DISCLAIMER: "Castle" and all its wonderful characters are the property of ABC and Andrew Marlowe. Much as I enjoy playing with them, I unfortunately do not own them. Please don't sue me.

May your troubles be less

And your blessings be more.

And nothing but happiness

Come through your door.

- Old Irish Blessing

She's so pale, he thought as he stopped at the foot of the hospital bed and watched her sleep against the backdrop of sterile white walls and a garden of get-well flowers. He carried his own bouquet, a tasteful arrangement of yellow daisies, to add to the growing nursery. She liked daisies. They weren't her favorite flower, but she'd told him once that they made her smile and he loved her smile. So when he walked past the flower shop and saw them, the bright petals glowing in the sunlight, they reminded him of her, of her smile. So he bought them. He wanted to make her smile.

She wasn't smiling though. Her face was drawn, lips set in a line, and she looked so frail. So unlike herself. She looked every bit the gun-shot victim. He'd known that in their line of work it was always a possibility, that every day they could wake to the unsteady tripping of a heart monitor and the unfamiliar touch of hospital bed sheets. Still it was a shock to see her like this.

A part of him was thankful to find her asleep, not sure whether he'd be welcome. He had no reason to be there, wouldn't have had an excuse if she turned her questioning gaze towards him and wondered either aloud or in her head, "What are you doing here?"

He just needed to see her, needed to assure himself that she was still alive even though he'd been following her progress from afar and knew that she was well out of the woods.

He moved along the side of the bed, trailing his fingers across the heavy green blanket as he went, and sat in the chair beside her. He propped the flowers against her thigh and dared to place his hand on hers, watching carefully in case the touch roused her from sleep. But she didn't stir. Didn't move a muscle at all; the only signs that she still lived were in the soft warmth of her hand and the electronic beating of her heart filtered through the monitor.

"I-" His voice failed in his throat and he shook his head. On his way into the hospital he had a million thoughts, phrases, words that he'd wanted to share with her, but now his mind was blank. He couldn't remember what he intended to say. In fact he wasn't certain what he'd intended by coming here at all.

"I'm glad you're alive, Kate. So glad. It's been a long time since we last talked. And I guess we're technically not talking now but...If you can hear me, I just wanted to say," he took a steadying breath. "I wanted to say what I didn't get to say before- what I couldn't say before.

I think about you all the time still. Sometimes it's because I miss you, or I miss what we could have had, I don't know. But most of the time I think about you and I just want you to be happy. Maybe that's cliched, but it's the truth. I think about you and I hope with all my heart that you find happiness. And yeah...that's- that's what I wanted to tell you. Because your life is too precious to waste chasing ghosts. Happiness, that's worth chasing."

He stood, bowed his head and said a prayer, for her health, her protection, for the promise of happiness.

"Goodbye Kate," he whispered with a squeeze of her hand, then stood and turned towards the door.

But he stopped, turned back, approached the bed, bent over and ghosted a kiss over her forehead.

"Goodbye."

As he walked from the room, he nodded to uniform posted outside her door, "Officer."

"Detective Demming," the man replied with his own nod.

A/N - Random plot bunny that popped into my head. Not much of a point to it.

Fight On and You'll Never Walk Alone