wrapped her left arm around his shoulders, playing idly with the hair over his ear.

"That must have been some nap," he managed to say after a moment.

"I feel better," she said. "Not perfect, but I was able to pull my pants on without killing myself."

"Think the acupuncture helped?" he asked.

"Something helped," she said. "Not quite ready to tango, but I might be able to manage a waltz."

He grinned. "Don't take it too fast, ninja-girl."

She leaned against him, stretching like a cat, and said, "Oh, I won't, but it's nice to know that progress is being made. Oh, by the way, we've decided we want a spa day, here."

"Ah, now the truth comes out," he said. "Whatever you need. Wait... does this have anything to do with Alexis wanting to get a job?"

"She just asked about a hair cut," Kate said.

"What did you tell her?" Rick said, suddenly more serious.

"I think it's a good idea, but Lanie had the brilliant idea that she could have the hair they cut off made into removable extensions."

"No Locks of Love?" he asked.

"Have you checked their financials?" she asked. "I did, after my last long-to-short."

"Was that right before our first case?" he asked.

She glanced at him, and then said, "Yeah."

"How long had you grown it before that?" he asked.

She grinned. "Longer than it is now, by a lot."

"Short hair was cute on you," he said. "I like it long, too."

"Think I should cut it again?" she asked.

"There's no right answer to that question," he said, almost chiding her.

She laughed, and leaned her head against his. "Smart, smart man."

"That's what you love about me," he said, dropping a quick kiss in the general direction of her nose.

"When did you know?" she asked, thinking about that first case.

He didn't ask what she meant, just got a quietly thoughtful look on his face, and then said, "That's a complicated question."

"It's a simple question," she said.

"Okay, but it's a complicated answer. When did I know I wanted you? The first time you flashed your badge at me. When did I know I'd go the extra mile to get close to you? Right around the time you turned me down flat and then breathed in my ear. When did I realize I was completely infatuated with you? Second, maybe third case. When did I realize I was actually in love with you?" He paused.

"I'm listening," she said.

"Around the time I invited you to the Hamptons," he said. "But I'd have to put the moment I knew I wanted forever with you..."

"The dirty bomb," she said quietly.

"Yeah. The way you were looking at me, as that timer ticked down... I pulled the wires as much because I wanted to make sure you could keep looking at me that way, as anything. Though I had a pretty good idea I wasn't going to be chasing any other relationships after that first kiss."

She chuckled. "Did I spoil you for other women?"

"Constantly," he said. Then he looked at her thoughtfully. "What about you?"

He watched at least six different emotions pass over her face in a brief second, almost fear at first, then something guarded, then a conscious dropping of that guard, a soft look of remembering, a slight squaring of her mental shoulders, and finally a little bit of mischief.

"That complicated?" he said, amused.

"Even more than you know," she said. "I think I fell in love with you first in 1999."

That managed to startle him, then he did the math, and his hand came up to stroke her hair. "Our first meeting must have been a terrible disappointment," he said.

"Actually, our first meeting wasn't a disappointment, it was exactly what I expected," she said with an impish smile.

"You expected me to be cocky and arrogant and get in the way?" he asked.

"Nope," she said. "I just expected you to sign my book. And you did. And you were nice about it."

He blinked, perplexed, and then said, "You came to a signing. And I didn't even notice."

"I looked different," she said. "It was before I'd actually joined the force."

"Still," he said. "I would have thought..."

"But I didn't finish," she said. "That was more of an intellectual crush, than anything. Reading your books, I loved the way your mind worked. Meeting you the second time... I didn't want to come across as some drooling fangirl, and I loathed the idea of being another notch on anyone's belt. Then you pissed me off, and turned me on, and woke me up."

"When did you realize you had feelings for me?" he asked.

"I didn't admit it to myself until around the time you asked me to the Hamptons," she said. "I mean, I knew there was something, before, but I wasn't... open to it."

He cocked his head at her, and said, "But you turned me down."

"I was about to tell you I'd changed my mind when Gina showed up," she said.

"Jesus," he breathed, and shook his head. "When I think about the wasted time..."

"You took me at my word, and found another option," she said. "The fact that you respect those particular boundaries and take me at my word is one of your better qualities, and one of the more maddening."

"I'm not sure I want to know how many other opportunities I missed," he said.

"LA."

"You left. You ran away from me," he said.

"I came back," she said. "You'd gone already."

He closed his eyes, and said, "I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

It took only a slight tilt of her head to bring her lips to his ear. "Why don't you just kiss me instead?"

He chuckled. "I like the way you think," he said.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

With another chuckle, he turned his head and found her lips.

A minute later, he pulled back, and a puzzled look moved across his face. "I still don't get why you didn't tell me, sooner."

She looked away, and said, "I'd broken up with one man for you, and I'd decided I wasn't going to do that again until you made the first move."

"But I wasn't willing to make the first move while you were with someone else..." he said quietly.

"In retrospect, not necessarily my best choice," she said. "I just... it hurt, even if I understood it, when you went away that summer."

"We figured it out eventually."

"I'm sorry it took a bullet," she said.

"You're getting better," he said quietly.

She let herself lean in against him, sliding down a little to tuck her head against his shoulder. "I am. You know, you didn't ask something."

"I didn't ask a lot of things. What did you have in mind?" he said.

"When I knew I wanted forever," she said.

"I didn't know if you'd come to that conclusion yet," he said.

"I have. I did."

He was quiet for a long moment, and then said, "Do I get to know when?"

"Between the hangar and the funeral," she said. "I was working on the eulogy... and there was this moment when it became so clear. I was going to tell you, when things calmed down."

"And they never did."

"If this isn't calm, I don't know what is," she said, almost laughing. "But yeah, there wasn't really time before the funeral to have a meaningful talk. And after I was shot, the things that were standing between us... just didn't seem so relevant."

"This is the calm before the storm," he said. "They're making progress every day."

"I want to move to the second floor," she said. "Take the stairs more often."

"We'll keep the downstairs bedroom set up for you for now," he said. "But if you can get to the second floor, I'm happy to join you there."

"That's fair." She closed her eyes, feeling his hand in her hair. "I don't think I knew how worried I was that my health wouldn't come back," she said. "But now I know it will. It's such a relief."

"I love you, Kate Beckett." She could feel his breath on her head as he spoke.

She smiled, eyes still closed. "I love you too, Rick Castle."

She could feel a corner of his mouth turn up as he smiled into her hair.

By the time the household sat down for dinner, the news about Lanie's pregnancy had clearly made the rounds. Kate broke with tradition and eschewed her recliner at the head of the table to sit next to Rick in a regular chair.

The table buzzed with energy. The return of Kevin and Jenny, Lanie's news, Kate's progress, all of it contributed to a sense of renewed optimism in the half dozen conversations floating among the ten people at the table.

Alexis put a finger on it when she suddenly exclaimed, "It doesn't feel like we're just waiting for something to happen now."

The other conversations stilled. "Oh, I'd say things are definitely happening," Lanie said, looking down pointedly.

"Still going to be some waiting for that one, darling," Martha said. "Pregnancy is all about waiting."

"But we're not just waiting," Alexis explained. "I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow, Kate's feeling better." She looked at Kate then, and said, "You are feeling better, right? You're not just sitting in a regular chair for show?"

"Less pain," Kate agreed. "But it's too soon to say how much better. I'm going to see if I can climb to the second floor tonight. Last time Rick half carried me."

"Eager to get to the third floor?" Martha asked. "They won't let me up there either."

"The less you know about some things," Rick said, "the better."

"I know you say that, but when it comes down to it, every single one of us has been affected by this thing and we don't all know why," Martha said. "I get that it has to do with Kate's mother's murder, and that it wasn't solved, but I don't get why they're suddenly going after all of us. I'm guessing they were looking for something, but why us?"

Ryan and Esposito looked at Kate, who caught their eyes and then looked down at her plate. She looked over at Rick, whose look said so clearly, 'Your call.'

She pushed the steamed vegetables on her plate around, and then said, "I'd like to know too."

Rick leaned close and whispered in her ear, "If I explain it to them, they'll have to know about Roy."

She frowned. "Keep it as...neutral as you can," she said quietly.

Rick nodded, and then said, "Roy was killed in a shootout with a man who was working on cleaning up loose ends related to Kate's mom's murder. While Kate was in the hospital, I received a package that constituted a major loose end. Whoever hired Lockwood knew that a loose end had been sent to one of us, but they didn't know who. That package points us in the direction of the killer, but doesn't provide enough evidence to put him away for good. That's what the boys are working on right now, and what our mouse upstairs is working on, and why we needed to get all of us out of the line of fire. They still don't know who has it, they don't know what we're going to do with it, and we want to keep it that way until we're in a position to take them down."

"I thought it was a him?" Jim said.

Esposito said, "We believe that the mastermind is a single man. But it's become clear that he's working with a dedicated bunch of highly trained mercenaries. From everything we've seen, most of the active players we've met have been ex-special ops. And given the kind of hell they've gone through for their employer, surprisingly loyal for mercenaries."

Ashley, usually quiet at dinner, spoke up, and said, "I know they tried to corner me, but they didn't hit my house. I know they tried to hit the Castles' loft, but didn't succeed. Who else did they go after?"

"They hit my apartment, and Kevin's," Lanie said.

"We had security at my place and they said they scared people off, but there wasn't any damage," Jenny said.

"They weren't trying very hard at Jenny's," Kevin said.

"Did they even try to hit Javier's apartment?" Alexis asked.

Esposito narrowed his eyes, and said, "Not that we know of. But my place... there are always people around, nosy neighbors, it would be hard for someone to sneak in there."

"But did they even try?" Alexis pressed.

"Not that I... No, I don't think so."

"Whatcha thinking, Alexis?" Rick asked.

"It just seems odd, that's all." Alexis said. "Why not you? Why all the rest of them? And with you they didn't even try?"

Kevin blinked. "He said something... when he had us... that he had so much respect for us. And they never really tried to hurt you."

Kate and Rick looked at each other, and said, "Special ops."

"It would explain why they have no history," Kate said.

"And if they were part of the same unit at some point, it might explain the loyalty," Castle said.

"So you're saying they left me alone because I was one of them?" Esposito said, looking perturbed.

"Because they saw you as one of them," Kate said. "You were the last one they wanted to hurt. I don't doubt they would have, if it had come to it, but it was not their first choice. Given the violence of the various attacks, I think they guessed, probably correctly, that the information had been sent to Rick."

"Why him?" Jenny asked. "Why not a cop?"

"Because I have the resources to act on it, and these guys, if they are who and what we are guessing they are... no cop could fight them alone."

"If the Dragon is who we think he is, Castle," Esposito said, "your money wouldn't even be enough to fight him alone."

"How big is this guy?" Martha asked, incredulous.

"So Castle has tens of millions, right?" Esposito said, and then continued without waiting for an answer. "This guy has an estimated net worth of 2.7 billion dollars. And his entire business is built around guns and intelligence gathering. The legitimate part of it, anyway. Which is why we're hiding out in this well-appointed rabbit hole in California rather than trying to conduct business anywhere on the East Coast. The big question right now is whether we'll be able to put the pieces together to arrest him before he figures out where we are."

"And if he does?" Martha said, alarmed.

"If he does, we have a contingency plan," Rick said, reaching across the table to put a hand on his mother's arm.

"Don't you think we should know about the contingency plan?" Alexis asked. "Like, where to go, what to do. Oh, I don't know, maybe how to fire a gun?"

"If the shit hits the fan hard enough that you have to pick up a gun," Esposito said, "we're screwed. And that's not saying that you wouldn't be a good shot with some training, but that if any of us actually has to point a weapon, we're probably going to already be outgunned, at least in the first 90 seconds."

"What happens at 90 seconds?" Kate asked.

"That's when a local task force would land on their heads," Rick said. "They're based a block away, and are part of the detail that monitors the exterior of the house."

"The house is wired," Esposito said, "so that in the event of an incursion, certain things happen. The blinds slam shut, for one, to reduce their ability to target. There are thermal decoys underlying some of the paint in some rooms. They're wired to come on, and heat to body temperature within about 20 seconds, if the red button is pressed."

"She took Dunn's example to heart," Kate commented to Rick.

"That was my suggestion," he said.

"Your safest bet is to move to the interior of the house. The upstairs hallways. The bathrooms. The places with the least visibility from the outside. A closet. But the safest single room in the house is on the third floor, and you really shouldn't go in there unless all hell is breaking loose," Esposito said. "Kevin and Jenny's room is good, but the war room is best. The windows up there are all quite high and not accessible from the ground."

"What constitutes all hell breaking loose?" Ashley asked.

"Alarms, flashing lights. Fire alarms are high pitched and loud, These are sirens. The outside of the house would be lit by floodlights. You'll know it when you see it. If you're in your bedroom, just stay there," Esposito said.

"What would trip that?" Alexis asked.

"We've got the exterior of the house tracked by heat-sensitive cameras on closed-circuit to the top floor. It's not the kind of tech that sees through walls, they're not aimed at the walls, they're aimed at the surrounding area. Something shows up on there, our detail looks at it with both infrared and normal vision, or night vision if necessary, to pinpoint whether it's suspicious activity, or just us. All our delivery goes through the guys outside, so they know anyone coming up to the door who isn't one of us or one of them requires further investigation. The guys outside can trip the warning system manually, or if something happens to them, we've got telltales that will trip it automatically."

"So if a guy out there has a heart attack, it could trigger a full lockdown?" Alexis asked.

