A/N - Please read and review. Thanks for how great you all are! This is so much fun.
She watched him sleep. If their roles were reversed, she'd say he was being creepy. The thought brought a smile to her lips. He was always watching her and at first, it was creepy, but now she craved his attention. She couldn't live without it, without him. Her breath caught, she almost lost him, again. She was living her fear. She opened up and gave him her heart and suddenly there were dangers threatening to take him away. Toxins, bullets and who knew what else would happen next.
Was he really in any more danger or did she just care more? She pondered as she sat on the overstuffed chair in their bedroom. No. If she was truthful with herself, she'd cared way more and for longer than she let on. He was taking more chances. His devil may care attitude more prevalent. She studied his face. The furrows usually present on his forehead were relaxed. The laugh lines around his eyes weren't visible at all. His whole face was tranquil. Her nine year old on a sugar rush wasn't rushing anywhere just now. Was he feeling more alive? Was he feeling invincible like his comic book superheroes? Invincible.
His breathing was more shallow than normal. He said he was fine, but she knew he was in pain. He didn't want her to worry. He was taking care of it. She reflected that in this, he was different. Not whiny and needy Rick when he had broken his knee. Oh! That's why he put up such a fight over the medication. He didn't want to be whiny or needy.
He was more responsible, there was lightness in his step, a carefree attitude, a definite increase in energy. He had trimmed down. He seemed to have come awake from sleepwalking. Why? Because he wasn't waiting anymore. He put everything on hold for her and he did it willingly while she got herself ready. Why, oh why, did she wait? She was so happy now. Why did she deny herself for so long?
He hummed in his sleep and then rolled over. She heard him gasp as the bruise on his chest tugged and pulled. She remembered that sensation. She ached for his hurt and knew that only time would heal it. He rolled back over onto his back. She glanced at the clock; three forty-five. It would be another two hours until he would argue with her about the pain meds again. He said he did not need them and stalwartly argued with her when they got home. Then the adrenaline wore off. He took them just before bed "because he was falling asleep anyway". It occurred to her that he didn't want to miss anything. He wanted to be present. She hadn't given him credit for understanding how close he'd come to death, twice, recently. She wiped a tear from her cheek. It was her fault. No one blamed her or even intimated that she was responsible. She bore that burden. Not his mother or his daughter, although Alexis had been more distant. She wanted to deal with that. She wasn't sure what type of relationship she would have with the girl. He was so protective of her. She couldn't blame him. He almost lost her. He would not have come back from that if Paris had ended differently. She shuddered; from the coolness of the late hour or from the memories of that dark time, she didn't know. His actions scared her. He had proven himself capable of things that were unthinkable. At least for Rick Castle, all around nice guy. He hurt somebody to rescue someone he loves. Another shudder.
The Castle who was capable of torture was so very different from the carefree playboy who wormed his way into her life five years ago. He was different from her shadow who would jump and scream (like a little girl) at a dead body falling out of a refrigerator or really, any time he was startled. Had she done that to him or, had he found that path on his own? She was always making fun of his, um, less than macho side. She smiled. She liked that side. Not too serious, able to laugh and poke fun. That side gave him his sense of style, his humor, his impeccable taste and his unending love and devotion. She sat in the dark and prayed she would never see the serious, willing to do anything side again. It had cost him.
Serious Rick. She never thought she would refer to him that way. He was much more serious about everything now then he was when they had met. Life was a big game then. Alternatively, her life was nothing but serious. She reflected how much of his personality she had adopted over the years. She did not want anything to do with him then. She had a serious job and a serious life. Over the years, they had given each other the parts that were missing. Another tear escaped. She ran her thumb across her cheek. She could never thank him enough for completing her. Life was fun now, meaningful, something to which she could look forward. She smiled as she corrected her own grammar in her thoughts. Damn, another tear. He completed her just as she completed him. She thought about that. He had grown more serious than he had been. She got the better end of that bargain.
