Castle sat down at his desk, fingers poised over the keyboard of his laptop with the clear expectation that words would begin to flow. However, there seemed to be some sort of blockage between his brain and his fingers, because nothing was flowing. Absolutely nothing, and when Gina were to find out, she'd rip him a new one. He was already overdue, having procrastinated until the very last minute, and then a murder popped up. He brushed the chapters off, decided to go to the precinct with his fiancee and delve into one of the most boring cases of his life, but that was still better than sitting at his desk now, lacking the words he usually had such control over.

His wife to be sat in the living room. He could hear the news in the background, the occasional clink of her glass on the table as she sipped her wine before turning the page of the book she was reading. Naturally, she was rereading Heat Wave, and she had declared she was doing so to refresh her memory (not that it needed refreshing) so she would be ready for when the new book was released, or until he got her the advanced readers copy. She was doing it to motivate him to write. He appreciated the race she had initiated that would keep Gina off his back, but after everything that had happened recently, how close he had come to losing her in those woods as she pretended to be a killer, he just couldn't… There were no words. None. He had been robbed of them so suddenly.

The story was there. Nikki going undercover, Rook coming to save the day… God, how he wished he could have saved Beckett. He'd felt powerless like that before, and each time, it was a punch to the gut and a kick to the nuts. He had been crawling out of his own skin with worry, and so thankful to have her back in his arms until she kicked him away after the tenth phone call to his cellphone from his publisher ex-wife. "Castle, Gates gave me a few days. Go, appease your ex-wife, and I'll just read for a little bit." She could see his reluctance, and it wasn't because he didn't want to write. "Babe, I'm not going anywhere."

And now… he was sitting in his office with no words, and the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that threatened tears because he couldn't get over the feeling of losing Beckett. He looked at the picture on his desk. The beautiful caramel curls that bracketed Beckett's face, the beautiful smile she had for him as she gazed up at the side of his face, while he wrapped his arms around her from behind with a jackass expression of his own directed towards the camera that should have ruined the image. Funnily enough, it didn't. It was all about her. That smile. The love in her eyes.

He almost lost that, and it hit him hard again. That feeling in his gut pulling and rising up. It constricted his throat and he tried to stomp down those rising feelings that were now catching up to him. He had played the part, the strong supportive husband to be. He held her while she cried. Soothed away the nightmare she'd had the night before. Doted on her as much as she could stomach.

As he sat there with his dumbass expression staring back at him in the photoframe and Beckett's adoring eyes fixated on that look, he just barely held back his own tears. When he could stand to look at it no more, he rested an elbow on the desk and screwed his eyes shut while pinching the bridge of his nose. The story was there, fresh in his mind, based on true events that he could rewrite and twist for his own little world. Perhaps Nikki wasn't the one undercover. Perhaps it was him - not HIM him, but Rook him. At least, that was what he was trying to convince himself of. He would much rather it was him than Beckett. She did not deserve what happened to her, and he would have gladly taken her place.

"Rick?" came a soft voice at the door to his office. Beckett's voice. He didn't even look up, just kept his eyes shut. The soft drag of her slippers told him she was getting closer, and then behind him. He felt her hands on his shoulders, sending sharp tingles through him, and they slipped down over his chest as she hunched over him, pressing her chest to his back, a warm kiss to the side of his neck. Her hair tickled him, but he didn't mind. "Babe, what's wrong?" she whispered in his ear. Her eyes took in the screen, mostly blank except for the one sentence he did manage to get out. I'm sorry I wasn't there.

Five words, and she was positive it wasn't Rook or Nikki speaking. It was the man she held fast to. "Oh, Castle," she murmured, reaching over and closing the laptop with a click. She squeezed him just a little tighter before nudging him out of the chair. "Come on." Castle finally looked at her, and she could see the brink of tears. "Hey now. None of that." He followed her towards the bedroom - her hand clutching his never really left him much of a choice. "You're sleeping on my side of the bed tonight," she said, unclear as to whose benefit it was for.

He got under the covers first, and she slipped in after him, scooting close to him, as close as he could possibly get. Her body fit snugly with his and his deceptively strong arms wrapped around her like a protective cloak. Beckett listened to his breathing, felt the rise and fall of his chest, but she knew he hadn't fallen asleep yet. "Rick?" Even she had to admit, she loved using his first name when it was just them. It was so much more intimate than using Castle all the time.

"It's nothing, Kate. You should rest," he whispered into her hair and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. If she slept, she knew that he wouldn't. He'd keep watch, stand guard and keep the nightmares at bay. The dark circles under his eyes told that story clearly.

"Don't do that," she murmured, not unkindly. "Don't shut me out. Tell me what's going on in here." Her hand traced loving circles around the center of his chest, his heart.

Castle took a deep breath, swallowed the lump in his throat and decided he couldn't do it, so he shook his head. She felt that movement and tilted her head up to look at him, his eyes red from the sting of salty liquid pooling there, but stubbornly refusing to fall. "God, I thought I lost you," he said at last. "I was… helpless. I wanted to look for you… I didn't know where. And then…" his hand brushed the hair away from her forehead so he could clearly see the marred skin there, already healing. "I'm supposed to be there for you… so this doesn't happen."

