"You know, I can't dance."
"That's okay. I'll pretend I can't."
"We're in the middle of your living room."
"Who cares? We're dancing."
"I might be bad."
"I might love it."
Kate pushed her hand against the back of his shoulder and focused, hard, on the steps below – trying to not step on his foot.
"Relax," he said, as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear just in time to see her eyes meet his, "just sway, like in middle school."
Kate smiled, breathed in and did as she he said.
"You know, I haven't told you much lately, but I'm having a really great time – us, you."
Castle smiled. He was too, but she knew that, he told her all the time.
The stress left her days ago. The last ounce of a sting traveled out of her with one of his hugs that let her morph into his body.
"Kate, I know."
Kate startled awake. Frantically looking around her room, machines next to her. Pale blue walls, a blanket was over her. She was in a room, a hospital?
Why was she in a hospital…?
She fell asleep on Castle's couch last night. So did he. She shouldn't be in the hospital.
She felt where the – was it an IV – was sticking out of her arm. She put a hand to her face and felt the bandage around her forehead. The dried something on her head was sticking to her hair and making a single strand pull underneath it. She tried to get up but felt a huge need to sit back down on the bed. Her body felt week, tired. She looked at her other arm where a bruise covered most of it. Her legs felt the same way. She removed the blanket to find similar bruises.
She had a hospital gown on and her body was bruised.
Castle.
He had to be here somewhere. They were just dancing, having fun. He had to be somewhere if she was in the hospital. He wouldn't just leave her. She felt along the cord to her left and found the button that paged a nurse. She looked down at her feet that were sticking out of the bed. Kate could have sworn her toes were painted pink…
A nurse walked in a few seconds later carrying a clipboard.
"Good morning Ms. Beckett."
The nurse walked around to the side of her bed and checked her monitor.
"Looks like you're doing fine. Had a scary fall there."
Fall…
"Um – fa – what exactly do you mean. I fell?"
"You don't remember?"
Kate thought. She tried to remember, but falling – the last fall happened months ago. And it was major. She fell off the side of a building. But Ryan had pulled her up.
Right?
"Let me go get your doctor."
Kate felt confused. Her world was not the same. She needed someone. She needed Castle.
"Nurse?" Kate said, trying to get her attention before she left.
"Yes."
"Is there someone here with me?"
"Your friend left a few hours ago. He said he was coming back later."
Castle was here.
Kate's doctor walked in a few hours later, after Kate had eaten lunch and been able to get herself to the bathroom in her room.
"Sorry about the wait. A car accident has us running around, busy up here."
Kate smiled, waved off the doctor's frenzied walk around the room. He pulled up a chair and brought it next to her bed.
"Okay, let's see what we have here – Ah, Katherine Beckett. You had quite a fall – "
"So I've heard."
"Okay, so it looks like you have a concussion, can't read, drive, the usual. You don't have anything broken, surprisingly. You landed on a passing garbage truck. You fell, but garbage stopped you. It's quite the miracle."
"I don't remember any of this."
"It's the concussion. The scrape on your head – the garbage wasn't the ideal thing to land on – but it beats the ground."
Kate was wrapping her mind around everything. She couldn't figure out why she was just learning about this. What happened to Castle. What happened to that strange but amazing, arousing night. She came to him, dripping from the rain, begging for forgiveness, begging for him. They had two wonderful months together. Spending all of their free time together – which they had a lot of. They were a couple. He made her feel safe.
"Doctor, I feel – I can't figure it out. I could have sworn that someone grabbed me, pulled me up."
"N – no, you fell. No one grabbed you. No one was on the top of the building. You fell and bystanders called the police. You've been asleep for almost two days, under constant supervision."
This didn't make any sense.
"We're going to keep you here for a little while, but you're out of the worst part of the woods, so you can sleep. You can't do anything too stimulating, not for a couple of days. Sorry, but you can color?"
"Color – "
"It's something we have the patients with concussions do. Trust me, in a few hours without reading or television you will be coloring. I'll leave it over here. Get some rest."
The doctor left the coloring book, at its crayons, on the empty table to her left.
"Um, I didn't catch your name?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Dr. Harris. I'll be with you throughout your stay. You should be out of intensive care pretty soon. Oh, and your friend – I didn't catch his name – he should be by later to deal with your sudden popularity."
"Um – excuse me?"
"It's not everyday a writer's muse falls and is miraculously saved – by a garbage truck – but saved nonetheless."
"Okay, when did he say he was coming by?" she asked, confused, but understanding.
"He had to run back to work, but he should be by later tonight. He had his partner with him."
Work. Partner . . .
"Was this man Caucasian…"
"No, but I think his partner is."
Damn.
"Okay, thank you."
When the doctor left, Kate sat up in her bed and folded her legs. It stung, hurt from the scrapes and bruises. She reached over to her right and grabbed the phone that was still hooked to a cord. She knew the number by heart, watched as her fingers pressed the familiar buttons.
But it rang. Rang again.
Kate played with the cord that was long enough to let her walk around the room – if she could comfortably walk.
The call was directed to voicemail. And this wasn't something she could leave in a message.
How could he not be here?
She dialed the house number, but had the same experience. The call was interrupted by Alexis' childish voice telling her to leave her name and that they would get back to her.
Kate put the phone back where it belonged and rubbed her head. It hurt, but the confusion was masking it. Had she just been dreaming? Was this entire relationship, the good, the bad – was it all in her head?
If it was, the last thing she said to Castle was their fight. She watched him walk out of her apartment angrily. He said he was done.
But she needed him. She needed that hug he gives her, that calm feeling that washes over her body. She needed him to fall asleep beside her.
This was meant to be a one shot, but let me know if I should continue it.