Disclaimer: If I owned "Castle," the end of the Season 6 finale would never have happened to Beckett and Castle.

Author's Note: After having I don't know how many heart attacks over the course of "Driven," 7x1, I just had to write this, especially because I couldn't stand the idea that Beckett might really be doubting Castle. Warning: Massive Season 7 Premiere spoilers ahead!

Finding Her Way Home

Kate awoke with a start, her heart racing.

And then relaxed as her eyes adjusted to the dark enough to see the darker shadow lying next to her. Castle. It hadn't been a dream.

So many times, she'd dreamed about finding him, about him finding her and telling her that the living nightmare of the past weeks and months were the real bad dream and that he was right there, still with her.

So many mornings, she'd woken up, half convinced that he must be there, sleeping beside her.

So many times her heart had broken when she'd woken up to the terrible empty half of the bed.

But now, for the first time, she woke up and he was there.

He was back. He was alive. He was with her.

And then the tears started—more tears—God, how much had she cried over the past couple months—and though she tried to keep quiet, she couldn't help but sob.

He stirred. "Kate?" he mumbled.

She couldn't answer him, could only cover her mouth with her hand as she tried to hold back the sobs.

"Kate," he said again and she could hear he was fully awake now in his voice. "Oh, Kate…"

He reached out for her, tugging her towards him, and she almost collapsed on top of him, burying her face in the curve where his neck met his shoulder, as she sobbed, her fingers clutching at his shirt.

She cried for what felt like hours, cried out her fears, her nightmares of finding him dead, of never finding him at all, cried out her doubts—he loved her, would never leave her voluntarily.

He tightened the grip of his strong arms around her. She was peripherally aware of him murmuring words into her hair. "Kate. Kate. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm here. I won't leave you, Kate…"

Finally, her sobs quieted down and she just rested against him, breathed in the scent of him, let the solid warmth of his body seep into her. Let his presence, his love, fill in the cracks in her heart.

Beneath her hand on his chest, she could feel his heart beating, steady and sure.

His hand came up to cover hers, linking his fingers with hers. "Can you feel it, Kate?"

She lifted her head to look at him. "Feel what?"

"Feel my heart beating."

It was almost as if he'd read her mind. He knew her so well…

"It's yours," he said quietly. "My heart is yours. You know that, right? You know I love you with every beat of my heart, with every breath I take."

He was such a writer, she thought, and even though she thought she'd cried her last tears, she felt yet more pricking at the back of her eyes. She didn't know how he managed to say something so cliché and sound so sincere.

"I know," was all she finally said. And the beautiful, amazing thing was that it was true. For the first time in what felt like months, it was completely and utterly true. She knew he loved her.

And she knew he was telling the truth.

The last nagging doubts, the questions, the voice of her cautious self—the part of her that was still so slow to trust, too quick to doubt—were finally silenced.

All the evidence—the money, the tent, his clothes, his fingerprints—suddenly, none of it really mattered.

She didn't know what had happened, where he'd been, who had done this to him. She didn't know… anything, really.

But she knew him, she trusted him. He loved her.

And she knew that no matter what the evidence seemed to indicate, there was no way that he could have knowingly left her alone for so long. He would never have done that to her, to Alexis, to Martha. He wouldn't leave her like that. He would never willingly leave her.

She lowered her head to rest against his shoulder again. "I'm sorry, Castle."

"For what? You have nothing to be sorry for."

"For doubting you, even for a minute. I should have known better. I should have trusted you."

"Ssh, Kate, it's okay," he murmured, his fingers tightening around hers. Beneath her, she felt a slight shudder of a breath go through him. "I wish… I wish I could explain, wish I could remember, tell you what happened. The tent, everything…"

He trailed off and she inwardly flinched. His voice… there was something in his voice, a hollowness to it. He sounded so… lost… uncharacteristically confused…

And it was her turn to tighten her arms around him. "We'll figure out who did this to you, Castle," she promised him again, as she had earlier.

"To us," he corrected her gently. "We'll figure out who did this to us."

Us. The simple two-letter word suddenly struck her as being the most beautiful word in the English language. Us. The two of them, together.

"I missed that," she told him quietly. "I missed us."

She felt him kiss her hair. "I love you, Kate."

She lifted her head, stretching up to kiss his chin and then his lips, softly, a kiss that healed all the last broken pieces of her trust in him, in them.

His hand came up to cup the back of her head, gently pressing it back against his shoulder when the kiss ended. She felt him run his fingers lightly through her hair and abruptly found herself yawning.

"Sleep, Kate. You must be exhausted," he murmured.

She was exhausted. So exhausted and mentally and emotionally drained as well.

His hand stroked her back in a slow, soothing motion and she felt her eyes drift closed, drowsiness beginning to overtake her.

She was hovering at the edge of sleep when she abruptly snapped her eyes open. "Castle. You'll still be here when I wake up?" She wasn't sure where the words came from but they spilled from her lips almost of their own volition. Somehow, irrationally, she felt as if she couldn't sleep until she asked. She had to be sure.

"Always." She felt as well as heard the rumble of his voice as he made the promise.

Always.

And she knew he meant it.

On that thought, she closed her eyes and she slept.

Finally, she was home.

~The End~