"Heart irregularities would trigger someone checking on the detail," Esposito said. "There aren't a lot of things that are going to make a healthy guy's heart just stop while sitting in a car. Most of the things that could happen would trigger some sort of earlier warning that we'd have someone investigate."

"This sounds..." Martha said, and then stopped.

"Expensive," Kate finished.

"I'm halfway through the fourth novel," Rick said. "I finish it ahead of schedule, and they're prepared to offer me a fifteen million dollar advance for three more novels after that, if sales hold."

"How much has this already cost?" Kate asked.

"About nine million at this point, but six of that is real estate that isn't going away, and another half million is in equipment," he said. "And that's still not close to burning up the earnings and advances for the first four books and the movie. Let alone what was already in the bank from Derrick."

She blinked at him. "You knew I was loaded," he said.

"Those numbers don't even compute," she said.

"Wait, I thought you spent about four on real estate?" Lanie said.

"I kind of didn't mention the other property in the neighborhood," he said, with a small shrug. "It wasn't important."

"What are you even going to do with these places, once this is all over?" Jenny asked.

"I actually had an idea," Alexis said.

"I was going to let her use it when she went to school," Rick said.

"I have a better idea," Alexis reiterated.

"Oh?"

"I think you should let me and Ash run it as a bed and breakfast. We can hire other students to help us as needed, it would generate income, and it would probably stay a lot nicer than if it turns into student housing. It would be busiest on breaks and weekends anyway, and we can live upstairs."

"Remembering my dorm rooms," Kate said, "she has a point."

He cocked his head, and then smiled. "My brilliant daughter, if you want to try it, I'm game."

"I'm thinking about trying to get a job at another bed and breakfast first, to see how it works," she said. "Get some experience."

"If anyone can do it, you can," Martha said, laughing.

"That's assuming we catch this man," Jim said.

"We'll catch him." Castle, Esposito and Ryan spoke in unison.

Esposito continued. "We are making progress. I don't want to make promises about timelines, but it could be a couple weeks, or a couple months. But it shouldn't be longer."

"If it's much longer than that, the name changes are going to need to become permanent," Lanie said. "Or close to it. And we'll need to do WITSEC for real. Find new lives."

"The minute this asshole decided to toss your apartment and go after Kev and Alexis," Javier said to her, "he lost any chance he had of escaping us."

"And with Shaw on the case," Kate said, "I feel like there's finally a chance someone other than me can get this collar."

"You okay with that?" Lanie asked.

"I would be too tempted to put a bullet through his brain," Kate said. "Much as I might want personal vengeance, it's better for everyone if I don't..."

Rick looked at her, and smiled. "Personally, I prefer you alive and out of prison."

"So this guy has a private army?" Ryan asked.

"Basically," Esposito said. "It's what he does."

"How do we even..." Ryan blinked.

"That's why we're not just walking in there and arresting him," Esposito said. "Gonna have to plan this tighter than the raid on the Abbottabad compound. And it won't be us, it will be Shaw's people."

"No one is above the law," Rick said tightly. "They just think they are."

"They got Madoff, they can get this guy," Martha said.

"How many things have you talked your way out of using your friends, Castle?" Ryan asked.

"I talked my way out of piddly crap," Rick said. "I couldn't have done it with murder. We got Dame Wellesley."

"Sort of," Esposito said. "It would have been better if she wasn't clearly bonkers."

"Still," Rick said. "We get enough evidence, we can take him down."

"Do we get to know who he is?" Alexis asked.

"No," Esposito said. "Castle and Beckett don't even know at this point, though I'm sure they'll guess soon. Don't even say it if you figure it out."

"He's not Voldemort, for God's sake," Alexis shot back, exasperated.

"No, but you start doing web searches or whatever, you call attention," Esposito said. "We've got the resources for that upstairs, but the house wireless is only so secure, and you step into the wrong honeypot online, there's no telling what's going to follow you home. This guy is connected. Just don't. Leave it to us. I'm serious. You too, Castle," he said, glaring at Rick, whose eyebrows shot up.

"This food is delicious," Martha said. "I think I like your new chef."

"Subtle, Mother," Rick said.

"What? We're not supposed to talk about it or be curious, so I'm changing the topic. And the food is excellent. Will she be coming back?"

"For the next week," Lanie said. "Or longer if we need her to. At least until Kate's INR stabilizes."

"And have you made a doctor's appointment for you yet?" Martha asked.

"I... no," Lanie said. "They won't see me until ten weeks anyway, so I'm going to start researching that next week."

"You should think about a midwife," Martha said. "I had one for Richard."

"You had me at some hippie commune in Tennessee in 1971," Rick said. "I don't think it's Lanie's style."

Kate started coughing.

"What?" he said, looking at her.

She managed to clear her throat and said, "Your life just suddenly makes so much more sense to me."

"I don't even remember it," he said.

"I decided that I liked running water and flush toilets too much after he was born," Martha said. "But the midwives were very, very helpful. Made it almost fun. Right up until I started trying to wash diapers by hand. That was when I moved back to civilization. I made a truly terrible hippie." She looked around the table at the amused faces. "Please don't tell me that surprises you."

"I think it's that you would try to be a hippie at all," Rick said. "You like your creature comforts too much."

"At that point in my life, it was a very pretty ideal," she said. "Right up until we got to the kerosene lamps and the composting toilets. Oh, and I desperately wanted a hamburger. I think you were about three weeks old when I fled back to my aunt's apartment in New York."

"Are there pictures?" Kate asked.

"Somewhere," Martha said. "Just a few, but yes."

"Someday, I want to see them," Kate said.

"Someday, you just might," Martha said, with a sly grin. "But they're in the family-only album."

"No fishing, Mother," Rick snapped.

"Fine," she said, holding up her hands. "I don't need to know."

Getting up the stairs had actually not been all that difficult at the time. It was waking up the next morning that made Kate wish for a do-over.

Her chest didn't hurt. Not enough to speak of. But the rest of her... Before she had even opened her eyes, she was acutely aware of every reach, every bend, every step she'd taken the previous day. It wasn't that her body was telling her something was wrong, exactly, but that it was protesting a sudden return to activity after such a long, careful recovery. She started to move, and a groan escaped her.

"You okay?" Rick asked, rolling over to look at her.

"Ow," she said.

"Injury?" he asked.

"Nuh uh," she said, easing onto her back to discover him about four inches away from her face. "Just sore. All over."

"Told you not to overdo it," he said.

"No pain, no gain," she muttered.

"I could draw you a bath," he offered.

She chuckled. "Be better if you filled it with water, instead."

"Very funny, Amelia Bedelia," he said, rolling off the bed and into his slippers. He padded over to the bathroom, and she could hear water running. A minute later, he was back, and helping her up.

"Miss the electric bed?" he asked

"The electric bed doesn't even have magic fingers." She pulled up to a sitting position and swung her legs off the bed. "Did too much yesterday."

"I've been told that I have magic fingers," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"Rick, I like your fingers very much, but right now having my muscles pummeled into oblivion sounds more appealing." She slipped off the high, pillowtopped mattress and onto her feet and swayed for a moment.

"Doing all right there?" he asked, offering her an elbow.

She took it without comment, and walked with him to the bathroom. He was about to help her undress when she shooed him away. "I think I can handle this. But I'll need your help getting in." As she shrugged out of her top, a bemused expression flitted across her face. "I think everything hurts except what he treated me for yesterday."

"Need to get him back to treat the rest?" Rick asked.

"I can wait until Monday," she said. "But after how I felt last night..."

"Feel like a setback, waking up sore?" he asked

"A little frustrating, but I'll live. Still, my chest feels better, even if the rest of me is complaining."

She stepped out of her pajamas, and then took his hand to steady herself as she stepped into the oversized tub and lowered herself down. "Oh god," she murmured, as the water drove some of the ache away.

"Need breakfast in the tub?" he asked.

"Hmmm," she said, noncommittally. "Not hungry yet."

"I'll check back in a few to see if your head is still above water," he said. "Unless you need me to do your hair?"

"Lanie's having someone come to do that today, I think," Kate said. "I'll leave it up for now."

While she bathed, he shaved in the bathroom mirror. She watched him, and said, "Have you considered growing that out? Just, I don't know, to reduce the chance of you being recognized?"

"Wouldn't work," he said. "Doesn't grow in thick enough to disguise anything except my personal hygiene."

"Still," she said, "maybe we should ask the hair guy if he can do something for you too, in that department. You can't tell me you like being cooped up here."

"I'm with you," he said, dropping his chin and making a funny face in order to smooth out the surface he was shaving. "I don't mind being cooped up with you."

"If you weren't so recognizable," she said, "we could go out..."

He glanced over at her, and then returned his attention to shaving. "If they can come up with something that doesn't make me look like a bum or a terrorist," he said. "I'll consider it."

She let him help her out of the water half an hour later, still sore, but not as debilitatingly achy as she'd been when she woke up. Moving down the wide, open stairs was a slow, careful process. The stairs were divided into two shorter segments, with a landing between them, and she took advantage of the bench on that landing to rest before tackling the second set.

"I'm going to be running up and down these in a month," she said.

"I have no doubt," Rick agreed.

"I will."

With that, she took his hand and pulled back up to standing, then with a tight grip on the railing, continued down.

The bottom floor smelled delightful, something baked and something toasted and a rich, meaty sausage smell permeated the entire bottom part of the house.

Lanie sat at one of the counters, a small medical kit spread around her. "INR, then pills," she said, as Kate walked slowly in. "You doing okay there, sweetie?"

"Just sore from yesterday," Kate said. "Muscles, not injury."

"Told you you were doing too much," Lanie scolded. "Give me your finger. Jody's almost done with breakfast."

Kate flipped her bird at Lanie, who rolled her eyes and snagged Kate's hand. Wiping it first with an alcohol swab, then drying it with a cotton ball, she pressed the spring-loaded lancet to Kate's fingertip, then triggered it.

Kate winced. "I hate that."

"Don't be a baby," Lanie said.

"You just stabbed me," Kate said, as Lanie held the coagucheck test strip up to the drop of blood on her fingertip.

"You whine more about this than you did about getting shot," Lanie said, setting the device down and slapping a bandaid around the injured digit.

"Fingertips have more nerves," Kate said, and then smiled her thanks automatically as their chef slid a plate in front of her. "Am I supposed to eat all that?"

"Protein, fats, high quality carbs and lots of vitamins," Jody said, with a toss of her graying ponytail. "It's good for you. Especially if you're sore."

The little monitor on the counter beeped, and Lanie looked at it. "Okay, that's too low," she said. "You know how you hate having your finger poked?"

"Don't tell me you have to do it again," Kate said.

"No, but I think we should have you do a couple days of Lovenox until your INR stabilizes," Lanie said. "You're really low."

"I've never been really low."

"It's the herbs and the food," Lanie said. "Your liver is finally keeping up. Which is good, but slightly problematic for keeping you anticoagulated." She tapped in some numbers on her phone, and said, "We need to up your Coumadin, but we're going to do once-a-day Lovenox until your numbers are back up."

"I can drop her vitamin K intake," Jody said.

"No, please keep her level, we knew there would be an adjustment period," Lanie said.

Kate sighed. "You know I hate the shots."

"If you liked them, I'd worry about you," Lanie said over her shoulder as she went into the therapy room to find the pre-filled syringes.

"Just call me the human pincushion," Kate called after her.

Later that morning, the hair stylist showed up with an assistant. The man was tall and lean, and moved efficiently. His assistant, a young, slightly plump man with very short, mousy hair, dragged several heavy rolling suitcases, and looked harried.

"First thing you need to know," the man said in a surprisingly mellow baritone with a slight British accent, "is that I'm actually licensed as a counselor, in order to protect my clients' anonymity. Oh, and my name for those of you who just came in, is Harold Jones." As he talked, he laid out the tools of his craft on the kitchen counter. Lanie, Alexis and Kate watched from the stools, Rick leaned up against one wall. "I do not care who you are, and I will not tell anyone that you are my clients. Due to the nature of the work I do, most people do not want it known that I do work for them." He looked at his assistant and snapped his fingers, then pointed at one of the cases.

The assistant unzipped the case, and brought out a laptop and camera, and set them on the counter.

"Who is first?" Jones asked.

Everyone pointed at Kate. "I'm healing from an injury," Kate said, "so my stamina is low."

"All right then," Jones said, "Everyone else out. Shoo."

"I don't mind... "Kate started to say, but Jones waved his hand.

"I do. It's much easier to find out what you are really after if the discussion is not colored, so to speak, by other people."

Rick frowned, but said, "We'll be in the living room."

Once they were out of the room, Jones asked, "So what do you want from me today?"

"I need to look different. I was thinking blonde... It's mostly for out of the house."

"Wig then?" he asked.

She nodded. "But I'm also due for a trim."

"Fair enough. We'll pick out the wig first, then set you up with a shampoo with Joe, and I'll trim you once you're done with that. He moved around behind her and deftly brought her hair back into a low bun. "This will be better once we've done the trim, the bun will have less bulk," he said. "I recommend that for wearing in public, you do a coiled braid on the back of your head to keep your natural hair out of the way."

Once her hair was back, he looked thoughtfully at her face, then said to Joe, "Seven oh seven, in a 16/24."

The young man shifted to another of the suitcases, opened it, flipped through flat packets, and then brought out a long, plastic wrapped blonde wig. He pulled the package open, draped the wig over one fist, and then finger-combed the locks out before handing it to his boss.

