Okay, I have absolutely no explanation for where this came from, except that I just started writing today and didn't really stop. Yes, it's based on the word of the day, which I've included, and the definition will come to make sense, I promise. And yes, it's post-finale, though I feel as if it's almost pointless, being so close to the premiere (yay!), yet I couldn't help it. I see this being about 5 chapters? Hopefully.

I must say this, I have no real knowledge of medical care, it's all from my head. Also, I'm attempting a different angle on Jim Beckett. Almost everything has him as a more soft-spoken man, and from what I've seen, I think he's a bit more bold. So, I hope you like this.

Disclaimer: Only in my wildest fantasies do I own any part of Castle.

Hope you enjoy!

dilatory \DIL-uh-tor-ee\, adjective:

1. Tending to put off what ought to be done at once; given to procrastination.
2. Marked by procrastination or delay; intended to cause delay; - said of actions or measures.

Everything felt…heavy. Like the weight of the world was pushing down on her chest. Her arms felt as if she had spent a few too many hours lifting weights, and though she could curl and flex her toes, the muscles in her knees and calves were obviously pissed at her for making the effort.

She was no idiot, she instantly noticed the raw burn sitting in her chest, after she came to, to the beeping of medical monitors. There was also a screaming pain in her heat, reminding her of her crash to the ground behind the podium.

Behind the podium. At her Captain's funeral.

Her eyes stayed glued shut while she thought. Partially because it felt like far too much work to get them to open. Partially because she knew that the light would be absolutely blinding…and she could already feel the hot swell of tears behind the lids. Her mother was gone, Montgomery was gone – her heart just…ached. And then there was Castle. And what he said. She heard what she thought she heard, right?

It was all too much, without even knowing how much time had passed since she stepped up to that microphone.

Kate let herself slip back into the comfort of sleep. She already felt exhausted again. Knowing that she'd probably feel like this for a while only added to the agony.

When the tightness in her chest woke her the next time, she found that her head didn't scream in pain so much anymore, but rather firmly whined. It was doubtful that such relief would last, especially when she considered what wakefulness had in store for her.

Someone was sitting next to her, leaning on the bed, clutching her hand. Tentatively, she rolled her toes, pleased at the little pop she felt in her joints. When it didn't hurt too much, she decided to give her fingers a shot.

They still felt like lead, but the twitch she managed was all too satisfying.

"Katie?" Her dad.

"Hi." Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, and she didn't realize until she tried to speak that her throat was on fire. "Hurts," she mumbled.

"Let me get you something." Feeling him move to leave, she popped her eyes open, ignored the sting of the white lights. It took all of her strength to tighten her grip on his fingers.

"No. Stay."

"I'm just getting you a few pieces of ice, it's right here on the side table."

She sighed, and her father could see the strain in her eyes. "Kay."

True to his word, he was back, holding her hand, before she could give it anymore thought. The motor in the bed purred, helping her be a little more upright. "I hit the call button," he told her, "so someone will be in to check you out in a moment." He held a spoon up to her lips, tried not to flinch when she winced at the cool sting of ice in her mouth. "How bad?"

She swallowed, grateful that the burn in her throat eased up. "Somewhere between 'I just need a week of sleep' and 'dying'. Changed every time I take a breath." Kate paused to take in the dark lines adorning his face. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

Before she could say what she wanted to, her door opened – she just now noticed that she had a private room – and a man in blue scrubs and a camoflauge surgical cap strode in, a petite blonde nurse on his heels.

"Detective Beckett, I'm Dr. Kovax, I performed your surgery." He seemed like a nice enough man. A bit younger than her father. He was smiling, which could only mean that he wasn't bringing bad news – at least, not life-threatening news – and he thankfully wasn't trying to shake her hand. "I know it seems like a silly question, but I have to ask you anyway, how's your pain?"

"Back and forth, depending on how fast I breathe. But, I've only been really awake for a few minutes." Her voice was still raspy, and her speech was far more slurred than she would've liked. But she assumed that she was on some pretty heavy meds.

"That's good." He nodded his head, walking around to her left side. "Pain means your body is trying to heal itself. Now," he looked to both her and her father, "I need to check your incision. Sir, do you want to stay?"

Her dad's eyes met hers and he shrugged. "It's up to you Katie-bug. You want me to stay, I'll stay. Or go, if you want."

The use of her childhood nickname tugged at her heartstrings. "No. I want you to stay." She paused, mouth open, not even sure of how she felt about feeling so out of herself. "Hold my hand?"

He didn't even blink. "Absolutely."

With a hum of his understanding, the doctor gingerly folded back the sheets on Kate's bed, and gave her notice that he was unsnapping the side closure of her thin hospital gown.

The cold hospital air hit her side, making her shiver. However she could clearly tell where her scar would be, when she felt an absence of air over a line of skin. It was as if the flowing air in the room suddenly went stagnant over that particular spot.

It took guts, but she bit the bullet – a really, terribly, appropriate inappropriate metaphor – and looked down to where the doctor's gentle fingers were gently applying pressure to the area.

The line was maybe four inches long, and beamed an angry shade of pink that was trying so hard to be red. The skin was raised, and pursed with stitches, thin lines of purple keeping her whole. At least, she thought, there really wasn't much blood to show.

"It looks good Kate. The bullet didn't hit anything major. I'm not going to lie, you lost a lot of blood while you were in surgery, but you're a very lucky woman." He peeled off his gloves, dropping them in the biohazard bin near the door. "It may not feel like it right now, but you will be back to your normal self." He took her chart from the nurse, who had apparently been reading the monitors while he checked her incision. Kate hadn't even noticed.

