Summary: She's letting it go. Slowly but surely she's moving on, because she refuses to allow the darkness of her past to cloud her future. Their future. Spoilers for Always. Follows Wake To The Light.

Author's Note: Some of you probably read my one-shot Wake to the Light...if not you might want to, since this will make more sense if you do. It's a quick read, I promise. And since I had multiple people ask me to continue with it, here's the sequel!

Disclaimer: Most of the Castle crew is traveling the world right now. I'm sitting in my living room wishing it would stop raining.

Every New Day

Chapter 1

"Kate?"

"Hmmm?"

She sleepily snuggles up against him, melding herself further into his warmth. Castle's arms automatically tighten around her, holding her there, keeping her close. Her confession this morning led to round four, which was the gentlest so far as Castle took great care to avoid the marks of her fight the previous day. And while wild and fast was amazing last night, slow and exploratory is equally as wonderful.

Now they are curled up together in the aftermath, tired and sated and so comfortable that neither ever wants to leave his bed. However, Alexis is due to return from her all-nighter in about an hour and a half and Castle had promised to have breakfast waiting for her upon arrival.

"Kate," he calls again, combing a hand through her hair and cupping the back of her head.

"Hmmm?"

"I need to get up."

"You just were," she shoots back sleepily, a pleased grin on her face.

Castle gives her side a playful squeeze, unable to suppress a laugh. "I love the way your mind works. But really, I need to get up. Alexis will be home soon and as much as I never want to leave this room, I need to go make breakfast."

"Okay." Kate sits up slowly, ignoring the protests of her body. The sheet falls down around her waist and it takes all of two seconds for Castle's eyes to find the exposed skin, settle there. Kate unconsciously folds in on herself, not used to having someone openly peruse her body. Not recently anyways, and certainly not since her shooting, since her scars.

He has seen it all already of course, between his fingers and his lips he has probably touched every inch of her. But not in the light of day.

Castle climbs out of bed, completely unaffected by his nakedness...not like that surprises her...and offers his hand to Kate. She slips her legs out from beneath the blankets and shyly takes the proffered hand, allows him to pull her to her feet. The moment she is steady he wraps her in his embrace, comforting, not arousing, just enjoying the feel of her body so close to his, her skin against his own. She silently buries her head in his neck, breathing him in, his scent mixed with hers after a night in each other's arms.

They stay there for a long moment, unmoving, just the sounds of their breaths filling the silence. Reveling in their togetherness.

"Shower," she murmurs eventually, pushing lightly on his shoulders. He steps back but does not relinquish his grip on her, brings her with him.

"Come with me."

"I just did."

Castle is not sure what is making him happier right now; that Kate is naked in his arms or that she is so happy and comfortable with him that she is throwing out the innuendos right and left this morning. He presses a smacking kiss to her cheek as he continues to guide her through to the bathroom, bodies still pressed together as they attempt to walk in unison without stepping on each other. Apparently their early morning coordination skills need a little work.

They eventually make it to the bathroom and only then does Castle let go of her to turn on the shower. Kate consciously avoids the mirror as she stands in the middle of the room, curling her toes against the cool tile, her arms crossed over her chest to stave off the chill of the air.

Once the water is warm and the steam begins curling through the room, Castle steps into the tub and holds out a hand to guide her in after him.

The stall is luxurious, with dual shower heads and beautiful tile and a smoky glass door, and Kate is pretty sure she can get used to this. Already is, actually.

What she has not imagined, however, is that she would have time to admire the décor during her first time in his shower. She has always imagined that her back would be pressed against the cool tiles, his firm body at her front as they devour each other. Of course, she also has not imagined that there would have been four rounds prior to getting into the shower.

Castle's hands never leave her the entire time as he holds her to him, watches the hot water sluice over their bodies, feels both of them relax beneath the heat and pressure.

After a good five minutes of just standing there, he pulls back and gently positions her head beneath the stream of water. She lifts her chin, leans back into his touch as his fingers caress her scalp, winding through her hair along with the water, wetting it thoroughly. He reaches for his shampoo with one hand, and the thought that she is going to smell like him ignites all sorts of warm feelings in his chest. Katherine Beckett is in his shower, with him, letting him wash her hair.

Wow.

He pours a generous dollop of shampoo onto his palm and massages it into her hair, nails lightly caressing her scalp. Kate melts into him, his touch, his everything, and allows him to take the lead, to wash away the previous day's grit and rain. She closes her eyes against the spray, feels the warmth wash over her, soothing her aching muscles and joints. She hurts already and she knows it is only going to get worse as the day goes on.

Castle washes and rinses her hair with a practiced ease while Kate stubbornly refuses to think about how his proficiency was acquired. It is probably a conversation they need to have at some point, but not now. Right now she just wants to bask in this beautiful new thing they have, avoid reality for a while longer.

It all comes crashing down on her, though, as Castle lathers up his hands and begins to run them over her skin. She winces as he touches her shoulder blades, battered from repeated contact with the cement roof, and he freezes.

"Sorry," he says softly, his arms dropping to hang by his side.

"It's okay," she urges. "Keep going.

"I can't. Not if it's going to hurt you."

She reaches up to cup his cheek, fighting the grimace that threatens to split her face as the pain shoots through her muscles. Her shoulders and elbows are strained from hanging by her arms, her hands and fingertips rubbed raw from clinging to the rough edge.