Jones slid the wig onto Kate's head from the front, the slightly stretchy cap holding it tight. "You'll use clips for regular wearing," he said. "You won't need a lot, this is a good product, but a few... prevents unfortunate accidents, no?" He arranged the locks around her face. "Once your trim is done, we'll braid your hair up and trim the wig in place." He snapped his fingers again at Joe, who was already bringing over a surprisingly large mirror.

"What do you think?" Jones asked.

Kate looked. "I think it will do," she said.

He frowned. "Seven oh six, FS27."

Joe rummaged again, and brought out another wig.

"We're looking for something better than 'It will do,'" Jones said, sliding the first wig off and replacing it with the next one.

"I like being a brunette," Kate said.

Jones nodded absentmindedly as he arranged the hair around her shoulders. "Better?" The wig was a little brighter, the fall a little more natural.

She nodded. "I like that one."

"Splendid," he said. "Joe, take her back for a wash. Who shall I call in next?"

"Al...Cassie," Kate said.

"The girl? Very good." He gave a thin, humorless smile, and stepped into the other room.

The look on Castle's face when Kate walked into the living room as a blonde was a priceless blend of shock and short-circuited neural connections.

"Speechless?" Kate asked.

"You look... It's... very Daryl Hannah of you."

She frowned. "Splash, or Roxanne? So help me if you say Clan of the Cave Bear..."

He coughed. "Splash, but Daryl Hannah wishes she'd ever been as pretty."

Kate blushed. "So do gentlemen prefer blondes?"

"I prefer you, no disguises," he said. "But that look..."

She cocked her head and grinned. "So, how many times DID you see that movie just to see Daryl Hannah's naked ass?"

He shot his mother a frantic look. Martha was trying not to laugh at him. "He went half a dozen times that I knew about," Martha said. "And he insisted on buying the video tape when it was released."

He shot back at Kate, "You were four when it came out. How many times did you see it?"

"It's a rom-com," she said. "When I was twelve, once of my friends had the tape and we must have seen it fifty times one summer. When my mother found out, she just sighed and said, 'Please don't try to change who you are for a man, it never works.'"

"Better to find a man who'll change everything about himself?" Rick asked, amused.

She let a smile play across her lips, and gave a little shrug. "Whatever works. But better to find someone who doesn't have to change too much."

Joe poked his head into the room, and said, "Next please?"

Martha smiled and stood. "That would be me. I'm thinking... sleek, sophisticated, not too young, but maybe blonde should be the theme of the day..."

"Poor Jones," Rick said, as the door shut behind his mother. "He'll never know what hit him."

In the afternoon, when all their wigs and trims had been finished, a pair of massage therapists and beauty technicians showed up to complete the spa day. They cycled through, and toward the end, Martha and Kate ended up in the sauna, in preparation for their final massages.

"You know," Martha said, "you've actually had a profound effect on my son."

Kate looked over at her, and said, "Oh?"

"He's been changing ever since he met you," Martha said. "But it was never so clear as the day you were shot. I don't know... I don't think I ever really thought about how he'd be if someone he loved was hurt, but I didn't expect what I saw. He can be a very... passive man at times. He likes to go with the flow, even if the flow is kind of crazy. But that afternoon, I saw something else. Someone else. If I ever had to pinpoint the moment when my Peter Pan grew up, it would be that day."

"Tell me," Kate asked.

Martha's gaze grew distant as she remembered.

Martha drove Alexis and Jim to the hospital in the Prius. She'd wanted to stop at home, but Alexis had reminded her that Richard had taken to keeping a change of clothes in the back. On the way, they spoke little. Alexis managed, as they pulled into the parking structure, to say, "Do you think she's..."

"She's a strong woman," Martha said. "I'm sure she'll pull through. She has to."

Jim Beckett said not one word on the way over. His face was drawn, his eyes bleak.

They found Richard by following the sound of his raised voice. A nurse was desperately trying to explain that there was no way he could get information about Kate Beckett if he wasn't a family member.

"I'm Kate's father," Jim said as they got close enough. "He's family."

The nurse's demeanor changed completely. Castle took a breath and said, "I need a piece of paper, and I need to speak to your hospital administrator."

The nurse handed him a clipboard with a sheet of scrap paper and a pen with a flower taped to it. It was then that Martha noticed the blood, dried onto his hands. The nurse picked up the phone, and Richard started to write.

Martha opened her purse and found a moist towelette. She handed her purse to Alexis and moved to his free hand and started methodically cleaning the blood off while he wrote with the other hand. He didn't even seem to notice. When he stopped writing, he looked at the nurse, and turned the clipboard around. "That's the amount of money your hospital stands to gain if you get an administrator down here in the next ten minutes in order to address my partner's safety in this facility."

Her eyes widened, and she made another call.

Taking advantage of the fact that he'd stopped writing, Martha shifted to his other side and opened another serviette to clean Kate Beckett's blood of her son's other hand. He pulled his hand away, thumbed a number into his phone, and then stuck his hand back in her direction as he started to give instructions into the telephone.

A few minutes later, a woman in a business suit appeared, looking harried. The nurse spoke to her quickly, and showed her the clipboard, and she blinked, then took a deep breath and then pulled out her phone, and without taking her eyes off of Richard, who was still on the phone, made a phone call herself.

"Twenty minutes later, they were setting up half a wing for you and your security detail," Martha finished. "He was... commanding. Usually he gets what he wants by cosying it out of people, but this time? He was simply to be obeyed. There was no other option, and the people he was talking to knew it. He was so busy that it took us a couple of hours to get him to change out of his bloody suit. He didn't really slow down until they came out and told us that your chances of survival were looking good."

"And then?" Kate asked.

"And then he let me take him into a quiet room, help him change his shirt, and he... fell apart for a little while. Then he was back in the the thick of it again, on the phone, making arrangements."

"A lot of arrangements," Kate said.

"I'd say you have no idea," Martha said with a half smile, "But you're here, and I think you have an idea of what it took to get you here. And I don't know about you, but I'm getting a bit overheated. Shall we find out if they're ready for our massages?"

Alexis came bounding into the downstairs bedroom to wake Kate up from her afternoon nap near dinnertime, looking completely unlike herself. She had her new wig on, and the short, dark hair made her look almost like Audrey Hepburn. Kate rolled sleepily onto her back and said, "What did you do to your eyebrows?"

Alexis frowned. "Doesn't it work? I thought it was pretty good..."

"No, it's great, I'm just curious," Kate said. "They're not... red."

"Lanie did that," Alexis said. "With a very light mascara, actually."

"Huh," Kate said. "It makes the dark hair look more natural."

"That's the idea." Alexis grinned. "Ash and I actually going out for dinner. FINALLY."

"You've only been here a few days," Kate said, sitting up. "Little early to go stir crazy."

"But the chance to go out to eat without worrying about it turning up on page six?" Alexis said. "That's priceless. Carpe foodem."

Kate yawned and stretched, pleased to find that the morning's soreness had not rebounded on her. "So what did your dad do for a disguise? I was busy, and then napping..."

"You've got to see it," Alexis said. "He looks... you've just got to see it."

"He's still wearing it?" Kate asked.

"I think he wanted to surprise you," she answered.

Kate swung her legs over the side of the bed, and then waited while the world steadied. "This I've got to see," she said.

"Want a hand?" Alexis asked.

"Nah," Kate said. "Almost easier getting up by myself now. Mostly."

Martha and Jenny were sitting at the kitchen counter, watching the chef work on dinner. Martha's neat, silvered blonde bobbed wig and subdued makeup were a startling contrast to her signature red. "You look lovely," Kate said, with a nod in Martha's direction as she slid onto a stool next to them. "The hair suits you."

"You're not wearing yours?" Martha asked.

"I was asleep, and I'd rather keep it for leaving the house," Kate said, self-consciously touching the slightly mussed braids she still wore.

"I like the coiled braid," Jenny said.

Kate smiled. "Have you seen Lanie?"

"Ah... I think she might have been tossing her cookies in the front bathroom," Martha said. "She was looking surprisingly green when I last saw her."

"Isn't that kind of early?" Kate asked.

"Oh, I started losing mine before I even knew I was pregnant," Martha said. "But we didn't have those super early tests back then, and morning sickness practically was our version of an early pregnancy test."

"How far along is she?" Jenny asked. "She never said."

"Six weeks," Kate answered absentmindedly. "Approximately."

"Is that adding that weird extra two weeks in or not?" Martha asked.

"Adding," Kate said. "She's missed her period by two weeks."

"Sounds about right," Martha said. "That's when it hit with my son."

"And you forgave him?" Lanie said from the doorway.

"Oh eventually," Martha answered. "How are you, kiddo?"

"Oh, I've been better. I cannot remember the last time that happened to me."

Kate winced. "I remember. You were too drunk..."

"Figures," Lanie said, pulling a glass out of the cupboard and drawing water from the fridge door. "How long does the random nausea last?"

"It's different for everyone, I think," Martha said. "I felt better, oh... two, three months in?"

Lanie sighed. Then she looked at Kate. "So have you seen your man yet?"

Kate gave a curious shake to her head, and Lanie grinned.

"I can't wait to see your face."

"That different?" Kate asked.

"How do you feel about facial hair?" Lanie asked.

Kate shrugged. "I suggested he grow a beard this morning."

"Trust me," Martha said, "This is better than anything my son could manage on his own."

"Are you mocking me, again, Mother?" Rick's voice came from the other room.

"Come show Kate your new look," Martha said.

They heard his footsteps, and Kate turned. She stared at him for a long moment, face impassive. He began to look nervous.

"It was your idea," he said.

She let a grin spread wide across her face, and slid off the bar stool. She eyed him appraisingly, head cocked to one side. "Not too bad."

His hand went up to run thoughtfully through the short clipped and surprisingly natural looking beard on his chin. "Feels weird."

"Let me be the judge," she said, stepping up to him at the doorway and tugging slightly at the short hairs. "It's well attached. You can take it off, right?"

He nodded. "Have to, in order to shave, ironically."

She considered his chin for a long moment. "You know, I think it looks quite...writerly."

"Yes, but is it me?" he asked.

"Not even in the slightest," Kate said. "But that the point, is it not?"

"It is," he said. "Does this mean I can take you out now?"

She gave a rueful laugh and said, "Will you hate me if I say, 'Not tonight, dear, I'm too tired?'"

The look in his eyes was intense as he said, "I'd never hate you, and I'm happy to take a rain check. I'd like you to be able to enjoy it."

She felt the color rise in her cheeks. "I'm looking forward to it."

"You two are so damn cute," Lanie said. "It's actually nauseating."

"Coming from you right now, that's not saying much," Kate shot back.

"You have a point," Lanie said, and dashed towards the laundry room sink, looking queasy.

The next morning, Kate's body ached less, but her wound was starting to nag again. Getting down the stairs was easier, but reaching was harder. Sundays had become an "off" day by default, and she spent most of it reading, taking time in the afternoon to swim, or rather, to walk around the pool slowly while Rick sat beside it, typing. Much to her amusement, he'd simply slipped an overlarge ziplock over the laptop and typed through the opening.

"What, no super-rugged waterproof laptop?" she asked, folding her arms on the edge of the pool.

He glanced up, and shrugged. "I hate switching machines when I'm on a roll," he said. "And they're heavier."

She resisted the temptation to splash at him. "Book four, still?" she asked.

He blinked and looked momentarily confused.

"You're not writing fiction, are you?" she said, brows knitting.

"I'm almost done with book four," he said, after a moments-too-long hesitation.

"And that was almost an answer..."

"And right at the moment, no, you're right, but I'm not quite ready to share yet."

She raised her eyebrows. "That's a lot of typing for not-fiction."

"Not sharing yet," he repeated.

She sighed, and slipped backwards off the edge. "I'm getting tired of being out of the loop," she said over her shoulder, as she trudged another lap around the neck-deep portion of the pool.

"You seem to be looping just fine," he responded, and returned to typing.

She rolled her eyes without bothering to look at him, and after completing another lap, kicked backwards to float on her back in the surprisingly cool June sunshine, sculling lightly with her hands to keep herself on the surface.

After her swim, he helped her up the steps from the pool area to the laundry room, and into the downstairs bedroom to change. The wound kept catching her, and after her fourth aborted attempt to reach or turn, she finally snapped.

It was surprisingly quiet, snapping. She wanted to throw things, but knew it would hurt, which made it worse. She wanted to hit something or kick or scream, but experience said that once the pain started, anything she did was likely to worsen it, so she just sat on the edge of the bed, shaking in fury while Rick rummaged in the closet for her clothes. Shaking silently, so he wouldn't...

He noticed when he turned around. "You okay ther..." he started to say.

"Shut up, Castle," she snapped.

He blinked, opened his mouth, thought the better of it, closed it again, and frowned.

"If it's about what I was writing..." he said, after a long moment of watching her eyes attempt to bore holes in the wall about three inches above the baseboard, tension vibrating through her shoulders, her fingers knotted deep into the knitted throw she was sitting on.

"It's not fucking about that," she said through clenched teeth.

He stood still, considering his options, a small stack of her clothing sitting forgotten in his hands. He glanced down, realized he was still holding them, decided that she probably wasn't strong enough yet to really cause him harm if he approached, and set the clothes on the bedside table before gingerly sitting down to her left on the bed.

He waited.

After a little while, he reached over, and ran a hand across her shoulders.

She tensed for a moment, and then sagged against him. He turned, reflexively, and she buried her nose into his t-shirt. "I'm so tired of hurting," she said quietly. "It was better. It's not supposed to get worse once it gets better."

