The Eight Deaths of Richard Castle

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or any of its characters. I just like to take them out to play every once in a while

A/N: Here is the beginning of the sequel to The Nine Lives of Katherine Beckett and the next installment of what I have come to call The Number Series. Thank you so much to everyone that has read Nine Lives and is sticking with me. Trust me, this one is going to be interesting. I love to hear what you think so don't be shy! Reviews are love.

Chapter 1

Kate turned over the face the edge of the bed and she felt Rick snuggle up to her back, wrapping his arm securely around her middle, pressing the cool sheet against her bare skin. He let out a hum of contentment and she felt it vibrate through her ear and jaw.

Kate could have sworn someone was staring at her as her mind swum back into consciousness. She tried to snuggle deeper into the warm pillow under her body, but she kept hearing hushed voices whispering around her. With a sigh she cracked an eye open and blinked a couple of times as the back of Castle's couch came into focus. She brought a hand up to rub her eyes, raw and puffy from falling asleep so soon after crying. The voices stopped with her movement and as her mind became more aware she realized her body pillow was breathing.

"What…?" She began, as she realized she was snuggled cozily against Castle's chest. The events of the few hours before came flooding back to her and she tried to twist around when she heard a throat clearing gently behind her.

Rick's arm tightened around her middle as she tried to turn, causing her body to contort awkwardly until she could take in the sight of Castle's mother standing over her, with an elated grin on her face and Alexis standing slightly behind her. The teenager offered an awkwardly shy wave as Kate stared at her in the glaring morning light. Rick grumbled in his sleep and Kate was forced to turn back to her previous position as his arm adjusted around her waist.

Kate huffed gently, red heat rising up her neck, across her cheek and to the tips of her ears.

"Martha, I…"

The older woman placed a hand gently on Kate's head, patting it softly. "Don't worry, dear, we will have plenty of time to talk later."

Kate closed her eyes in embarrassment at the older woman's smug, knowing tone.

"Oh, and Kate," Martha started again and the burning made it's way through Kate's scalp and she tried to bury her head in Castle's chest at her next words. "Richard does have a very comfortable bed, but I am sure you will find that out soon enough for yourself, dear."

Kate felt the rhythmic breathing rumble into a laugh, his pretense of sleeping falling away, as she groaned into Rick's chest again.

"You are such a liar," she chastised at him as she pressed a smile into his neck.

"But you still love me," his sleepy voice rumbled only loud enough for her to hear.

"Yeah, I still love you."

He was happy. She was happy. It had been three months of arguments and bickering, laughter and pure happiness. It had been three months since she had broken down on his couch and told him how she really felt. She had let a crack in the wall show and she was so glad. It was the best decision she had ever made, to allow him into the fortress.

The wall was still there, secure, to protect her heart from the evils of the outside world, but she had allowed him in. He wasn't going to hurt her. He had promised he would never hurt her.

The street lamp peeked in through the curtains and she placed her hand on top of his, sandwiching it between her palm and belly. She could feel him breathing as his chest rose and fell against her back. It was perfect. They were perfect. It was just as it was before— teasing, playing, fighting. The only difference was that now they would make their way home together most nights.

A small grin grew on her lips as she measured the space between his breaths. She waited while they evened out and paused to listen for the small, soft telltale snores. Satisfied that he was finally asleep she peeled his arm and the blanket off of her and slipped softly out of the bed, letting her feet hit the floor with a soft thump. She shivered slightly in the cool February air as she searched for something to cover her naked body. Her scar pulled slightly as she stretched her arms through the sleeves of Rick's button up shirts, but it didn't bother her anymore. It was no longer a reminder that she had almost died; instead that she was alive.

He had studied the scar the first time he had seen it. He had paused from undressing her and run his fingers over the raised surface time and time again. It had been as if he had been praying. Worshiping it in some bizarre way. He had stared at it for long minutes as she lay there half dressed on top of his bed, her hand running through his hair. Reassuring him that she was there, with him, alive.

She was alive.

She crept out of the bedroom, pausing as the door quietly slipped shut behind her. She listened for any sign of movement from the bedroom and let out a small sigh of relief at the silence that answered. With practiced feet she darted across the living room on her tip toes, the tail of Rick's shirt flapping gently against the back of her naked thighs as she went. A small smile graced her lips and laughter glinted in her eyes. He had been teasing her for the last month with torturous hints about the plot of his latest novel and she had had enough. She wanted to know and all she could get out of him were cryptic responses and an impish grin. So, really her actions were justified, she rationalized, as she made her way through the open door of his office and stood in front of his fictional murder board.

She was the inspiration for Nikki Heat. She deserved to know what mess her alter ego was about to get herself into.

She bit her lip gently to suppress her grin as she finished rationalizing her uncharacteristically devious behavior, and bounced on the balls of her feet as her finger tapped gently on the screen. Her stomach fluttered softly as her picture appeared in front of her and she paused to glance around as her finger continued to hover over the photo. Satisfied that she was still alone and the rest of the apartment was still asleep she let her finger press against the monitor once more.

That same flutter in her stomach churned into a nauseating pit as she stumbled back to sink into her favorite chair. Her eyes never left the faces staring back at her. The faces that haunted her dreams and lived in her nightmares. She could feel the shock rush through her body and the bile rise in her throat.

Why would he? How could he?

You are such a liar.

The teasing words repeated and morphed in her mind, twirling around in circles as the nausea fought to over take her.

But you still love me.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as her lungs burned from ragged breaths.

Yeah, I still love you.

Her heart broke a little bit inside as the faces stared back at her. Deceased.

Gone. They're all gone, Castle.

The nausea churned into a red-hot anger in her stomach and her hand clenched into a fist at her side. Balling up the hem of his shirt hanging limply off of her body.

She was going to kill him.

She had let herself be happy and alive with him. She had the scars to prove it.