Okay, so I am only submitting this because of the drought...I never intended to submit it. It isn't finished (which is why it's a T rating), but I have three very active children which makes me a slow writer. Sorry in advance. Hope you like it. If you don't, let me know what would make it better. I'm a big girl, I can take it.

Perspective

Around 2:00a.m

Kate turns the key and opens the door. Castle is close behind her. It's mid-summer and though the heat and the humidity were oppressive outside, Kate's apartment was refreshingly cool.

"I'm going to take a shower." She muttered as she walked down a hallway that he assumed led to the bedroom and the bathroom.

"Call if you need anything." It was not a quip or a joke. He was not in the mood for that. He watched her walk away; there was a patch of blood on the back collar of her shirt that must have come from the abrasion on her head. He looked down at his own clothes. He had his jacket in a bag from the hospital. It had taken the brunt of the blood from his head wound. He had blood on his shirt and pants, a mixture of hers and his. The events of the day were weighing heavily on him; otherwise he would have been fascinated by his first visit to her apartment.

His head thundered and his hand immediately flew to the bandage on his right temple. "Sixteen stitches. Ugh." He needed some ibuprofen. Rick walked into the kitchen hoping that Kate kept her medication in there instead of the bathroom. She was neat; everything had its place and even though it wouldn't make the style section, her taste in furnishings was…classy.

Castle found the ibuprofen in the first cabinet he opened, to the right of the sink. He couldn't help but notice that it was the only medicine bottle in there. The cabinet was also the home of the glasses, so he grabbed one and turned to the fridge. Opening the freezer to grab a few ice cubes, he took a quick inventory of its contents.

"Hmmmm. Chopin vodka, Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia Frozen yogurt, a piece of salmon and what? Half a box of corndogs? It's like that game from Sesame Street, 'One of these kids is doing his own thing…'"

Making a mental note to ask Kate a follow-up question, he grabbed the ice. Tonight was not a vodka night; it was more like a whiskey night, and he found the rest of her liquor over the sink. Washing down the pills, Rick meandered into the living room. There were two bookshelves side by side, and even though he could see his books on a lower shelf , what drew him to the shelves were the pictures.

There must have been several dozen of all different sizes. Family pictures mostly, some might have been friends, but he noticed a resemblance in several of the photos. He remembered from The File that she had two sisters and a brother, all older. Kate was apparently that "caboose" child. There was one picture towards the back that must have been her mother, her sisters and Kate as an infant.

One that particularly moved him was a picture of a teen Kate. She must have been around eighteen. Her hair was long and pulled back in a pony tail. She was wearing a Columbia t-shirt and she was holding a newborn. It was obvious she had been crying, but she had the biggest smile on her face. Tucked in the corner of the frame was a school portrait of a young girl. Rick turned it over. On the back was written "To Aunt Kate, Johanna Beckett Moore, Age 11. I love you!"

He placed the photo back in the corner of the frame and walked to the window. It was very dark, but he wasn't looking at anything in specific. She almost died today. There are so many things she hasn't done yet. She needs to get married, have children of her own. To grow old. To make Captain, see the world.

He felt nauseous as the thoughts tumbled in his brain. He replayed the scene over and over in his head. He sees the junkie point the gun at her chest at almost point-blank range and pull the trigger. He sees her fall. The junkie then edges even closer to her and aims the gun at her head. Castle shudders and leans his head against the window.

She was almost killed today.

"I called Lanie. She's coming over. You don't have to stay."

He turned around and there she was, leaning against the door frame. She's alive. He had to keep telling himself that. Her hair was still wet and fell past her shoulders. She was wearing a white tank top and black yoga pants that hung low on her hips. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't wearing shoes or make-up, but she looked young -- like the girl in the photo. He couldn't see the right side of her face really well, but he did notice the impressive bruise that peeked out of the top of the tank.

"You could have died. You were almost killed."

"And the great Castle came to my rescue again. One more time, you saved my life. I guess I owe you, right?" She was smiling when she said it, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. She was trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't. Don't do that." He starts to walk toward her. "Don't make it out to be some ordinary event that we can laugh about."

"Castle, it's my job." He stops right in front of her and leans in with his retort.

"It's NOT your job. It's not your job to get killed. Just because you put yourself out there everyday, doesn't mean it's your job to die that way."

She nodded her head. There was no point arguing with him now. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Things always look clearer in the light of day." As the words tumbled out of her mouth, she almost choked on them. Her mother used to tell her that all of the time. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Her exhaustion and emotions were getting the better of her.

Castle's hand came up to the bruise on her chest. He lightly traced the upper arch of the purplish greenish area. The shot would have been a direct hit without the vest. He could feel her heart beating in his fingertips. He felt her tremble, and he looked into her eyes. Then slightly upwards and to the left he saw the abrasion on her right temple. It was the reason he was here. She had a concussion from hitting the concrete floor so hard after being shot. His left hand drew up to her face and he brushed his thumb along her jaw line.

"You were almost killed," he whispered.

"I'm alive," she murmured, still trembling from the proximity of him and his hands on her.

"I….." Castle leaned in and ever so gently brushed his lips over hers. It was the second time in the last twelve hours that his lips covered hers.