"Acupuncturist will be back tomorrow," he said. "It will feel better again."

"But can I trust that?" she asked. "Is it just masking the pain? I thought when it worked so well that maybe the pain was a habit, that the damage was more healed than we'd thought..."

"And now you're wondering if it's another drug..." he ventured.

"Yeah."

"I think," he said carefully, "that it's an encouragement. You know it can hurt less now, that it won't hurt forever. So you have some more healing to do. We knew that."

"I just... I miss my life," she said. "I miss being in charge of the case at hand. I miss people looking to me for answers, for guidance. The only think I can think that would having you writing so much that you wouldn't switch machines is some sort of active theory-building, and you're supposed to be doing that with me, and I know I'm not at the top of my game right now, but fuckitall, I'm TIRED of afternoon naps and being cossetted and not being able to HELP when you're obviously on to something."

"And it pisses you off to no end that you still clearly need the afternoon nap and the cossetting," he said into her hair. "If it's any comfort, what I'm doing isn't really theory building."

"Can you tell me?" she asked.

"Can," he said. "But it's a long story. And you're tired, and you need some sleep, and if you can wait a couple more days, I think you'll be ready for the big picture. And we'll be ready to give it to you."

She pounded a fist against his chest, more show than substance, banging her head gently against his shoulder in frustration.

He suppressed a chuckle. "I know it's maddening, but I think we're close... really close. And I'll carry you up to the third floor myself on Tuesday if you'll let me tell you the story in my own time."

At that, she pulled back and stared at him. "You said I'd need to walk up there," she said.

"Bet you can, Tuesday," he said. "But even if you can't, if we're really as close as Jordan thinks we are, I'll carry you up there myself."

She sighed. "Fine."

He leaned forward, and kissed her. It caught her off guard, but the heat and tingling chased the pain back into a distant corner, and she found herself responding. A moment later she broke the kiss and said against his lips, "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked.

"For helping chase the pain away," she said.

He grinned, and kissed her again.

The dinner table was oddly quiet that evening. Javi and Kevin both looked completely preoccupied. Lanie was nowhere to be seen. She'd taken one look at the dinner preparations, turned an odd sickly shade, and disappeared upstairs. Ashley and Alexis were out again. Martha tried valiently to maintain some sort of normal dinner conversation, but the mood was strained.

Every once in a while, Kevin would start to open his mouth, but either he'd remember or Javier would kick him and he'd shut it again without getting more than a syllable out. He and Javier seemed to be having a fairly complex nonverbal conversation which Jenny watched with a scholarly interest.

Kate, watching Jenny watching the boys, half expected her to pull out a steno pad and start taking anthropological notes. She snorted at the thought, and everyone at the table looked at her.

She sighed. "Nothing to see here. Carry on with whatever you're not talking about."

"I've got to get back upstairs," Ryan said, abruptly, glancing at a text on his phone, standing with unseemly haste and dropping a kiss on Jenny's head.

Jenny watched him go, and asked no one in particular, her tone showing mild curiosity but no upset, "Is this normal behavior when he's on a case?"

Javier shrugged apologetically. "Normally we'd be rattling off at each other, but we don't usually have our families around when a case is getting hot." Then he blinked at his own phone. "And I need to go up too." He caught Rick's eye, raised an eyebrow.

Kate looked over at Rick, who was clearly torn. She rolled her eyes. "Go play with the boys," she said. "I'm sure you'll be more useful up there if you're not worrying about what you're not telling me."

He hesitated another moment, then leaned over, pressed a quick, hard kiss to her forehead, and said, "Have someone call for me if you need help getting up to the bedroom."

"I'll be fine," she said.

"Bout time you gave us a turn to help her," Jim said mildly. "Go."

Kate picked at her food for a few minutes, sighed, and then forced herself to continue eating.

"You okay?" Jenny asked, picking up her plate and moving over to the now vacant seat to Kate's left.

Kate gave the woman a polite smile, and said, "It's just weird not to be in the thick of it with them. I'll be fine."

"I wish I knew how to help," Jenny said.

Kate gave her a slightly puzzled look, and Jenny elaborated. "It's just... you at least know how you would help them, if you were able. I'm a second grade schoolteacher, and I'm here because Kevin wants me safe, but I don't even have healing as an excuse. So I hang out and bring them food when they forget to come down for lunch, and hold him at night, but even if they'd let me do more, I wouldn't know where to begin. You at least have the skill set, even if you don't have the physical ability to get in there right now and do it."

"Bringing food and catching him at night helps more than you could possibly know," Kate said. Then she chuckled a little. "Actually, that's how Rick managed to worm his way in... he kept feeding me when I'd be so busy that I'd forget to eat."

"He always did that to me, too," Martha said, almost sheepish. "He was making a greasy breakfast by the time he was nine."

"Kind of a role reversal here, then?" Jenny asked.

"In so many ways," Kate said. "It drives me crazy, but he knows it and doesn't rub it in." Then she sighed, and looked at her plate. The greens were gone, nothing else on the plate was quite as mandatory for her "measured vitamin K intake" and she looked over at her father, sitting quietly, observing as he did so many nights.

"Dad?" she asked.

His eyebrow went up.

"Could you help me up to bed?"

A funny look crossed his face, almost nostalgic, a little surprised, a little pleased, and he said, "Of course, sweetheart. Would you like Martha to come help with the more... personal stuff?"

"I can handle most of it," Kate said, "But I wouldn't mind the company while I get changed."

"Happy to help, kiddo," Martha said.

Jenny glanced down the table at the half finished dinners the boys had left behind, and said, "I appear to have one job on this ship, and I'm going to do it." She pulled a tray out of the narrow side table, and deftly arranged the plates and accoutrements on it to take upstairs.

"Two jobs," Kate called after her. "He does need you, you know."

Jenny looked back over her shoulder with a small, soft smile, and said, "I know."

Her dad stayed at her elbow as she climbed the stairs, ready, but not pushing, as she slowly made her way up to the first landing. Martha moved around them and went up ahead, saying, "I'll just get things ready."

Kate glanced at her dad, who watched Martha go with a bemused look on his face. At the landing, she sat for a moment on the bench, and said, "You two seem to be getting along well."

"She's a funny lady," he said. "A good friend."

"Nothing more?" Kate asked, almost teasing.

He laughed. "She's not my type, and I'm not hers, and neither one of us is looking at the moment. But she's good company, and I'm apparently a good influence."

"Oh?" Kate said, leaving the question hanging.

"She hasn't had a drink since she got here." Jim said.

"There hasn't been alcohol in the house, has there?" Kate asked.

"Rick said no, very early on, when the boys talked about bringing it in. Said we all needed to stay on our toes. But I think he was trying to make it easier for me, and Martha just followed suit."

"I'm not sure I'd seen her sober very often before this..." Kate said, "but I think I like her better sober. Not that I didn't like her before, but it's more real now."

"Most of us are better, sober," Jim said. "Took me a long time to get that."

"I'm less giddy," Martha said from the landing at the top of the stairs. "But I think I'm more present. If we'd stayed in New York I would have hidden in a wine bottle. Now I'm just hiding in wine country. It has its charm."

Kate looked up at her with a smile. "We're glad you're here."

"It's not the rush and bustle of the city," Martha said, "But about the time people start shooting at the doorman, the city loses a bit of the...allure."

"I'm hoping it will be over soon," Kate said. "And everyone can breathe a little easier, get back to their normal lives."

"I wouldn't mind having the background terror subside, I will confess," Martha said. "But really, I'm not missing the city anywhere near as much as I thought I would. There's a luxury of time right now, and of lack-of-expectation, that's really quite charming. Besides, it's the big family I never got to have, ready-made."

Kate laughed as she took her father's hand and pulled up to her feet. "Complete with pregnant niece?"

"Ah yes, getting to impart my maternal wisdom," Martha said. "You know, I actually did rather like having Richard, I just wasn't very adept at being a mother to him once I had him, you know? We were fine right up until he learned how to run and talk, and then it was all downhill."

"I can imagine," Kate said dryly, as she stepped slowly up the stairs. "I never could control him either."

"I learned eventually to aim him, more than lead him," Martha said. "But I think you already have the knack of that."

"I never figured out the whole aim thing," Jim said.

"I know, I share a bathroom with you," Martha said, teasing.

"Hey, at least I don't hover," Jim shot back.

"I'm getting way too many mental images for my own sanity," Kate said, wincing.

"Sorry," Martha said, without an ounce of remorse in her tone.

They hit the top of the stairs, and Martha said, "I think I can take over from here, at least until we're done with your nightly ablutions."

Jim gave Kate a hug, and excused himself across the hall to his bedroom.

Kate moved slowly, getting ready for bed. Martha watched, not anticipating the way Rick would, but letting Kate stretch a little, helping only when Kate actually winced.

"Hard day?" Martha asked.

"Was it obvious?" Kate said, easing her way into a kimono top.

"You're a strong, independent woman. This can't be easy for you, and I know that it must be discouraging to have a step back after your steps forward."

Kate looked at Martha, and said, "It's just getting too easy to let people take care of me. I feel like I'm forgetting who I am, who I was... It was one thing before, but now that the case is heating up... I'm supposed to be in charge of those guys, not waiting for my knights to rescue me."

"They always talk to people about the stages of grief," Martha said. "But nobody talks about the stages of healing from something like this. It seems like when people are hurt, badly, the hardest time isn't when they're in the hospital, or when they're still weak, it's when they start to get strong, when they start to want to do more, but the wanting moves faster than the strength. I remember when Richard managed to come down with pneumonia when he was small. It was terrifying but not especially difficult to take care of him when he was weak... but the most trying part of the whole thing was when he felt better but didn't have his strength back. He'd get up to do something, not have the energy to keep at it, and then spend the whole afternoon moping because he couldn't do whatever he finally had the desire to do."

Kate chuckled. "I can totally see him doing that."

"So tell me," Martha said, "Did that laugh just hurt?"

Kate shook her head. "It didn't."

Martha smiled. "You're still ahead of where you were, then."

Kate nodded and started to reach for her pants, then stopped. "Could you..."

"Of course, darling," Martha said, bending to help with that last, frustrating task.

"I had a day when I could pull them up myself," Kate said.

"And you'll have more again soon."

"Martha?" Kate said, hesitantly.

"Hmm?" Martha responded.

Kate said, "I want to thank you."

"For helping you pull up your pants?" Martha asked.

"Oh, I do appreciate that," Kate said, "but I hear you talk about mothering Rick and I want you to know... I think you raised an amazing man."

Martha gave a soft, self-deprecating smile. "I wish I could take the credit," she said. "But I think Alexis, and lately, you, have a whole lot to do with who he's become."

"He's better off for having you as a mother," Kate said firmly. "And don't think I haven't seen you mothering all of us. You're not half so bad at it as you'd have us think. And his capacity for love is..."

"He's always had a big heart." Martha paused, then said, "You know, I worried for a long time that you would break his heart. You still could, but I worry less that you will."

Kate looked down, and said quietly, "No, I don't think I could at this point."

Martha cocked her head to one side and looked at her sharply. "Couldn't? Or wouldn't."

Kate met Martha's gaze, and said, "I don't think I could let him go. God knows he'd be safer if I did. But the idea of trying to do it without him..."

"He doesn't want safe," Martha said. "He just wants you. I don't think I've ever seen him more in love, and that man has fallen in love more often in his life than anyone I've ever known. If he doesn't ask you to marry him, I'll be shocked. And disappointed, because I didn't raise him to be stupid."

"I wouldn't say no," Kate said under her breath, and then her eyes widened. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Martha chuckled. "Yes, you did."

"He's mentioned it, but always in offhand, 'future theoretical' ways," Kate said. "And mostly accidentally. But enough that I've thought about it. But I think he's waiting for something. For me to be better, for the case to break, for us to be back in New York. Something."

"He can be stupid that way," Martha said.

"Oh, I don't think it's stupid," Kate said. "I've imagined proposals before, and none of them involved me needing help getting my pants on. And he likes big gestures. I can wait."

"Or you could ask him," Martha said.

Kate blinked, and then said, "And rob him of his big moment?"

"You do like catching him off guard," Martha said, her eyes twinkling.

"Still," Kate said. "There's catching him off guard, and then there's stealing his thunder."

Martha raised her eyebrows, "Both of which you're very good at, and it's part of what he loves about you."

"I'm not that desperate," Kate said.

"Oh, no, kiddo. I know you're not. And he knows you're not. I'm just saying... how long did it take for him to get around to actually making a move in the first place?"

"Pushing for more grandchildren?" Kate asked dryly.

"Me?" Martha said, wide-eyed. "I would never presume to assume that you were planning on having children. That's a very personal decision, and you're an independent and career-minded woman. And while I love having a granddaughter, being 'Grandma' has never been my raison d'être. Besides, clearly you're not going to be rushing off to make babies any time soon."

Kate tipped her head in acknowledgment.

"But I trust you two to figure it out. I just worry it's going to take another three years for you two to dance around to the point," Martha said. "And grandchildren or no, I'm not getting any younger. I'd like to see that boy happy and settled. Life is far, far too short."

"You're not that old," Kate said.

"The love of my life, my high school sweetheart, died of old age and natural causes this year," Martha said. "It makes one feel one's age. And I waited far too long."

Kate reached over and took Martha's hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. "We'll find our way, in our own time. And we won't wait too long."

"You need any more help?" Martha asked, and Kate was almost certain the older woman had winked.

