There's a reason this episode is one of my favorites. Hope you enjoy!

"Drink," She said, passing him the warm mug of coffee. Kate sat on the edge of the armchair across from him, her eyes heavy.

"Thanks." He replied quietly. It was the first words he'd said since they'd finished the incident report. He's still out there. And he'll kill again. He's going to come back for me, for us. He thought, taking a sip. "I should've aimed for the head."

"Castle…" she whispered, shaking her head and looking at the floor.

"It's true."

Cold. Emotionless. He was taking this really hard.

"Maybe. But you didn't. And that says more about you than you know." He scoffed, shaking his head and clenching the mug tightly. "It says you're human, not a psychopath. It says you've got more to live for than death."

He looked up, found her eyes and it all made sense. All those times he'd thought he'd lost her. She was a cop. It was in the job description. He should've known there would be some rouge killers, a few car accidents, even the shooting was always a possibility. But all the times he'd been in danger, she was there next to him. The freezer. The bomb. The untimely drive through the Hudson. The only time he'd been alone was with Tyson. He saw it in her eyes, the bags under them, her lips trying to conceal the pain swelling in her throat.

He sighed, his eyes heavy with the same pain and anguish, and put down the mug. He raised his arm and bowed his head, and opened the rest of the sofa to her.

Kate put her mug down and covered her face with her hands. Her chest heaved as she sat next to him, sobbing silently. She tried to hold it in, she really did. After all, he was the one almost killed by a serial killer. But she'd come within arm's reach of losing the only man who's ever made sense. She'd almost lost her everything. It wasn't about the books, or the job, it was about them. And their story wasn't about to end with him being hacked to pieces by Jerry Tyson, or with her being shot on that bridge. Not like that. Not yet. There was so much left.

He wrapped his arms around her as her tears began to saturate his shirt. Her throat was screaming and her eyes burned. She'd cried more in the past few days than she had in as long as she could remember. His eyes were clenched so tight his head began to hurt as tears welled and slowly leaked down his face. He pulled her closer still, biceps burning, but he wasn't about to leave her. Not now, not ever.

She wiggled under his arms and wiped her sleeve across her face. He did the same, keeping his left arm securely around her fragile frame.

"Castle, I need a tissue. This is gross." She muttered, a small smile making its way across her face.

He laughed quietly, reaching behind him for the box that rested on the end table.

"God, we're such a mess." She said, face half-buried in Kleenex.

"Such a mess." He chuckled, kissing her forehead softly. "Such a mess."

"I can't believe you broke out of prison," she huffed. "You know you're not Harrison Ford, right?"

"Of course not. That'd make you Tommy Lee Jones. And that's just…no."

She smiled, allowing herself to sink a little lower into his shoulder.

"The boys know." Her was voice an octave lower than before, no louder than a whisper into the emptiness of the air around them.

"Hmm?"

"About us. Ryan told Esposito. Lanie knows too."

"Good. I'm tired of hiding things from them."

"Yeah," She said, stifling an embarrassed smile. "You hungry?"

"I could eat."

She sighed out of his arms, immediately missing the warmth and stability. She didn't make it more than a step before he tugged her back, enveloping her with a kiss so soft and tender it made her knees buckle.

"Come on, Castle. Breakfast doesn't make itself."

They ate in silence, quietly and simply. Natural. That's what this feels like, she thought. Natural. She looked at him from across the table, fork resting on her lip as it curled upward into a smile.

Katherine Beckett, when did you become such a sap?

It was the truth. She was not only soft, but mushy, sentimental, nauseatingly enamored with the man who sat just a few feet from her. She caught herself swimming in the blue of his eyes, tracing imaginary lines through his hair. It always smelled good. He always smelled good. A subtle mix of cologne, linen and charm, if that could even muster a scent, it could only belong to Richard Castle.

"Like what you see?"

"Huh?" she said, her daydream rudely interrupted, scrambled eggs falling from the fork. "I… what?"

"Knew it. You're cute when you're flustered."

"Watch it, pretty boy."

"Handsome."

"Sure." She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

"Hmm." He lifted the mug of coffee to his lips, glancing over the lip of the mug to see her smiling. It still wasn't registering in his mind that Kate Beckett, the Kate Beckett, was giggling with him over pancakes. Even after everything that had happened in the last two days. He'd been arrested, spent the night in holding, been confronted by the most lethal, sadistic killer he'd never hoped to meet, escaped from prison, shot a man repeatedly in the chest, and was alive to crack bad jokes with the woman he loved.

It might have still been the adrenaline talking, but in that moment, Castle knew he would someday spend the rest of his life making her laugh over pancakes.

"Castle?" The words brought in back to reality, back to her.

"Yeah?"

"Please don't do this again."

"I promise."

"Good. I just - " Her eyes found his as the words, too honest, spilled from her heart, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He stood up, rounded the table and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed her crown of hair and whispered in her ear, "I'm not going anywhere."

She turned to face him, cupping his face in her hands. Her forehead rested against his. "I love you. So much." Her lips met his, her body filling with warmth. "So much, Castle."

"I know" He replied curtly. He tightened the embrace, pulling her to him.