"I need this, Castle. I need yesterday afternoon gone. Keep going."

"Kate..."

"Please?"

Reluctantly he continues, hands tentatively working their way across her shoulders and down her arms, then back up to her clavicles, her sternum, her ribs. Kate's eyes are fixed on him as he lathers up her entire body, removing the dirt and grime and sweat from yesterday's battles...and last night's adventures. He pauses periodically to re-soap his hands and suppress the nagging voice in his head that is screaming at him for causing her pain despite her assurances that it is alright.

He works all the way down to her feet, then around behind her where his hands travel methodically up her body. He stands back when he is done, allows her to turn around beneath the spray and rinse away the suds. She then returns the favor for him, thoroughly lathering his hair and body, enjoying the feel of the soft strands between her fingers, his warm, tender skin under her hands.

They wind up back in each other's arms beneath the water for a few minutes before he finally reaches back and shuts it off. A fluffy towel makes its way into her hands and she gingerly dries her body before wrapping it around herself. Castle does the same and they step out of the stall into the spacious bathroom.

The mirror is completely fogged up from the steam and Castle reaches out with one hand to smudge it away. Kate laughs, finding it amusing yet not that surprising that he is the type to use his hands to clean the mirror. He probably draws pictures in it sometimes, too.

Castle's bright eyes meet hers in the glass and he freezes, the smile falling from his face in an instant.

"Kate..."

"What is it?"

He turns to her, traces a finger down her neck and across her collarbone. She follows his motions in the mirror and immediately latches onto what has him so worried, so choked up.

"God," he says almost to himself. "What did he do to you?"

"I told you," she reminds him though her own voice is weak as the memories overwhelm her.

"Kate..."

He un-tucks the towel and lets it fall to the floor, revealing an abundance of angry black and blue marks on her skin. Last night in the dark of the bedroom and just now in the muted tones of the shower the bruises had not been so obvious, but under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom they stand out.

There are finger marks on the sides of her neck, the pattern of Maddox's thumbs crisscrossing the front of her throat. Her stomach has turned an angry yellow and purple, and both of her hips are banged up as well. Castle carefully examines her, running his fingers along the rough edges of the bruises that mar her body. Most of her back is either black and blue or scraped raw from being repeatedly thrown down on the cement, and he is sure there are an equal number of bruises that are not visible on her skin.

He turns, meets her eyes in the mirror, worried and angry and apologetic.

"I'm so sorry, Castle," she whispers, an echo of her words last night in his foyer. She is not sure what she is apologizing for; the fact that she did not listen to him and nearly died or the fact that he has to see the aftermath. Probably both.

"I just can't...he beat you up, Kate."

"I know."

"He tried to kill you."

"I know."

"He tried to take you away from me forever."

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, trails a path down her cheek. "I know."

"You can't..."

"I'm done, Castle, remember? I'm done with it. No more case." She turns and kisses him deeply, mollifying his fears and calming his anger at Maddox. "Just you and me now, okay? Just you and me."

She has no idea what just the two of them means, exactly. What is she going to do with her time now that she is not a Detective? How is she going to support herself (obviously Castle would say that she does not need to but she refuses to not have her own steady source of income)? How long is it going to be before she wants to go back to the precinct, regrets walking away? It all seemed so clear yesterday as she dangled from the edge of the rooftop. It still is, really. She still stands by her decisions, but inevitably there will be a moment where the full impact of her choices comes crashing down on her and Kate has no idea what she is going to do when that time arises.

Castle's hands come to rest on her waist, careful to avoid the sensitive areas, and his touch draws her from her inner stream of questions.

"Do you want some ibuprofen or anything? And I'm sure I have something to put on your scrapes and bruises."

She shakes her head, eyes scanning her own reflection, changes her mind when she sees how bad it really is. "Actually, yeah, it would probably be a good idea."

Castle drops a kiss on her shoulder before stepping away to rifle through the cupboards. Kate meanders back into the bedroom, makes her way to his enormous walk-in closet to peruse her options. He finds her there just as she is pulling on a pair of his way-too-big-for-her sweatpants, wraps his arms around her from behind and leaves a kiss in her hair.

She smells like him. He is never going to get used to this.

He dresses quickly in boxers, pajama pants, and a t-shirt before tending to Kate.

"Here." Castle opens a tube of arnica cream and begins to gently dab it over all of the nasty-looking marks on her body, taking his time to work it in, fully cover each area. She flinches a couple of times but relaxes again as the cream cools her skin. He coats the scrapes on her upper back in Neosporin, covers them with soft bandages.

"Thanks," she murmurs as he steps back and closes the tubes. He tugs a shirt from its hanger, helps her aching arms into the sleeves and buttons it up. The fabric is soft on her skin and loose enough that it should still allow the cream to work its magic.

He presses his lips to her forehead and lingers there, feels her lean into his touch. "There's ibuprofen on the bathroom counter."

She lifts her arm and catches his empty hand as it falls to his side, twines their fingers together. "You're so good to me," she murmurs, leans into his side as they cross the room.

He tilts his chin, brushes his lips to her temple. He does not think he will ever tire of tasting her skin, touching her, kissing her.

"I love you."

Thoughts?