Kate laughed in spite of herself. "No, I think that's probably quite enough. Thank you."

The late evening June sun filtered through the trees outside her window as Martha left the room. Kate slid under the light summer covers, and found herself shifting to get comfortable. It took her fifteen minutes to realize she was missing Rick's solid presence, before she shook herself with mild annoyance and settled into her older sleep position. It took far too long for her mind to still and her body to quiet into sleep.

Kate was dimly aware of Rick crawling in next to her in the wee hours. She rolled up against him, sleepily, and said, "Big break?"

She could feel, more than hear the chuckle deep in his chest. "You know how we get flashes of inspiration that let us break a case wide open?"

She nodded against him.

He sighed. "Well, this isn't like that. The pieces are coming together, but Kate, we've never been up against anything this big. I feel like Melinda Mae eating the whale."

She laughed. "Hopefully it won't take you 89 years."

"No, it's just going to feel like it. But we are in fact making progress."

"Missed you at bedtime," she said.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Yeah."

"Hard to sleep when you're not here," she murmured.

His chest rumbled gently, almost like a purr. "Sleep now," he said. "Tomorrow is a busy day."

When she woke, he was nowhere to be seen. She stared at the empty spot beside her for a moment, then rolled over to see a note propped up on the little bed table. It said, simply, "Call if you need help." Under it was one of the ubiquitous burner phones, his number already up on the screen.

She sat up, noting some soreness, a few twinges, but a little better than the day before. Outside, the morning was foggy, and cool, with mist clinging to the trees next to the window. She took a deep breath, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

It cost a few twinges, but she managed to get dressed completely on her own, even managed to keep her hands steady enough to put on a little bit of makeup and get her hair in some semblance of presentability.

Satisfied, she left the bedroom and walked toward the staircase leading to the third floor. As she passed Lanie and Javier's room, she heard a retching sob, and frowned. The door was open, and she peeked in cautiously. No one was visible, but she could hear Lanie in the bathroom.

"You okay?" Kate asked at the nearly closed door.

Another heave and then, "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine." Kate said. "I'm coming in."

This was greeted by only the sound of more heaving. Kate pushed the door open, to find Lanie sitting on the edge of the tub, one hand braced on the back of the toilet, gagging over the bowl. She didn't appear to be actually vomiting, and looked startlingly pale, and without makeup, profoundly unlike her usual upbeat self. Her skin looked dry, and to Kate's eye, it looked like the already petite woman had lost weight in the 48 hours or less since the nausea had started.

Kate grabbed a washcloth off the towel rack, ran it under the cold water, and moved over to put it on the back of Lanie's neck.

Lanie gagged again, and then said, "It's just morning sickness."

"How long has it been since you kept anything down?" Kate asked. "Because you look like shit."

"Thanks," Lanie managed, before gagging again. "And I can't remember."

"We need to get you hydrated," Kate said.

Lanie choked back another heave and said, "Look at you, doctoring me."

"You're clearly not up to doing the job yourself," Kate said. "So, Dr. Parish, what SHOULD you be doing right now?"

Lanie breathed heavily for a long moment. "Hydration. Nutrition. Find something to stop the heaving."

"Think you can get downstairs?" Kate asked.

"Think you can?" Lanie shot back, and then heaved again.

"I know I can," Kate said. "But all the medical supplies are down there. And unless I'm missing my bet, you're going to need IV fluids before you're going to be able to keep anything down by mouth."

"When did you get so smart?" Lanie asked.

"I've got smart friends," Kate said. "But I'm right, aren't I? Can you start an IV on yourself?"

Lanie nodded, gagged, shook her head, and then said, "But Javi can do it, he's had training."

"You think he's going to be able to put an IV in you?" Kate said, disbelieving.

"He'd better."

Kate pulled the phone out of her pocket, and sent a text to Rick.

Javier appeared a minute later, followed closely by Rick.

"We need to get her downstairs," Kate said. "And hydrated. She said you know how to start an IV?"

"From special ops, yeah, I know the basics," Javier said. "Do we have the stuff?"

Rick snorted. "Do we have the stuff, he asks."

Lanie gagged, and the men winced. When the heaves subsided, she said, "Yes, we have the stuff, and you can quit looking at me that way."

"Now can I help you down the stairs?" Javier asked.

She nodded, and snagged the small trash can from next to the toilet as he helped her to her feet.

Rick proffered his arm to Kate. She rolled her eyes, but took it as they followed their friends down the stairs.

They settled Lanie in the remaining chair in the therapy room, while Javier rummaged through the medical supplies. "Lactated Ringers or saline?" he asked.

"Ringers," Lanie said. "And I think there's some dextrose solution in there."

He laid out the supplies briskly, precisely, on the lid of one of the plastic totes.

Rick quietly ducked into the living room and snagged a chair from the dining table for Kate, who sank into it gratefully next to Lanie, taking her friend's hand.

Javier, sitting on the stool the therapists normally used, scooted across the floor to them with his tray. He listed out the supplies, and showed them to Lanie. She looked it over, and nodded, watching as he set the elastic tourniquet around her upper arm. She rolled her eyes when she realized his hand was shaking slightly and said, "Suck it up soldier. I'm one of your buddies, and you need to just do this."

He blinked, took a breath, and then nodded, his hands steadier. He didn't meet her gaze as he swabbed her arm. "They're flatter than the ones I've worked with," he said.

"Do you say that to all the girls?" Lanie asked, fighting back a gag.

He rolled his eyes, and she made a fist to help the vein stand up. He stared at her arm for a long moment before sliding the needle in, watching for the telltale that he'd placed it correctly. When a little spot of red appeared above the catheter, he slid the fine tube down the needle, flicked the tourniquet off, put a little pressure on the vein, and pulled the needle out, quickly replacing it with the tubing from the IV solution. A little film of plastic went over the site to hold things in place, and Lanie nodded, reached over, and opened the valve.

"That right?" he asked. She nodded as she felt the cool liquid move into her vein.

"You can piggyback the dextrose there," she said, pointing to a port a little higher up the tubing. "And hand the bag to Rick, he's tall. And I'm too nauseated for you all to start cracking pole jokes."

Rick rolled his eyes and flicked something on the chair, then telescoped out a pole and latched it in place, folding out two small hooks at the top and hanging the two IV solutions from it.

"Damn, man, you've got the weirdest toys," Javier said, capping the needle and taking it to the sharps container in the kitchen.

Kate watched Lanie for a long moment. "You've stopped gagging," she said. "That fast?"

Lanie nodded. "Still queasy as hell."

"What do we need to do for Kate that you normally do?" Rick asked.

"Bring the kit in here," Lanie said. "We can still do it. What time is it?"

"A little after seven thirty," Kate said, glancing at her father's watch. "Jody should be here any minute, and I have therapy at nine."

"Get her some water," Lanie called after Rick.

Jody came in a few minutes later, saw the IV, cocked her head at Lanie, said, "Morning sickness?" and disappeared into the kitchen when Lanie nodded.

"Nausea better yet?" Kate asked.

"Yeah," Lanie said. "But I can't run around with an IV in my arm for the next six weeks."

"Isn't acupuncture supposed to be good for nausea?" Kate asked. "We've got him scheduled for eleven."

"Honey, I'll try anything at this point," Lanie said. "I seriously do not comprehend how the human race continues if pregnancy makes people feel like THIS."

Ten minutes later Jody came back out of the kitchen with a tray. "You need protein and complex carbs," she said. "See if that sits."

She set the tray down across the arms of Lanie's chair.

Lanie looked at the browned piece of bread skeptically. "What is it?"

"Egg in a hole," Jody said. "Stays down better than just about anything, and should help you get back on a more even keel. Let me guess.. you got queasy and quit eating or drinking because the thought made you queasy, and then the dehydration and low blood sugar made you queasier?"

Lanie looked about as sheepish as Kate had ever seen her look, but salted the plate and took a cautious bite of egg and bread. "Why does that taste so good?" she asked.

"Pregnancy paradox," Jody said. "Perfectly ordinary things taste fantastic, things you normally love send you to the porcelain throne. Drink your tea."

"Caffeinated?"

"Ginger-mint, with lime peel and honey," Jody said. "I've got a vat of it brewing on the stove, I'm going to send out one of your hunky guys to pick up some jars for it so you can keep it in the fridge all the time."

Lanie took a sip, and then nodded. "That feels like it could settle anything."

"If you can keep those down, in an hour you need to eat something else. Ideally every hour, you'll have something small. That way if you lose your lunch, it's not very big, and your blood sugar should stay more stable. And you don't have to eat things that smell bad to you, but you do need to eat something."

By the time Amy showed up for the therapy appointment, Lanie had removed her IV tubing, having replaced over a liter of fluid that way, and eaten a piece of fruit. She held a faux to-go cup filled with Jody's tea concoction like a security blanket, taking tiny sips from the cream-colored plastic cup every few minutes. "Think I'm going to crash on the couch while you therapize," she said to Kate.

"Is that even a word?" Kate asked.

"Do I care?" Lanie said wearily. "It's hard to sleep when you're gagging. Now that I'm not, I'm tired."

"I'll have someone wake you when the pokey doc gets here," Kate said.

She expected that Rick would be heading back upstairs, but he urged Javier to go, and said he'd be up when Kate's therapy was over. Following a now-established pattern, he stepped onto the treadmill and started jogging, his eyes never leaving Kate. She ignored the staring, falling back on years of habit, tuning him out.

Therapy started out better than it had been the previous week, but Amy took the improvement as a sign that it was time to start regaining lost range of motion.

Kate kept it together for the first half hour, but then something shifted, and a new exercise caught her off guard, and she yelped, tears springing to her eyes. She let her head drop down, pulling her arm in, and then, wincing, extended it again.

It was the absence of sound that made her look over at Rick. He'd stopped jogging, and had a strange expression on his face as he looked at her. Suddenly she couldn't stand it, and she said through clenched teeth, "Quit staring, Castle."

"Why?" he asked.

She scowled at him. "Because I don't need you staring at me when I'm..." She stopped, and shook her head, and pushed the stretch a little farther under Amy's watchful eye.

"When you're what, Kate?"

"Crying," she spit out. "Weak."

Damn it if he didn't chuckle at that.

"What?" she said, dropping her arm down and turning to look at him.

"Is that what you think I'm seeing?" he said. "Because what was going through my head right then was how amazingly strong you must be to keep going when it obviously hurts like a sonofabitch."

Her mouth snapped shut, and she turned, and said to Amy, "What's next?"

Acupuncture left her with barely enough energy to eat lunch, and she crawled gratefully into the downstairs bed as soon as she'd downed her measured portion of greens and required caloric intake. She was vaguely aware as she ate that the food was actually good, but she was so tired from the two kinds of therapy that she barely had the energy to lift her fork. As Rick tucked her in, she said, "I just hope I feel as good as I did after the first session when I wake up."

He smiled and dropped a kiss on her cheek. "If you do, I'll take you out to dinner if you like."

She smiled wearily, eyes already closed. "Ask me when I'm awake."

"Yes'm," he drawled. "I'll be upstairs. Call me if you..."

She was already out.

She did, in fact, feel extremely refreshed when she woke, hours later.

She noticed the little note first, then she realized that it was propped up against a bud vase, with a single red rose in it.

She flipped the little card open to find just one word in it, in his familiar hand.

Dinner?

Bemused, she looked more closely at the rose. Not actually a classic florist's bud, the stem wasn't straight and had a few fine thorns on it. The rose was not so much deep red as it was so extraordinarily dark pink that it looked red at first glance. She picked up the vase to avoid the thorns, and sniffed. The flower was more open than a traditional longstem bud, and smaller, but the fragrance was heady and intense.

She grinned. He'd brought it in from the yard then. She'd dubbed that bush her favorite, because of the smell, and she wondered how many drops of blood the bush had exacted as payment for the little flower.

She picked up her phone, to find a text already up.
You awake?

She sent back, Am now.

She put the phone back down and buried her nose in the small rose. A minute later, she heard him say from the doorway, "Glad you like it."

"Yes," she said.

"Yes, you like the flower?" he asked

"Yes, I'd like to go out to dinner with you, if it's not too complicated." She put the rose back down next to the bed, and looked over at him.

"Define complicated," he said.

"Security, travel..." She trailed off, leaving it open.

"We'll need our crafty disguises," he said. "And they can either drive us over or send a detail after us. The restaurant I want to take you to isn't far. Oh, and Jody said she'd call the restaurant and go over your requirements."

"I can't just order off the menu, can I," she said, resigned. It wasn't really a question.

"It's actually not that sort of restaurant," he said. "They've only got three options, and Jody can give them the lowdown for whatever option you choose."

"Now I'm curious," she said. "Dress?"

"I've got one for you," he said.

"Of course you do. But how fancy is this place?"

"Fancy enough to give us a fair amount of privacy, and very good food," he said. He sounded almost wary.

She was quiet for a long moment, and then said, "Braid my hair? For the wig?"

His delighted grin as he bounced onto the bed behind her made he chuckle and shake her head as she reached into the side table for the comb, hair bands and bobby pins.

"How's Lanie?" she asked, as he started to separate her hair into sections.

"Better," he said. "Complaining about having to eat all the time, but she hasn't thrown up since the acupuncture treatment. Oh, and I asked Jody where she'd gotten her tea recipe."

"Yeah?" Kate said, mildly interested.

"She seemed surprised, then told me, 'Oh, you haven't seen my car, then.' So of course I had to go out to the driveway and look. She's got a bumper sticker that says, 'My wife is a midwife.'"

