Post-Headhunters. It's not like there are already 4587650847563849709318 of th- OH WAIT.

Well. Too late now.

Her eyes blinked open. It took Kate a moment to focus, her gaze blurring dazedly before she fixed on her father, his face soft and worn and terribly, terribly relieved. Her left eye wouldn't open all the way; it felt stiff and warm, and her cheek was sore. She swallowed through a dry mouth, licked her lips. They felt swollen.

Oh.

She remembered what happened.

"Dad?"

"Katie." He leaned over, kissed her forehead carefully. "How are you feeling?"

"Unnnnh." Her eyelashes fluttered a little. "Castle?"

"Rick's here."

She turned her head, grimacing a little at the tight, sharp pain radiating through her neck and shoulders and chest, but she looked up to find Castle standing by the door, watching her silently. "Castle."

"Hey."

Jim took a quick glance between them, a knowing look on his face. "Why don't I step out, go tell the others you're awake. Give you two some time together."

Jim left. The room got very, very quiet. Castle stuffed his hands in his pockets, awkwardly came closer to the bed. He had so much to say, but no idea where to start. He'd learned too much today to pick one topic to begin.

(Enough to get over the fact that she hurt me.)

Kate swallowed slowly. "Alexis?"

"She's fine." He'd never been more relieved in his life as he was holding his crying daughter an hour ago. "Giving her statement right now."

Kate's eyes shut, a look of relief settling over her pale, bruised face. Her left eye was swollen almost shut, and the blood was gone but the bruises were still livid. "The girl?"

"With her family."

She nodded faintly, her eyes still closed. He didn't know what to say (Do you? Did you mean it?). Until he saw it, the subtle sparkle as a few tears trickled down her cheeks. She didn't even bother wiping them away. Oh, Kate.

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head, her hair rustling against the pillow. "Didn't know what to do. I was useless. Should have – "

"Kate. You saved their lives." He tried to continue, but had to swallow the embarrassing lump in his throat before he could. "You saved both of them."

She turned her face away. "I didn't do anything."

(Kate, did you mean it?)

"You sacrificed yourself. You took the heat. You could have fought back, but you didn't. You let them hurt you to keep the girls safe." She glanced up at him but didn't say anything. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen you do."

"I'm sorry, Castle. I'm sorry she was there. She shouldn't have had to – "

"It's not your fault, Kate. It wasn't your fault."

It shouldn't have happened. She shouldn't have been alone in the first place, but Castle was gone (again), the uniforms were outside, and Lanie had stepped out to grab something from the forensics van, leaving Alexis setting down evidence markers while Kate took notes.

The victim's (now orphaned) three-year-old daughter shouldn't have been hiding in a cupboard.

And the killers shouldn't have been hiding in the bedroom.

Why is he like this?

Kate tried to breathe around the dull ache in her chest. What was going on? For weeks, Castle looked through her, not at her. He even stopped bringing coffee for a while. He avoided the precinct. He found another detective to shadow. He didn't care. He avoided every chance to be alone with her.

…and now he was taking care of her. Looking at her gently. Tenderly. Like she mattered.

(Like there might be hope again.)

"Kate." His voice was soft, low. "Alexis told me. She told me what you said in there. What you asked her to tell me."

Her heart leapt into her throat.

She knew exactly what he was talking about.

The taller one was wearing heavy boots. The toes were pointed. They bit sharply into her ribs every time he kicked. His partner's shoes were blunt. They hurt dully. Slower but lasting.

Kate hit the floor again and didn't move. Her whole body ached, the sharp pain in her ribs blazing, her head throbbing. She tried to plant her hands, push herself up to sitting, but her arms gave out and she collapsed again, breathing hard, gritting her teeth against the pain. She wouldn't cry out. Wouldn't give them the satisfaction. They wanted a punching bag? Fine. She was a big girl. She could handle it. As long as they left the girls out of this. If she were alone, she might fight back. But not when two innocent girls were depending on her. They needed her. Alexis hugged the little girl close, tucked into the corner of the room. The men were ignoring them. They wanted a more satisfying target.

She just had to keep them occupied. They were angry enough that they weren't watching outside. The uniforms had to be on their way in. She just needed to buy time.