Beckett understood the unsaid words. He was supposed to protect her, and on a normal day, she might take a small amount of offense to the notion that she couldn't protect herself, but she understood what he was trying to say, and she couldn't fault him for that. As she was protective of him, so was he to her, and it was sweet and made her love him all that much more. "This isn't your fault, babe."

"I know," he nodded his head, but somehow the guilt still rested deep within. "I just… there's so much I wanted to say to you… So many things," he repeated words from what felt like so long ago.

"You could say them now?" Beckett whispered, her fingers trailing along his jaw, watching his adam's apple bob with nervous anticipation.

"I want to tell you how extraordinary you are. I've said it before, but I am still amazed by the depths of your strength. Especially now. I love everything about you. Everything. You make me want to crawl out of my own skin in the best way imaginable. Your heart, your soul, your personality, God, all of you… I don't know how I got so lucky… but um…"

There was a 'but' and Beckett had a twisted feeling in her stomach.

"I… well I…"

"Take your time," she cooed.

"I want to say I'm sorry." He exhaled, because it was out in the open. The bandaid had been ripped off, but now came the stinging pain.

"You're sorry?" Beckett's brow furrowed in confusion.

"When you were shot… I just… I never apologized for how inappropriate that was."

His voice was so sullen, Beckett couldn't believe it. "Let me get this straight, you're apologizing for the one thing that kept me going?" she asked.

"It's just… you were with Motorcycle boy." It wasn't lost on either of them that Beckett didn't correct him this time. "And I am sorry that the first time I ever said it to you was then. I don't know what I was thinking. I never wanted it to come out like that."

"Castle, you were in shock. I don't blame you for that. In fact… before I passed out… I there was just this feeling that washed over me. It was like… finally… and I felt I could die happily, y'know? I thought that was it. I thought it was the end, but I woke up and Josh was there… and things were just complicated, and I…"

"Needed time. I understand."

"Besides, the first time I told you I love you wasn't a real winner, either." At Castle's raised eyebrow and knowing smirk, she shook her head. "We're a couple of real winners, aren't we? You say it after I've been shot, I say it when I am standing on a bomb…"

"Wait, that's not the first time you said it to me."

Beckett's eyebrow shot up. "Babe, what are you talking about?"

"Just what I said. That isn't the first time you said it to me."

"Yes it is. I'm the one who said it, so I should know. Alright, you know what… why don't you tell me when it was that I expressed my love for you… and if you say the day we met, I will pull out my gun and shoot you." Naturally, she was joking.

"Promise?"

She shook her head at him, and waited for him to enlighten her. "It was the night of my epic birthday party."

"You still haven't gotten me back for that, by the way. Your whole thanksgiving costume fake-out was laaaaame. And… I'm sorry, but what? I never expressed my love for you on your birthday. Well, I mean…" Sure, they had made love, that was wasn't the same as the actual words they were disagreeing upon right now.

"Yes it was. Just think."

"Castle," the irritation in her voice was becoming evident.

"I'm not kidding. You said it."

Kate tried to think. She could see Castle's reaction to the party after the boys had broken down the door. She remembered for that heart stopping moment that Castle might've actually been mad at her for taking advantage of his mind-fogged state, what with the broken knee and the pain killers, and the whole believing she was going to die part… she had a lot of apologizing to do after that night.

"Was it before or after the party?" she asked.

"Before. I had just apologized to you."

"You apologized for getting me into trouble…" Beckett murmured, closing her eyes and pictured that night. She'd just put her earrings in, the last touch to a complete ensemble. She remembered the butterflies in her stomach before she revealed herself in the black dress that she had gone shopping with Lanie to pick out.

She could hear his apology in her ear as she remembered. 'Well, I don't say this often… but… I'm sorry. Sorry I got you into trouble. Sorry I… lost my mind.' She remembered feeling slightly horrible because she had done that to him, but she promised herself it was going to be worth it, and it was… but it almost wasn't. Castle was a good sport, however, and that night, she did fall in love with him even more.

"And you said it was okay," he continued, his hand stroking up and down her arm. "And that my overactive imagination was one of the things you love about me."

Beckett's face fell. "That's it? That is so not the same, Castle."

"Sure it is. One of the things, Kate. Meaning, there were more things that you love about me. You said 'love'. You can't take that back. I won't let you."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes, but still had a smirk on her face, because she would let him win this round.

"Kate?" She looked back up at Castle, his ocean blues cleared up a bit. Helplessness had been replaced by her. "I love you." They weren't standing on bombs, had bullets in their chests, or victim of a freudian slip. It was just them. "Always."

Beckett smiled. "I love you. Always." Their lips touched, opened and welcoming. He pulled her impossibly closer to him. "Rick…"

She didn't need to say any more. That night, they showed each other just how much they loved one another. Very slowly.