"Welcome to California?" Kate said, with a smile.

"Yeah, so her wife is coming over tomorrow to check on Lanie."

"I think I have to see that," Kate said. "The doctor and the midwife..."

"Given that Lanie hasn't thrown up since this morning," he said, "In large part due to Jody's help, I think she might be more open to it than you think. And you'll be busy," he said.

"Oh really?"

"You're going to climb the stairs," he said.

She blinked. "All day?"

"I think you're going to want to stay there for a while," he said. "It's not... simple."

"When is it ever?" she asked.

"Where's the wig?" he said.

"On a stand in the closet," she answered.

He clambered off the bed, and opened the closet. "Auugh!" he said. "Severed head! Hey, that's kind of cool."

She rolled her eyes. "Wig stand."

"It's looking at me."

"Alexis decided it needed a face."

"Did she have to make it so... woeful?" he asked, bringing the stand down and removing the wig from it.

"She said you'd appreciate it. Apparently she knows you too well."

"It is pretty awesome," he conceded, setting it on the dresser and looking at it critically. Then he turned it. "Zombie head wig stand."

"She is, after all, your daughter," Kate said.

"Yeah, but you let her do it, which makes you pretty cool yourself."

Kate smirked at him, then took the wig and flipped it on, securing it into position with a few well placed bobby pins.

He blinked at her. "Still looks very Daryl to me."

"Just tell me you didn't get me a mermaid dress."

"Damn," he answered. "Missed a bet. That would have been amazing. Be right back."

He reappeared a few minutes later with something red and floaty draped over his arm.

"Fine," she said. "But no hovering while I'm changing."

"You might need help?"

"You might be grasping at straws?" she shot back. "Besides. It's not like you don't get to see me naked almost every day."

"Didn't get to see you naked today," he said.

She considered throwing a pillow at him, thought better of it and said, "Shoo. I'll come out when I'm ready." Then she blinked. "But where are my shoes?"

"I'll tell you if you let me help you change," he said.

"If you don't tell me, I can't very well go to dinner with you."

"You and your logic," he grumbled. "Fine. I'll go get your shoes. You put the dress on."

Once he was out of the room, she moved over to the closet, where most of her clothing was still. Rummaging, she found the lingerie drawer. Most of what she'd been wearing was on the sensible side of sexy, but she was pleased and only slightly alarmed to find what she had hoped she would find. It was somehow reassuring to know that he hadn't resisted that particular temptation when buying her wardrobe.

That the black lace bra had a front clasp did not escape her. Nor did the fact that the garters were actually easier to deal with than full hose would have been.

"Tonight," she murmured. "You can see me tonight."

The dress was a wrap dress, sleeveless, with a gossamer floating skirt, in an astonishing shade of red. She slipped into it, securing it easily, and experimentally lifted onto her toes. She winced. "You can come back, Rick."

He came in with a shoe box in his hands.

"It will be a crime to wear this dress with flats, but I don't think I'm up to heels yet," she said.

"Kitten heels," he said. "Amy approved. If you're not steady enough on them, I have flats for you."

The simple black low-heeled shoes were startlingly comfortable.

"Are you up to doing your own makeup?" he asked.

She nodded. "But it's upstairs."

He rolled his eyes and handed her a small black pocketbook, that matched the shoes nicely.

"You have unnervingly good taste for a straight man," she said, opening the clutch and finding the exact shade of lipstick she'd wanted, a few shades darker than the dress, but well coordinated.

"One of my many talents," he said.

She went into the bathroom with the clutch and closed the door before he could join her.

Doing her makeup in the bathroom mirror was surreal, with the long blonde wig. She kept the makeup subdued. Too easy with the red dress and the abundant blonde hair to slide into "tramp" zone.

She did a double-take when she opened the door. He'd put on his false beard. She stood next to him, looking into the mirror on the dresser, and said, "We look like other people."

He went over to the closet, opened up his side, and found the hat he was looking for.

Shrugging his way into a trench coat, he tossed the fedora on his head, and said, "Like a guy and his dame?" with a cheesy Brooklyn accent.

"You really need a cigar to pull that look off," she said.

"Too warm out anyway," he retorted, tossing the hat back up into the closet and shrugging out of the trench coat.

"You're wearing a tie," she commented.

"It's appropriate, given the restaurant."

"Do I pass muster?" she asked.

"If I show you just how well you pass muster," he said, "I'll smear your makeup."

"Don't tempt me," she replied.

Rick drove to the restaurant, their security detail following at a discreet distance. "Not like we're going to be drinking anyway," he said.

"Rick Castle having a nice dinner without wine?" she asked, pretending shock.

"You can't, not with your liver still healing, and I won't if you can't," he said. "So why not drive?"

"I'm touched," she said.

"Actually I'm told they have a startlingly good non alcoholic wine. You're allowed a glass."

"Isn't nonalcoholic wine a fancy name for grape juice?" she asked.

"They do something to make it more wine-y," he said. "But it's a local thing, and I'm willing to give it a shot if you are."

The restaurant was an unobtrusive little place that looked just like the surrounding houses, architecturally interesting and slightly weathered. They climbed the steps and pulled open a wood-framed screen door. The interior had a rustic look too, at odds with the dapper waiters. "Reservation for Alexander" Rick said to the hostess.

She smiled, and said, "Right this way."

They made their way back along a narrow hallway to a room with a few tables in it. There was one other couple tucked in a corner, and the hostess seated them as far from the other couple as it was possible to be and still be in the same room. The room was lined with greenery, much of it climbing wires up the walls to create an indoor canopy. Someone had woven strings of white lights through the leaves.

"Mark will be your waiter, this evening," the young woman said. "He'll be by momentarily to go over tonight's options with you."

Rick held the chair out for Kate, then helped her scoot in.

"How very gallant," she commented.

"Always, m'lady," he said with a small bow.

"Sometimes," she amended.

He put a finger to his lips. "Shhh... we're pretending that I'm suave tonight."

She gave a small laugh and rolled her eyes, then looked at the sheet of paper on the leather menu board sitting on the table in front of her.

Dinner was leisurely, Tuscan style, with antipasto at the beginning and salad at the end and two entrees in the middle that were just this side of heaven on a plate.

As Kate took a bite of three-cheese ravioli with lemon lobster cream sauce, her eyes closed with pleasure and she nearly purred. Apparently she'd made some noise, because when she finally opened her eyes, Rick was staring at her, stock still, fork paused midway to his mouth.

"You want some?" she asked.

He opened his mouth, shut it again, then said, "There are so many ways I could go with that."

"Of the pasta."

He leaned forward and she cut one of the large raviolis into a more manageable piece, made sure she had a morsel of lobster on the fork, and reached across the table to feed it to him. She managed to cover the wince as she extended her arm, but by that point it didn't matter, as his eyes had closed involuntarily and he'd moaned quietly. "That ish so gooh," he said around the bite.

"Told you," she said.

He looked down at his angel hair, and frowned. "Yours is better. I mean, this isn't bad, it's actually quite good. But that..."

The waiter apparently overheard him, and said, "If you like, I can take the angel hair back..."

Rick started to decline, but Kate said, "Do that please, otherwise he'll steal all my lobster."

"Absolutely," the waiter said. "Happens every night."

Between courses, their conversation was odd... in code, almost. Everything she really wanted to say, it being their first real date out of the house together as an official couple, wouldn't fit the married couple they were pretending to be. She found herself starting and then stopping herself over and over again.

She thought about her conversation with Martha the previous day, and laughed to herself involuntarily.

"Something to share with the class?" he asked.

She looked at him, so strange in his fake beard, considered, then glanced at the couple in the corner. "Maybe later," she said. "We could get dessert to go, eat it in the garden at home..."

He followed her gaze, and said, "Anything you want, dear."

"Anything?" she asked.

"Within the bounds of legal and ethical behavior."

"Not moral behavior?" she said, amused.

"Well, you know me," he said. "I love me some immoral behavior, but I'm all about ethics."

She grinned. "Fair enough."

He seemed to have a little difficulty with the salad, when it came. After the third bite landed on his tie, he put down his fork and sighed.

"Having an eating problem, sweetie?" she said, taking a sip of water.

"It's stiffer than it usually is."

She barely managed not to spit her water onto the table. "And that's a problem?"

He gave a gentle tug at the false beard. "My lip," he said. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

He managed, with care, to finish his salad, and a few minutes later, the waiter brought over a dessert tray, loaded with eight different confectionery constructions.

Barely glancing at the tray, Rick said, "We'll take one of each, but to go."

"Excellent choice, will you be wanting your check?" Mark-the-waiter looked amused.

"Yes, please," Kate said.

The sky was still quite light as they drove home, and as soon as he'd parked the car, Rick found the edge of the false beard and rolled it off. Kate took off the wig, and said, "I'd rather be us going out on a date than someone else."

"Yeah," he said. "Hopefully it won't be too much longer. Dessert?"

She nodded, flipped down the visor and used the mirror to tidy her hair as she finger combed out the braids.

Rick took the box from the back seat of the car, and carried it over to the little table under the large arbor that covered a good portion of the yard.

Opening the box, he arranged the desserts on the table, then hurried inside to find forks and plates.

Kate walked slowly from the garage, a little tired, but otherwise still feeling quite good compared to the previous few days.

He looked up, and the sight of her, brown hair, no wig, in that red, red dress... He dropped the forks on the table and walked over to her, and without ceremony swept her into a deep kiss.

When he finally let her go a minute later, she smiled. "What was that for?"

"You," he said. "Just... you."

She grinned, and said, "Is there chocolate?"

"Is there chocolate, the lady asks," he said, rolling his eyes. "We've got tiramisu. We've got mousse. We've got eclair. We've got chocolate mocha toffee cake. And chocolate banana cream pie. And a couple of things that look spectacular, but I haven't managed to identify them yet."

"Chocolate mocha toffee cake?" she said.

"As you wish," he answered, with a bow and a gesture in the direction of the table. She took his arm and let him help her into the chair.

He picked up the chocolate banana cream pie and took a bite, swallowed, and then said, "So spill. What made you laugh back at the restaurant?"

She took a bite of the rich coffee-flavored cake, and chewed slowly, savoring it. "You know," she said, when she'd finally swallowed her first bite, "This is like all the best things about you getting me coffee and a bear claw, in a cake."

"And you dodged the question," he said.

She waited until he had another bite of banana pie in his mouth, and then, with a twinkle in her eye, said, "It was just a conversation Martha and I had last night. She thinks I should ask you to marry me."

His coughing fit lasted a good three minutes. Kate, amused, but not too concerned, pulled a napkin from the box and daintily removed the few bits of pie crust that had landed on her skirt due to his sputtering.

When he was finally breathing almost normally again, and had managed to regain some fragment of composure, he said in a slightly strangled voice, "And what did you tell her when she made that... suggestion?"

"I told her that I wouldn't want to steal your thunder," she said. "And that I thought you were probably waiting until I was feeling better, or until the case was solved, or until we were back in New York."

He coughed again.

"You need some water there?" she asked.

"I'm going to kill her," he said.

Kate laughed. "I'm a cop. No threats."

"Mother was meddling."

"She said she was worried it would take you another three years to find the perfect 'moment.'" Kate took another bite of cake.

"I'd marry you tomorrow if you wanted me to," he said.

Kate managed to avoid inhaling the cake, barely. Now his eyes were twinkling with amusement. She scolded him silently with her fork as she fought to swallow.

"Turnabout is fair play, my dear detective," he said.

"Not tomorrow," she said.

"But..."

She flushed. "I'm still so far from well, from me..." she said quietly. "And it's still so much up in the air."

"I'm pretty sure these things are generally supposed to be 'in sickness and in health'," he said. "Would it be a terrible thing for me to want you even when you're not at the top of your game? You know I'm in this for the long haul. I don't need to see if you get all the way better or not to know that what I want is you, Katherine Beckett, however and whenever you'll have me."

"I'm not worried about you. But we haven't even..." she looked off to the side.

"Made love? Had actual tab A slot B sexual intercourse? Are you worried?" he asked. "Because while I won't deny the appeal, that's not what I'm in it for either."

"I'm not worried," she said. "You've made it clear that I have nothing to be concerned about in that department. And I'm tired of basing all my relationships on falling into bed."

"Do you want to marry me, Kate Beckett?" he asked.

"Are you asking?" she said quietly.

"No," he said. "If I was asking, I'd do this."

He reached into his suit jacket's breast pocket, and pulled out a small box, and her eyes widened.

"And then I'd do this," he said, and went down on one knee on the patio in front of her, then opened the box and took out the ring, setting the box next to the desserts on the table.

"Kate, I love you. And I've thought about the words I'd use to ask you, thought about all the things I could say, and the flowerier they got, the less adequate they seemed. So yes, I'm asking, and I'm just going to say it. Will you marry me?"

Words failed her, and she just nodded. He slipped the fake wedding ring off her hand, and slipped on an antique diamond ring, white metal, with a low set array of diamonds in an intricate setting. She stared at it for a long moment, and then looked at him. He reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. "Your eyes are leaking," he said.

She finally managed to reclaim control of her tongue and said, "I think you knelt on a banana slice. And I love you. And yes, I'll marry you."

He stared at her for a long moment, and then grinned and she started laughing. She handed him a napkin, and he brushed the banana off his knee, then stood up, pulling her up to her feet.

She glanced at the house, and blinked. "Rick, I think we have an audience."