She swallowed the lump that had jumped into her throat. "So, what sort of timeline am I looking at?"

"Well," he glanced at her chart, "I want to keep you here for a couple more days. At least until you can get from the bed to the bathroom completely on your own." Suddenly he was staring her down, like her mother used to do when she was young and stupid. "That doesn't mean get up and try the second I leave this room."

"Got it."

"After we decide you're well enough to be home, I want someone living with you, to be on the safe side. And you'll be in physical therapy until your department deems you ready for field work again. At my best guess, I'd say you're about six months out from 'normal'."

Slowly, as he spoke, her grip slipped from her father's. She sighed, not pleased with the diagnosis. But, she thought, as the breath she inhaled made her chest pinch, six months of rehab was better than being dead.

"Okay." She looked at her doctor. "I guess I have no choice, huh?"

"No, you don't." Her father piped in.

Dr. Kovax gave his nurse the nod to the door. "I'm going to get going, leave you to rest. Which you need to make sure you actually do," he stressed. "If you need anything at all just hit the call button."

"Got it." She nodded, watched him leave, closing the door behind himself. There was an awkward silence looming in the room until she mustered up the guts to speak. "I'm so sorry Dad."

He took her hand in his again after scooting his chair closer to her side. "I know you are sweetheart. But there's no way you could've known this would happen."

"No, Dad, that's just it." She was trying so hard to hold back her tears. "I think…I think I knew that they would come for me. Even though Montgomery got our main guy before….there are still more arms, and I know that someone's still out somewhere planning to get me because I-"

"Now, don't you talk like that Katie-bug. I don't want to hear that out of your mouth. Nothing is going to happen, not with that team that's sitting out there waiting to see you." There was a firmness in his face that Kate hadn't seen in a long, long, long, time. Not since she was seventeen and broke her curfew by two hours and came home smelling of cheap alcohol.

"Dad, I don't know how long I was out for, but I think you spent too much time with Martha. That would be pretty impressive acting if I weren't a Detective."

He let out a long breath, running a hand over his head. "Almost eight hours."

"What?"

"You were out for almost eight hours. Longest eight hours of my life. Worse than when your mother was in labor with you. And you're right. It scares the hell out of me to think of you off chasing killers everyday. But I like to think that I raised a pretty smart woman who knows how to handle herself."

"Daddy…" Her voice came out small and childish.

"You know, a few days ago I went and asked Rick Castle to talk you out of getting so involved. I thought you'd listen to him. But every person who's out in that waiting room knew that you wouldn't give in. I guess I was in denial."

It took an exorbitant amount of energy, but she brought her hand to rest on his forearm. "I'm so, so sorry Dad. But, I can't let this go. I just…I don't even know what I'd be if I stopped."

"Katie," he leaned forward, "this has been your life for so long. And I'm proud that you're so determined. You're just like your mom in that, you know that?"

The pressure in her eyes was astounding, but she wasn't letting a single tear escape. She was as stubborn as her mother, she knew it, and apparently as stubborn as her father as well.

"You would still be the most amazing Detective in the NYPD, Kate. And I can be okay with that. I'll still worry about you. All the time. But I can be okay just waiting for you to call me every night like we always. Most importantly, you are still you."

"But Dad, I don't know what that means." She whined.

"You are still Katherine Beckett. The same little girl who demanded that she be allowed climb the tree in our backyard on her own, and insisted that her arm didn't hurt after she fell on it, even though it was broken in three places. The same thirteen year-old who lectured her mother in the New York Public Library that "young adult fiction" was for teenagers who couldn't grasp real-world issues in classic literature. The same beautiful, confident, intelligent woman who walks the city everyday like she owns it."

His hands were laced together so tightly that she could feel the tension in the muscles of his arm.

"And you will always be my little girl, who saved my life, and reminded me that you are everything to live for."

"Dad," she whispered, "I can't make a promise to you that I'll stop looking. Not right now. But, I can tell you that I will always count on my team to have my back. I won't do anything without them anymore. I trust them with my life."

"Even Castle?"

That stopped her dead in her tracks. Her mind backtracked, thought of all those cases, all those times that he didn't stay in the car, those times that he followed her into dangerous scenes, trusting her completely. She felt the throbbing in her chest and knew.

"Yeah. Even Castle."

Jim watched her think. Clearly, her energy was starting to flag. Her face had flushed, and the strength had fled her fingers.

"Then I think you should probably get some rest. You're going to have a lot of visitors soon." She only nodded, smiling faintly as he stood. "I'm going to go get something to eat. You've still got an IV for a few more hours, but as soon as you've got the 'go' for solid food I'll find you whatever you want, okay?"

She yawned, not happy with how tired she felt again, and so suddenly. "Kay. I love you Daddy."

He leaned over and kissed the top of his head. Kate could tell that he was afraid to try to hug her, so she did her best to wrap her arms up and around the one he had braced on the bed next to her. It was better than nothing.

"I love you too, Katie. More than you know." He slowly backed up and made for the door, pausing just before he pulled on the knob. "Someone will be here when you wake up again. I promise."

"I know." She nodded, watching him go.

It wasn't until the door was closed, and she was alone with her monitors that she let herself go. Feeling terribly small in her crisp hospital bed, she let herself cry, and mourn for everything she thought she knew.

Review?

:D