This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic so I do hope you'll all be kind to me.

This is in the form of Kate Beckett's diary of events after her shooting, a diary suggested by her therapist to help her express her feelings.

Please note, I do not own any of these characters: that honour belongs to people much better than me!

Chapter 1 Knockout & Rise (Part 1)

Kate Beckett arrived home and collapsed onto the sofa. Well, she'd passed her psych. evaluation. Dr Burke thought that she was fit for duty, but was she? That still nagged at her, seeped into her thoughts every so often. Was she really ready? It had been three months since Roy Montgomery's funeral; three months since the bullet thudded into her chest; three months since her life slipped away several times on the way to and in the hospital; three months since Castle said those words. Was she really ready to go back to the precinct; ready for life to return to normal?

She picked up the notebook she'd bought on the way home. Why the hell did Dr Burke suggest this? It didn't really sound like a suggestion, mind you, more like an order.

"Try keeping a diary, Kate," he'd said.

"You say you find it difficult to vocalise your feelings, well write them down instead. Not for anyone else to read, just as an outlet. But above all, Kate, if you do this, you must be honest. You must be honest with yourself even if you can't be honest with anyone else."

That was easy for him to say. When you've spent the last twelve years shutting your true feelings away behind a wall, writing them down doesn't exactly feel like a simple thing to do. But Kate was not a coward. She didn't look for an easy way out, so here she was, notebook and pen in hand ready to start.

"Where the hell do I begin?" she thought to herself,

"Well, one thing's for sure, I'm not starting with 'Dear Diary', makes me sound like a high school kid!" and she allowed herself a smile at that.

"Okay, here goes nothing!"

I guess I need to start this at Roy's funeral. We met up at the 12th, Espo, Ryan, Castle & me. Three of us in our dress uniforms, Castle in a very smart suit. God he looked good. I can't help it, I'm being honest here, getting the feelings out, so it may have been a funeral, but the guy looked amazing! At the cemetery, the four of us were among the pall bearers and that walk, carrying Roy's casket, had to be one of the hardest things I've had to do for many years, well, twelve to be precise. It brought back so many memories. Memories of Roy, my mentor, my defender on many occasions but above all else, my friend but also memories of my mother and her funeral, another well-attended event, where I held my dad's hand and stared resolutely into the distance, focusing on anything and everything except the coffin and the grave. My dad was at Roy's funeral, too. He'd met him on many occasions and I knew he was mourning a friend but I also knew he was there for my sake, to support me as best he could and I appreciated it so much. I guess I should tell him that!

Evelyn Montgomery had asked me to say a few words. As I stood at the podium, Castle was nearby, close enough to show me his support but just far enough away as not to be a distraction. As I recalled Roy's words about being fortunate enough to have someone to stand with you, I glanced across at Castle and saw, in his eyes, his acknowledgement that he intended to be just that for me and I was grateful.

That was when all hell broke loose.

I was aware of Castle shouting something and wondered what on earth he was doing in the middle of my eulogy. Then I was on the floor, Castle nearly on top of me and I think it was only at that point that I suddenly became aware that my chest was on fire. I was in so much pain and had absolutely no idea why. Castle was cradling my head and pleading with me not to leave him, so much emotion in his eyes. I tried so hard to tell him I had no intention of going anywhere but it was getting harder and harder to focus, harder to concentrate. Then he said it:

"I love you. I love you, Kate"

I think I'd known for a while that he cared very deeply for me, but this was Richard Castle, playboy of the western world and although there'd been more and more occasions recently when I'd been seriously tempted to find out, I'd always held back; well, except for that time in LA when I had given in, but the universe obviously had other ideas!

If you're going to die, I guess there are worse last words to hear and as I drifted in and out of consciousness, I tried desperately to use his words as a sort of lifeline but I knew I was weakening and it all just became too hard; giving in seemed so much easier.

After that, apart from a few flashes, everything is pretty much a blank until I was in a hospital bed aware of a hand holding mine, a voice speaking very quietly but urging me to wake up. I'm sure I must have tried to speak but it's probably as well I didn't because I'm sure my first word would have been, "Castle" and, as the person holding my hand turned out to be Josh, maybe the universe was working in my favour for once!

Over the next few days, as I recovered from the surgery, my dad was the only visitor I was allowed, apart from Josh, of course, but as he was a surgeon at the hospital, I suppose he took advantage of that privileged position. Finally, I was told I could have other visitors and I begged my dad to call Castle. I had no idea what I was going to say to him, no idea what my reaction would be when I saw him. I just needed him there, needed to see him. Josh was sitting talking to me about something and nothing, I don't think I was listening, to be honest (wow, I really am being honest here!) when the door opened and that familiar, ruggedly handsome face appeared. He looked unusually unsure, hesitant even as Josh stood, gave me a peck on the forehead and said he'd be back after rounds. I wasn't too sure what the look that passed between them at the door was all about but it certainly didn't look friendly, although I suppose that shouldn't surprise me, Josh had always been wary of my relationship with Castle, a little jealous even, though I'd told him time and time again that we were just partners but who was I trying to kid, I knew that our relationship was far more complicated than that.

Castle stood there staring at me, carrying an enormous bouquet of flowers. The look on his face was so intense, I thought I must look at death's door, which of course I had been only a few days earlier, but I had thought my look had improved a bit since he'd last seen me. Well, maybe not. He put the flowers on the side with all the other arrangements, mostly from colleagues and friends at the 12th and I tried to joke about never being able to live this down, tried to get back to the banter usually so easy between us but at the look on his face, so much care, so much devotion, suddenly I ran scared, I know I did. I did what I always do when things get emotional, tried to hide behind my wall and I lied:

"I hear you tried to save me."

He didn't catch my meaning immediately but it didn't take long and I could see the sadness suddenly appear in his wonderful, blue eyes and he looked as though he'd been punched in the gut.

"You heard? You don't remember me tackling you?"

Now I'd started down that path, I had no choice but to carry on. I convinced myself it was for the best, that I wasn't able to deal with my feelings right now, but it didn't make it any easier, didn't make it any more right. At his next words, I forced myself to look him straight in the eye, almost challenging him to say it again,

"So you don't remember m..." he paused, but then continued with,

"...the gunshot?" I could almost see his heart breaking in front of my eyes but I was too far along the road to turn back now.

"They say there are some things that are better not being remembered."

By saying that, I thought maybe I could give him a way out; an option to pretend the words were never spoken, but I knew I'd never forget. I never wanted to forget. Richard Castle loved me. Why couldn't I just accept it and deal with it, but I'd crossed the bridge now. Maybe I'll be able to tell him the truth one day, who knows?

I told him a little more about my dreams, nightmares rather; the hanger, Roy's death, my not being able to save him. I could see Castle wanted to say more but I couldn't face anything else and, as I was stuck in the hospital bed so running away wasn't an option, I found the only escape I could, a plea of tiredness. Well I was pretty tired but it made for a great excuse. God, I sound so pitiful when I'm putting it in writing like this!

Then I committed my second major snafu. I pushed him away. Told him I'd call.

That was all three months ago.

I've never called.

Kate put the notebook down. She hadn't been aware of it, but she'd been crying as she was writing and now she'd stopped, she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand and tried to compose herself. Was this such a good idea? Actually, maybe it was. She did feel a little better, a little less weighed down. She looked at her watch, amazed to discover just how late it was. She'd been at this for hours and was due back at the precinct tomorrow morning.

Kate locked the notebook away in the drawer of her desk, turned out the light and headed to her bedroom. Tomorrow was a new day, maybe even the start of a second chance for her; maybe a chance to start undoing some of her long catalogue of errors.