At the French doors that led from the therapy room, most of their household could be seen, watching them. Kevin gave a grin and a big thumbs up through the window, and Lanie, on seeing that they'd been caught, opened the door. Kate held up her hand to display the ring, and Alexis came running out of the house to throw her arms around the both of them.

Rick called over to the others, "I have dessert, but you're going to need forks."

Martha came over at a more sedate pace, and as the others bustled around for congratulations and chocolate, Kate pulled her aside and said quietly, "Thank you for your advice last night."

"It looked like he asked you," Martha said. "From what I saw, which wasn't all of it."

"He asked me, but you provided a nudge. What clued you guys in?" Kate asked.

"Alexis was in the kitchen, and she sent out an all points text telling us to come downstairs," Martha said.

"He had the ring in his pocket," Kate said.

"He's had that ring in his pocket since we left New York," Martha said. "It was my mother's."

"It's stunning," Kate said.

"Art deco platinum and diamonds in a hand-carved setting." Martha said. "It's not going to catch on things the way a princess cut would."

"I love it," Kate said, staring at her hand. "Thank you for passing it along."

"You're the first woman he's been with that I'd want to have that," Martha said. "Welcome to the family."

Kate bit her lip and leaned forward to give Martha a hug.

"Mother, I suppose I should lecture you about meddling," Rick said, as they separated.

"Me? Meddle? I don't meddle. I just nudge," Martha said.

"But as I was going to say," Rick continued, "I think this time I'll just let it go."

"Let it go, he says," Martha said, rolling her eyes and accepting a hug from him. "I did you a favor, kiddo."

"I nearly died choking on a piece of banana cream pie," he said. "But as the outcome was favorable, I... Thank you." The last he whispered into his mother's ear, and she gave Kate a knowing wink around her son's shoulder.

Kate laughed, savoring the moment, and the fact that laughing didn't hurt, and that something, finally, felt real.

The tremendous bustle faded, finally, as the household scattered to their respective corners, an hour later. The sun was finally down, and Rick and Kate were sitting on the sectional in the living room when they finally realized they were alone. His eyes were dancing as he looked at her, and they both started to speak at once, and then stopped, laughing. She said into the quiet of the lamplit room, "I'm going to marry you."

"Yep," he said.

She looked down at the ring. "That's so..."

"Romantic?" he supplied. "Wonderful? Magnificent?"

She chuckled. "I was actually going to say, 'strange'."

"I'm trying not to let my feelings get hurt," he said lightly. "Why would marrying me be strange?"

"It's not marrying you that's strange," she said. "If it was ever going to be anyone... It's marrying, period. The idea of being someone's wife. Having a husband."

"I'm looking forward to being your husband," he said.

"I'm not sure I know how to be someone's wife," she replied.

"Be you," he said. "We'll figure the rest out together."

"How will it even work?"

"Well, we'll get a license..." he started.

"Not the getting married," she said. "Bridesmaid, remember? I know how that bit works. You and me, being married."

"We'll live together. At my loft, if you want, eventually. If you want us to get a new place that we pick together, that's fine too."

"You'd give up your loft for me?" she asked. "You love your loft."

"I want you to be comfortable," he said. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm willing to go to not inconsiderable expense to make you comfortable, and that was before I knew you'd say yes. I like my loft. You, I love."

She gave him a sly smile and said, "I actually like your loft too."

That got a grin.

Then she sighed. "I don't even know if I'm going back," she said. "To the force."

"That's totally up to you," he said. "Work. Or don't. If you want to find something else to do with your time, you'll have the freedom to figure out what that means to you."

"I don't want to just mooch," she said.

"Can we agree not to have that particular conversation again?" he said. "The one where you don't want to spend my money, then I tell you how you inspire me and that you've earned it? You've worked harder than anyone I've ever met, and you deserve everything I can give you, and you're not going to persuade me that you don't."

She stared at him, her mouth working strangely, then she finally laughed. "Okay, we'll consider that conversation had."

Then her eyes widened. "Do you expect me to change my name? Do you want me to be Kate Castle?"

He laughed. "Castle is something I made up to sound like an author. I feel like it would make more sense if I asked you if you wanted me to be Richard Beckett." Her expression was so peculiar that he added, "If you actively WANT to be Kate Castle, I can work with that."

"You'd change your name..." she said, finally, her voice quiet.

"I've done it before," he said. "Not getting married, but I'm not... attached. It's not like it belonged to my father. Yours has history."

"You'd give up being Richard Castle?" she asked again.

"I'd keep it for writing," he said. "No point in losing the brand. But the past few years with you, I've been more than just my name, and I find I like that. Not to mention that there are advantages to being able to go by a name that is less famous. And that your dad is the closest I'll ever get to a father figure."

"You've known him for weeks," she said.

"And I've known you for years," he answered, "And between the two of you, it's a family name I'd be honored to share."

"Alexis..." she said.

"May or may not keep her name more than another few years. Or she might join me in changing hers. Or she may keep it as is. Given how little we've seen of her around the house since she cut her hair, I think she's reveling in not having a well-known author's made-up last name." At that last, he sounded almost sad.

"She loves you," Kate said. "It's just been hard for her, I think."

"She was happy for us tonight," he said. "I'm glad."

"I keep wondering when the other shoe is going to fall," Kate said. "In her shoes, I'd have a hard time not being angry about a lot of things."

"She's very good at finding the positives," Rick said.

"No one's that good. There's good at finding positives and then there's burying feelings so deep..."

"Is that what you have to do?" he asked, and then faltered, clearly regretting the words the moment they'd left his mouth.

She looked down and shrugged. "Whatever it takes."

"I didn't mean..." he started, but she put up a hand.

"No, I know I do it. You've seen more than most," she said. "I'm not easy..."

"No," he agreed, and she shot an odd look his way. "But worth it."

She laughed, and said, "And that's the primary reason I'm not as scared as I think I should be."

"Oh?" he asked. "Scared of..."

"Of saying yes. When it comes down to it, you keep catching me, over and over again, and you make me smile and make me feel like it's all possible."

He was silent, just watching her.

"So I'm curious about one thing, Rick," she said.

"Ask away," he answered.

"Did you plan on proposing tonight?"

He laughed. "Nope."

"Your mom said you've had that ring for a while."

He nodded. "Biding my time," he said. "I actually thought it would be later, if we got the case solved...but I kept the ring on me because I knew the moment might present itself, and I wasn't about to miss another moment with you."

She blushed, and glanced down at her hand, where the little diamonds sparkled in the lamplight. "I'm glad you didn't wait," she said quietly.

"In a hurry?" he asked, teasing.

She shook her head. "There's something profoundly... reassuring isn't quite the right word. Affirming? I'm not sure. Knowing that you can look at our situation, our lives uprooted, me injured, not knowing what's going to happen in the next day let along the next year... even though we're not freakin' allowed to have sex, and all the other usual things couples do building up to a decision like that... and look at me and want forever... And you waited for me, months, longer, while I buried my head in the sand... It feels solid and safe, and home."

He kissed her then, soft and sweet, then pulled her closer. "You've seen me at my worst," he said. "You let me drive you up a wall and down again, turn your life inside out, and you inspire me more than anyone I've ever known. And besides. You know comic books and cult movies, and have a staggering command of the English language. How could I not want forever with you?"

"Don't forget," she said, poking him gently on the chest. "I'm tall, too."

"And you're tall," he said. "So, not tomorrow... next week?"

She laughed against him, shaking her head. "Let's see how things shake out the next few days with your big revelations upstairs. Then you can ask me again. Ideally, I'd like to marry you when we're not actually in hiding. And I might need time to get used to the idea."

"Fair enough. Have you seriously never clipped a wedding dress out of a bridal magazine?" he asked.

"I was adamantly against the whole concept of marriage from about age fifteen until my early twenties," she said. "And around the time I started to think it might not be such a bad idea someday, I realized that every time I went dress shopping with friends and their mothers, the whole notion of planning a big wedding without my mother there..."

He stroked her back, understanding, and after a moment said, "We'll do whatever you want to do. I've jumped the hoops and done the big and stupid, and the wild and wacky, and all I know is that I want to be married to you in whatever way will make you happiest."

"I want simple," she said. "Quiet. The people we're closest to..."

"The ones in this house?" he supplied. "Anyone else?"

She thought about it for a long moment. "There are others I could invite, but no one I feel like I need to invite." A yawn escaped her, and he chuckled.

"Sleep?" he asked.

She nodded, and he stood, helping her up.

A little while later, getting ready for bed, she slipped off her necklace and her watch, and looked at the ring on her hand, and left it on.

She woke before Rick. Over the weeks, she'd developed a habit, a kind of self-inventory, muscles, wound, energy, before she even opened her eyes. Things felt... surprisingly good. She wondered if she'd ever get back to the point of just waking up and getting out of bed without testing first to see if everything worked, but this morning, for once, nothing hurt at more than a dull ache, and when she finally opened her eyes in the dim morning, she smiled.

Outside the window, she could see scraps of white sky, the ubiquitous morning fog, sharp against the dim green and shadow of the trees. Their room was on the southwest corner of the house, and while in the evening it sometimes glowed for hours with golden late-afternoon sun, gone was the sunbeam wake up they'd had in the downstairs bedroom on the opposite side of the house. Easier that way, anyway.

She sat up gingerly, and Rick rolled away from her. She froze for a long moment, waiting, but he slept on. She smiled, and quietly shifted her feet off the edge of the bed.

She chose her clothing for ease, marshaling her resources for the rest of the day. He'd said he'd carry her up, but oh, she wanted to earn it. She slipped on her mother's ring, and her father's watch, and slid her burner phone into a pocket, all the while stealing glances at his sleeping form on the bed.

She resisted the temptation to touch him, or even stare at him too long. When she stepped into the soft house flats she'd taken to wearing, she took one last look, checking to confirm that his phone was, indeed, on the nightstand next to his head.

And with that, she crept out of the room, moving past Lanie and Javier's bedroom, blessedly quiet this morning, and over to the stairs to the third floor.

She took a moment to stretch a little, trying not to think too hard about how ridiculous it felt to be warming up for a simple walk up the stairs, but her bouts of soreness after new tasks had hammered that lesson home the hard way. She could almost hear Amy's voice saying, "But Kate, it is a marathon, for you, right now."

Then she put a hand on the rail, and took the first step, and the second. She knew now why old people climbed one stair at a time, step, bring the foot up, step again. It felt more doable if one only had to tackle one step at a time. But she also knew from the previous days' practice that it was actually more tiring to climb that way, and she forced herself to take it more normally, one foot per stair. But it didn't stop her from holding onto the railing with a death grip, and she was grateful for the landing halfway up. Another padded bench, much like the one between the first and second floors, and she knew he'd planned for her to be able to take breaks climbing.

She leaned her head back against the wall and just breathed, pacing herself. Another lesson learned the hard way. Amy's voice again in her head, saying, "Small breaks, catch your breath, let your muscles recover, but not long enough to lose your momentum."

She forced herself up, looked at that last flight up, and put a hand out on the railing. Slower this time. She could feel the shreds of fatigue around the edges, frustrating for so early in the day, but she didn't usually start her day out by climbing stairs before breakfast, either. Not anymore. She spared one wistful, self-pitying thought, remembering how ridiculously easy this would have been a couple of months prior, but then put her foot up, and then the other, and focusing all of her attention on moving her feet forward, she was a little surprised when the ubiquitous wood grain of the stairs gave way to the short, grey berber of the top floor. She stood at the top of the stairs for a long moment, staring at that grey carpet, and then pulled out her phone and sank gratefully onto a small chair in the corner of the landing at the top of the stairs.

I made it up here, she sent. Where's my prize?

She suppressed a laugh when she heard a bit of a clatter down below, followed by a shirtless, pajama-clad Rick stumbling his way up the stairs.

She smirked at him. His mouth gaped like a fish for a long moment, and his brows knit together, and he started to say something, stopped, started again, then held up a finger and said quietly, "One minute." But he didn't move.

She looked at her watch and then back at him pointedly.

"Right," he said, and stumbled back down the stairs.

Seventy three seconds later, he reappeared, not his usual polished self, but no longer looking like he'd fallen out of bed. "You sure you don't want to wait for breakfast?" he asked.

"I'm hoping someone will bring it up here," she said. "Not sure if I can get back up here once I'm down on the ground floor. But I want to see that room, and I'm not quite sure which door..." The space they were in was uniquely windowless, and quite unlike any space she'd seen in the house before. She could see three doors and an open archway leading to another small, windowless room, and a couple more doors beyond that.

"Right," he said. "Tour." He pointed. "Our resident computer tech stays in a bonus room over there, and Ash's room is there, and those double doors you can see belong to Ryan and Jenny. The door to your left is just storage, and the door over there is the bathroom for the entire floor.

"We've got four bathrooms on the middle floor, there's only one up here?" she asked.

He shrugged. "If we were going to spend a few years here, I'd probably have another bath put in. Or two. But those double doors right next to you?" She looked over to her right, at the wall her chair was backed against. He continued. "Those are the war room. Do you want to come in?"

She nodded, and he put out his hand to help her up.

He leaned over and put his hand on the door knob and then said, "Oh, but you need to know about our house mouse... The computer tech, Renny, she doesn't talk, and she doesn't like eye contact. When I need to communicate, I text. She's in your phone, under RJ."

Kate looked slightly nonplussed, and then with a quick tilt of acknowledgment, said, "Quit stalling, Castle."

He shot her a look, saw the slight teasing in her eye, and grinned, then opened the door.