He rolled again. He preferred to sleep on his side, not his back and he was uncomfortable. He groaned in his sleep and rolled again to his back, a grimace on his face. His breath caught as he moved. She glanced at the clock. Four-thirty. She continued her vigil.
Her thoughts meandered around from the past to the future. Kate had never spent much time wondering what would happen next. She lived, sort of, in the moment. If she was honest, she knew that she really didn't think she would have a future. Before he pushed his way into her life, she existed day to day. She had seen too much pain to put her faith in tomorrow. He made her want more. God, he had been so patient. How did he do that? He was always moving, always doing something. How did he go against his basic nature and wait for her? Why? It was going against everything that he was, his very fiber, to wait. The more she thought about it the more she realized that he was not just waiting. He was slowly, methodically breaking down her defenses, her wall. He never did anything slowly. Except her. Did he know that she would eventually come around? How could he? She didn't give him encouragement, at first. Would he always wait, hoping for the outcome he had bet on? What did he see for their future? She studied his face. Dreaming. His eyelids fluttered and every once in a while a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. Was he dreaming of their future? Romantic, fluffy Kate, she chastised herself. He was probably dreaming of laser tag, Star Wars or a comic book. While she pondered this, his expression and breathing changed. She had hoped that the painkillers and the quasi-comatose state they brought would spare him this. No longer in peaceful slumber, darkness clouded his features. There was anxiety and fear. He called out something garbled. Kate moved back to the bed. This is what she knew would come tonight. It happened each time after Tyson, after the meet the parents' dinner disaster, Paris, Vaughan, the bomb, and the toxin. She could only assume that this had been going on before they became a couple. Nightmares. Terrors really. When his fears would overcome his control and his subconscious mind took over. He started to thrash. She moved back onto the bed and began to smooth his brow, she felt the tell tale dampness. His eye movement had increased. She would do anything to spare him, but she knew that this is who he was. He cared deeply and was strong for all of them and because of the depth of his love; he paid the price in his dreams. He cried out. She held him shushing and murmuring comfort. It was several minutes of repeating this pattern before she felt him relax again. She let out the breath she had been holding and settled in next to him. He rolled onto his side again, to envelope her, but instead of comfort, the movement brought pain. He took in a sharp breath and fell back onto his back. Kate sat up to look at him. He opened his eyes and grimaced.
"Hey, are you hurting?" She asked. He growled a response. She looked at the clock, six. "What can I do for you? How can I help? Do you need a pain pill?" He was about to start the argument again, but then looked at her, her tender expression, her concern, her tired eyes.
"Have you been to sleep?"
She just shrugged. "I wasn't tired."
"Kate."
"I needed to make sure you were here and whole and alright." Her voice was small and timid at the confession.
He pulled her down into the crook of his arm. "I'm fine. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."
"You don't know that." She shuddered.
"Kate?" He moved so he could look her in the eyes. "You're right. No one is guaranteed anything. The trick is to embrace what you have for as long as you have it." He shook his head. "We've wasted so much time fearfully dipping our toes in the water when we could have been diving in, deliriously happy. I don't intend to waste any more time." He paused. "I don't mean that we should be reckless, but I can't turn away when someone needs help. Not anymore. You taught me that. Think about the possible tragic outcome for Emma and those hostages if I had taken the safe route yesterday." He absently rubbed his chest.
"Are you hurting?" Concern etched on her features.
"I'm okay." They laid there in silence as the sun came up. "You know," he began again; "I'm braver when I know you're with me." He smiled at her. "I've begun to see myself through your eyes. You see confidence where I only saw cockiness; you see love where I only saw lust."
"I still see lust sometimes, Castle." She laid her head back on his shoulder.
"My point, Kate, is that you make me a better version of myself. You make me want to make you proud. I can't, nor do I want to go back."
She snuggled closer to his chest. "I love you, Rick."
"Love you, too." He smiled and caught his breath. His dreams did come true.