The taller one grabbed her arms, held them behind her back. Kate didn't struggle. Didn't want to make him angry enough to lash out at the others. Didn't want to give him a reason to do more. He wrenched her shoulder and she hissed in pain. Blood streamed down her face, warm and thick. Her whole body hurt. She was getting lightheaded. The other one landed hit after hit to her face, until she could feel the blood streaming from her nose and lips, her eyes and cheek almost numb. The edges of her vision started to get hazy and grey.

The one in front of her reached into his jacket. Pulled out a knife.

Oh, God. No.

Not in front of them.

"Alexis," she whispered, too softly for the little girl to hear. "Alexis, tell – tell your dad – that I love him. I love him."

"Kate?" Alexis' eyes went wide. She understood what Kate was doing.

"Just tell him." Kate swallowed, fighting to stay awake even as her vision started to blur. "I love him."

(Since I don't think I'll get the chance now.)

"Alexis, cover her eyes."

Kate clutched weakly at the blanket. She could feel it coming. I waited too long. He's trying to calm me down. He's going to leave.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm not – what you want – " her chest was getting tight, her throat closing up with panic – "but – I didn't think I had any more time, and I couldn't go without – "

"Kate – Kate, shhh – "

"I'm sorry if you didn't want – "

"Kate, just breathe." The heart monitor was picking up, beeping a dangerously hectic rhythm. She felt his hand on hers, tentative and warm, smoothing her tense fingers. "You need to breathe." She shut her eyes, trying to calm down.

…but if he didn't care, if he didn't want it, why would he still be here?

She hated having this conversation this way. Stuck. Helpless. Weak. She needed to fight, not lie motionless and sore and useless and wait for him to tell her it was all over. Please, Castle. Don't tell me it's too late.

"Dad!"

Alexis ran into his arms, crying, and buried her face in his chest. He took a deep breath, some of the terrible icy fear melting away. Alexis was here. She was fine. She was safe. It was over.

"Castle." Ryan came jogging over. "What the hell? What took you so long?"

"I was at the publisher's. Why? What exactly happened?" He was at Black Pawn till he got the call. Heard the words 'your daughter' and 'hostage.' Stopped breathing.

"Beckett's in the ambulance." There was a layer of something in Ryan's voice, a shadow of anger in his eyes. Something suspiciously like Why the hell weren't you here? Why was she alone? "We were trying to tell you. She's hurt bad."

Castle turned around, saw the ambulance at the back of the crowd of police. He only got a brief glimpse of dark hair and a bloody face before the ambulance doors shut, the ambulance speeding off without pause.

"Ryan. What happened?"

"Kate, you need to calm down or they're going to put you under again."

She took a long breath through her nose (it still ached to breathe deeply, and she knew recovery was going to be hell) and tried to collect herself. Her hands twitched. Her body felt frail, broken, her whole torso heavy and faintly sore even through the haze of painkillers.

But at least he's talking to me.

His thumb traced a slow pattern over the back of her hand, and for some reason, that was the hardest of all. She tightened her jaw. She didn't cry in front of Alexis or the little girl. She had to be strong now.

She tried to sit up, but even tensing to move hurt so sharply that she gave up, gasping, her heart pounding. Castle was there instantly, settling her back down, reaching for the water beside her bed so she could drink.

(It's not coffee. But it's close.)

"I hate this," she mumbled, gritting her teeth. "I hate being weak."

"You're not weak, Kate. You're hurt. You don't have to hide it."

"It's not – it's not just that." She shut her eyes briefly. "I don't know how to do anything right."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't even – I couldn't say it until it was too late," she managed, turning her face away. "I'm sick of waiting for death, Castle. I shouldn't have waited. I don't – I don't know why it's all been so weird these past few weeks – " why you've been looking at me like you want me to hurt – "but I'm so sick of being away from you, Castle. I don't want this all to go away before we even give it a chance. I'm not perfect. I'm a mess right now. But I – "

"Kate." He pressed a gentle finger to her lips. "I know it's been bad. I know. I'm sorry. I've been a jerk. And I should never have left you alone today. You shouldn't have been alone – "

"It's not – "

"I heard you," he said softly. "In interrogation. I know you remember that day in the cemetery."