The room beyond was dark, lit mostly by computer screens and an anemic scrap of daylight from a faceted window high on the opposite wall.

"It's huge," Kate breathed.

The open space in front of them was not much bigger than their enormous bedroom one floor below, but two of the walls were lined with open doors, into which were tucked computer stations, leaving most of the floor space clear. The high, vaulted ceiling was crisscrossed by beams, and the far wall was covered with electronic smartboards. Tucked into one of the six little cubbies along the walls she could see the short, curly hair of the FBI's computer tech, who spared a glance in their direction and then returned to her screens.

Information danced across the smart boards, some of it static, some of it moving faster than Kate's eye could follow. She stepped forward, but Rick gave a small cough and said, "Turn around."

She did, and then gasped. A twelve-foot stretch of wall between the double doors they'd entered and another door had been painted over with glossy whiteboard paint, with a series of spotlights making the wall the brightest place in the room. A twenty-year timeline stretched from one door to the other, filled in with more pictures and data than she'd ever seen for a single case. Familiar faces looked back at her from 8x10 color photos. Her mother. Roy. McCallister. Raglan. Bob Armand. Hal Lockwood. Coonan... more. Every face she'd ever associated with her mother's murder. And some that were not so familiar.

She started to move toward one of them, but his hand on her arm stopped her, and he said. "Best let me set the stage." He tapped a button on his phone, and said, "The boys should be here, though."

She nodded, and took a step back from the vast murder board. He walked over to the corner of the room, and pulled out a familiar-looking leather chair. He slid it across the carpet until it was in the middle of the room, pointed at the smartboards that lined the far wall. "Sit, please," he said, nodding in the direction of the chair.

She did, reflexively raising the foot of the leather recliner. "Need one of these at the precinct," she said.

He chuckled, but it was a tight, almost nervous sound.

They waited in silence. Kate felt an odd calm wash over her, and resisted the urge to turn around, to dive into the murder board behind her. Castle was texting rapidly, and she watched his face, intent, focused. At random, the thought floated through her head, This is the man I'm going to marry. Her eyes fell back to the ring on her finger, and she turned her hand until the ring sparkled in the dim light. She let her eyes wander upward, and noted curiously line after line of tract lighting on the ceiling.

Rick's fingers stilled for a moment, and she said, "I'm surprised you haven't turned some lights on in here... it's so dark."

"Renny doesn't like them," Rick said. "And given her skill... I'm happy to humor her."

"Just curious," Kate said.

Then the door opened, and a slightly sleepy looking Kevin Ryan poked his head in, then the rest of him followed. "Jenny's getting us some breakfast," he said, fighting a yawn. "And coffee."

"Good" Rick said, without looking up from his phone.

A few minutes later, Javier walked in.

"How's Lanie?" Kate asked, before he was even all the way in the room.

"Queasy but not throwing up," Javier said. "Had to get her a snack. She'll be up to do your meds and testing in a half hour," Javier said, and then walked over to one of the closet computer stations and sat down. Kevin pulled up a chair behind him, leaning on the closet door as he watched his partner's fingers fly across the keyboard.

Kate looked up at Rick expectantly, then frowned as he showed no signs of starting. "The boys are here," she said, pointedly.

"Five more minutes," Rick said, still not looking away from the screen in front of him. "Jordan's coming."

"She's five minutes away?" Kate asked.

"She moved her family to the other safehouse, down the block," Javier said. "This weekend. Because..." He hesitated, then looked at Rick, and then said, "You'll understand when you see."

Kate sighed, trying to reclaim the calm she'd felt a few minutes prior, then said, "Should my dad be here?"

Rick looked up, and a look passed between him and the two detectives. Kevin shrugged, and Javier finally said, "Your call, boss."

That set Kate back on her heels for a moment, as it was clearly addressed to Rick. She felt another shred of composure slip away.

Rick looked down at her, and said, "I think... I think you better hear it out, then decide how you want to tell him."

She took a breath, pressed her lips together, and then nodded.

The room was quiet, only the faintest clicking of fingers on keyboards punctuating the silence. Kate felt more than heard the percussion of the front door opening and closing, the rapid, dull sound of feet on the wooden stairs. Finally the door opened, and Jordan Shaw walked into the room.

"Did you start yet?" she asked, not appearing at all winded from her rapid climb up the stairs.

Kate had a momentary flash of irrational jealousy at the idea of climbing two flights of stairs without effort, then squashed it back down, remembering, She was hurt once, worse than this. The thought was surprisingly comforting.

Rick looked up, finally, and said, "We were waiting for you."

"Don't keep her waiting," Jordan said. "She earned it, and I think we need her."

"Hit it, bro," Rick said to Javier, who nodded. A series of small images popped up at the base of one of the smartboards, and Rick walked over.

He tapped an image and it sprang up to fill the next smartboard over with the faces of Pulgatti, Vulcan Simmons, and Bob Armand.

"Twenty years ago, the FBI sent an undercover agent in to infiltrate a mob family," Rick said. "Bob Armand. Who was killed, 9 months into that assignment, when one of the members of that family was nearly kidnapped, as you know, by three off-duty cops. Around the same time, Vulcan Simmons was becoming quite the name in the New York drug trade."

"Give me something new," Kate said.

"They were connected," Rick said.

Kate blinked. "How?"

"We need to go back to 1989," Rick said. "Afghanistan." He tapped another image, and the next smartboard filled with a map. "And the fall of the Soviet Union. The US was heavily involved in black ops there, but when the USSR fell and the Soviets withdrew, the US pulled out too. Well, most of them."

"Most?"

"A few opportunists stayed, gone native, as it were, and they saw potential profit, so they did what they did best, and nudged the locals in the direction they wanted them to go. Opium poppies. One of those men was named John Armand."

"Related?" Kate asked.

"Bob Armand's younger brother. Bit of a black sheep. As far as we can tell, he stayed in Afghanistan from 1989 until his brother was killed in 1991, and then he came home." He stopped, and walked back over to the first board, and tapped the first image in the list. It popped up above the smaller images, an older picture of a man in his early 30's, with hard eyes and dark hair.

"Tell me the story, Castle," Kate said.

He looked at her, then nodded.

"John Armand. We don't know a lot about what he did in Afghanistan, but we can guess. CIA—and don't mock, Kate, that's actually the most likely scenario for once—or some other government agency. All we know is that when his brother was killed, he showed up in New York and joined the NYPD." Castle tapped an image, and it enlarged. "He graduated the academy and worked the streets for a couple of years, then walked off the job in 1996, to form a private security company."

Kate frowned. "So he came back to the states... and joined the force, why?"

"Well, one might assume he wanted to figure out what really happened to his brother, find revenge, the usual, but the man seems to have a real knack for multitasking. I think he joined the force to find dirty cops to help get his drugs into the country without hassle... and stumbled across his brother's case and figured out the real story from there. And it turns out that while he wasn't all that fond of his brother, he was very fond of opportunities."

"So he blackmailed the three..." Kate filled in.

"And used the profits to start his company, while simultaneously networking inside the force, inside the New York drug trade, and the military. He changed his name after leaving the force."

"What is his name now?" Kate asked.

"John Ladon," Rick said.

"Ladon..." Kate said. "Why is that familiar?"

"One of two things, most likely," Rick said. "The name Ladon comes from mythology, the hundred-headed dragon guarding the golden apples."

"Hercules defeated it..." Kate supplied.

"Exactly. But you've heard it more recently, as the name of the company he founded. Ladon Securities."

"Aren't they one of the biggest private contractors for the military in..." she started.

"Afghanistan," he finished. "And Iraq before that. You see where this is going."

Kate stared at the face for a long time, gears turning in her head, something trying to connect, but slipping away. "So he gets employees from the military..."

"They join his company because the pay is better, with fewer rules. But his top people, we think his relationship with them is even closer, that they were actually on ops together at one point. The level of loyalty we've seen..."

Jordan stepped a little closer and said, "What really creates the difficulty for us is that the man is the head of a not-insignificant private army. He rarely leaves his compound in New York, and a huge part of their legitimate domestic business is consulting and installing equipment for private corporations to thwart industrial espionage and theft."

"Legitimate..." Kate caught the word. "And what kinds of less legitimate business is he into? Drugs?"

Esposito turned around in his chair and started. "Drugs... we think he's supplying our friend Vulcan. But just about any major smuggling operation you can think of, he's probably got his fingers in the pie."

Ryan continued, "Yeah, he really took the whole 'Diversify, diversify, diversify,' advice to heart. They've got access and supply channels we've managed to tie back to a whole variety of weapons smuggling, worldwide. It wouldn't surprise me to find out his people had something to do with that diamond-smuggling thing..."

"The biggest barrier is that we need a warrant, and it is clear from the results of past investigations," Jordan said, "that whenever an investigator gets close, they get shut down."

Something clicked into place for Kate. "Afghanistan. Tell me, does his company have any involvement with the banks there?"

She could see the entire change purse drop for Castle. He stared at her, gaping like a fish for a moment.

A computerized voice came Renny's cupboard, a bland, female, synthesized voice. "Yes. There are thirteen shell corporations between Ladon Industries and the International Limited, a privately held bank with several offices in Afghanistan."

"Hey, wasn't that the bank that sent money to Alhabi?" Ryan said, finally catching up.

"Is it possible?" Kate asked Rick.

"I'm a little lost, would someone please unpack this for me?" Jordan said mildly.

"We never did find out who actually sent the money," Rick said.

"Or imported the radioactives. That had to be an expensive operation and we never looked for anyone beyond those three..." Kate continued.

Jordan coughed, and Castle turned to her. "How much do you know about the dirty bomb that almost went off in New York City a few months back?" he asked.

She blinked, her eyes widened, and then she smiled. "Tell me, you two, do you have friends in Homeland Security right now?"

Kate nodded, as Rick pulled out his wallet and handed Jordan a business card.

"I know him," Jordan said.

Kate frowned, suddenly registering something. "I thought Renny didn't parse speech."

The computerized voice emerged again. "When necessary, I use voice-to-text, and vice verse. It is imperfect, but occasionally useful."

Kate turned and said, "Thank you for your help."

"It's my job," the voice said, bland and impersonal.

Jordan stared at the card for a long moment, and then said, "I have a phone call to make."

Esposito turned and pointed to a land line in the next cubby over. "That line is as secure and untraceable as she knows how to make it," he said, with a shoulder shrug in the direction of the computer tech on his other side."

She gave him a distracted nod and sat down in the little cubby.

"You seriously think that Ladon was also behind the dirty bomb?" Rick asked.

"Regardless of whether he was, or wasn't," Kate said, "If Homeland Security has even an inkling that he might have been, they've got a hell of a lot more chance of getting in there without broadcasting things ahead of time. They can get a sneak-and-peek or a no-knock a hell of a lot easier than even Jordan can."

"Assuming they don't try to get the warrant from a dirty judge," Rick said.

She gave that a little shrug of acknowledgment, and Rick brought her a large tablet so that she could explore the data more closely.

She was barely aware of eating a breakfast someone stuck in front of her, and absentmindedly held out her hand for Lanie to prick her finger without paying much attention even to the the fact that Lanie did not then jab her with another needle.

It was nearly lunchtime when Jordan came back over and said, "We have a plan of attack. Mark's a good guy. If this works, it may even be relatively bloodless. If it doesn't..."

"It won't be enough," Kate said, "To take down Ladon. He's one head. From what you all have put together, his deputies are frighteningly loyal. He picked his name well. We have to get all of them."

"Will getting them into the penal system be enough?" Rick asked. "If they have their fingers in that many political pies?"

"We're hoping that the storytelling you've been working on will help us there," Jordan said. "I read what you've been writing the past few days. You should try your hand at nonfiction more often."

"I couldn't make this stuff up," Rick said, sounding almost regretful.

"How refreshingly humble," Jordan said, almost laughing. "But if Mark can manage to find evidence that they've been involved in terrorist activities, we'll have a bit more leverage than we usually do."

"And if he can't?" Kate asked.

"If he can't, well, ask him," Jordan said, nodding at Rick. "I know you enjoy his writing."

"If it has to go public, the whole thing will have to go public," Rick said. "He's not going to be able to blackmail his way out of things, because we'll have completely discredited him as a source. I believe Renny over there has managed to put things in motion to put a freeze on the corporation's assets, and we have a record of just who the corporation has given money to in the past decade."

"And if he slips through our fingers?" Kate asked.

"Worst case," he said, "we stay here unless we need to run. And if we need to run, I do have a few aces up my sleeve. Rather comfortable aces," he added. "Honestly, I'd be tempted to use them anyway, because they'd be even more fun if we weren't running for our lives."

Kate smiled. "Does it involve palm trees?" she asked.

"And coconuts," he agreed. "And lovely beaches."

"Sounds like a honeymoon," Jordan said dryly. "But don't count your vacations until they're hatched."

"Wouldn't be a half-bad honeymoon at that," Kate said, with a glance up at Rick.

He smiled. "Best if we're not on the run."

"Then let's see how this plays out," Kate said. She stared back down at the tablet on her lap. "John Ladon. He ordered the hit, I assume?"

"He's at the top of the food chain," Rick said. "We're not 100% sure he ordered it personally, but he was certainly in charge of whoever did, and was almost certainly behind Lockwood. We'll get him. Letting him stay where he is... is no longer a viable option."

"It never really was," Kate said. Then she looked up at him. "I can't comprehend a future without this fight," she said. "But I can't wait to find out."