Her heart froze in her chest. "You heard – "

Of course. That terrible bombing case. The one day she lost control. Said too much in interrogation. Didn't even stop to think that someone might hear. Might think it meant I don't want you.

(Oh, Kate. What have you done?)

"I thought you didn't care about me. I thought you were just tolerating me, that it meant I never had a chance with you," he whispered. "And I didn't mean to hurt you. But I needed space. If I ever had a chance to get over you. I couldn't sit beside you every day and look into your eyes and tell myself I didn't care about you. It hurt too much."

His fingers threaded through hers and she gripped his hand, relishing the contact. The lifeline. The guarantee that he was here. Her eyes were stinging again. She gave up trying to stop it. It didn't matter. All that mattered was I pushed him away. I didn't even realize it.

"Do you want to do this now? Do it right." He brushed the back of her hand gently. "We're both awake. Both alive for once. And both being honest."

She nodded slowly, eyes locked with his. Was this it? Really it? Another chance?

"Kate." He paused, letting his hand slip from hers. She wanted it back. "Do you care about me?"

"Yes." Her eyes blurred with tears.

"Do you remember what I said to you after you got shot?"

"Yes." Her voice came out as little more than a whisper, but it was still clear.

"Was it – do you – do you not – " He didn't seem to know how to ask it.

But she took a breath and cut him off. "Castle – I'm not dying now – will you – "

"What?"

"Will you say it again? Please?"

He stared. Almost didn't believe. But she was watching him so hopefully, no guile in her eyes. No pity. Only pleading. And she asked – she wanted –

(To be fair, last time he said it, she was more than a little preoccupied.)

But she was being honest.

He could too.

"Kate. Timing's never been my thing. But I love you."

Her eyes welled up, tears spilling down her cheeks. This stupid weakness, the stupid inability to do anything but lie still and beg and cry. She hated it. He deserved more than a broken, bruised mess of a woman who couldn't move.

She felt him wiping them away, his hands careful on her bruised face. His touch was delicate, whisper-soft over the sensitive skin. She took a long, careful breath.

I thought I'd never get to say it.

"Castle, I love you too."

Her eyes were going dark, the blade was coming closer, and she tried to stay awake – she tried – but there was nothing left. Nothing.

Her last conscious thought was Just let her tell him. He needs to know.

And then there was a bang, and yelling, but she was already gone.

He had to kiss her carefully – bracing himself on the edge of her bed, leaning cautiously, careful not to catch any of the wires – but then his lips were on hers, soft, whisper-light, warm, and so utterly, unstoppably perfect because it meant this is it.

(She meant it.)

(She means it.)

(We both do.)

Jim Beckett took his time on the way back to his daughter's room, now holding a pretty bouquet of pansies he thought she'd like. He'd seen the way she and Rick had been looking at each other. He knew Rick's daughter had been involved in this terrible day. And he'd quietly decided that they needed time.

The door was open, and as he came to it, he heard soft voices. Couldn't quite make out the words.

He paused just outside the doorway, peered in, and saw them. Rick was sitting beside her bed, one hand clasped in hers, and the look of utter adoration on his face, the warmth in his eyes – Jim's breath caught in his throat. He knew a man in love when he saw one.

He was about to step away, give them another minute, when he heard Rick chuckle.

"We're going to have a long talk about not waiting for imminent death to admit we love each other," the writer murmured, smoothing her hair back from her battered face. "But sometime when you're not under the influence of heavy narcotics."

Oh.

Well.

Jim meant to leave them alone a bit longer, but Kate must have looked up, glanced out the door. "Dad?"

"Hi, sweetheart."

He stepped inside the room, seeing Kate's eyes light up as she saw the flowers. She'd loved pansies since she was a little girl. Purple had always been her favorite color.

He kept his mouth shut about what he'd just seen. No need to start grilling Rick on his intentions. Not yet, anyway.

Rick quickly pulled another chair over for him, and as the three of them talked quietly. Kate eventually drifted back to sleep, Rick stepped out to take a call from Alexis, and Jim kept quiet watch over his sleeping daughter, watching her slow, even breathing and wondering if maybe, just maybe, Richard Castle might be his son-in-law someday.