A/N: Amazing, amazing readers. I'm a slow writer-I'll admit it. But, this awesome feedback(and my love for these two characters) has got me wanting to write ALL the time. I'm still slow, but I'm doing it a lot more. So, thanks. Also, I really appreciate all the prayers and nice thoughts you guys are sending regarding my mom and her upcoming surgery. Many thanks there, too.

P.S. These characters still don't cooperate or go in any direction that I prod them in.

Disclaimer: Don't sue me.

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He awakens to his face smashed against the glass of the car window, a dull torment pulling at his right side…and cool fingers sliding along his neck, cheek and forehead. Kate's fingers.

Her touch always serves to make him feel restored, make his aches lessen. Oh, but that was a different Kate. Or a different me, he realizes. She's the same person, but every interaction he's had with her has been clouded by his feelings. He's found himself looking back on all the times he was sure she was right there with him, the light in her eyes, smiles, lingering touches. He realizes now that she was only an oasis, a fabricated refuge to a man parched by love, seeing what he needed everywhere it never existed.

He blinks slowly and clears his throat. "Where are you taking me?" He asks the question as he surveys their surroundings. They're clearly outside of the city, driving slowly down a street lined with well-manicured trees and quaint houses.

She removes her hand from his skin at realizing he's awake, and he feels like a fool for missing it. "You're not the only one who 'knows a guy'" She smiles at little at his questioning gaze. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit."

"I imagine."

"What do you mean, you 'know a guy'? A doctor?"

She hums a response as she pulls into a driveway towards the end of the block. She kills the engine, unbuckles her seatbelt, then pushes the button to loosen his and leans back into her headrest on an exhale.

"Is it Josh?" This doesn't look like a Doctor Motorcyle Boy type of abode, but hell, what does he know anymore? He does know that he doesn't want Kate's ex-boyfriend touching him. 'First, do no harm' apparently didn't apply last fall when he shoved him into a wall and probably would have done worse damage to the Hippocratic Oath if he hadn't been rescued by his daughter. If this is Josh's house, wound be damned, he's walking home. As he stares out the windshield and into the expansive front yard all he can picture are tiny Kates twirling in the grass, playing hopscotch on the sidewalk, laughing and calling for mommy and daddy to join them. In this fantasy, he used to see himself sitting on the porch with Kate, drinking lemonade, stealing deep kisses. Now, the image of Josh flashes into his place. 'I know I'm not going to be able to have the type of relationship I want until that wall comes down'. He naively thought she was talking about him, that day on the swings, but maybe she was talking about Josh. Maybe her wall came down.

"What? Josh? N-, just no." She shakes off another thought and looks at him like he has two heads.

Well, that's something, at least.

"Howard Adams, retired M.D. Long story," His eyes must beseech for her to continue because she does. "One of my first cases in Homicide was a murdered wife and teenaged daughter, robbery gone wrong in a convenience store—it went cold, but I could never let it go. Howard was the husband, the father, away at a medical conference at the time—and he couldn't let it go either. He came in every week for an update, but there just wasn't anything. I couldn't stand to file it away, so I took it home with me. He had been left with nothing, Castle, and I couldn't give him closure; I knew that feeling. Every time he came to the precinct, he looked more hollowed out, resigned. I recognized that look from my own father. Dad was newly sober and this man was a fresh alcoholic. I introduced them, hoping on a long shot that dad could help him in some way."

"And?" He was intrigued. He thought about simultaneously losing both Kate and Alexis from his life and shuddered.

"A tip came forward a year later and we caught the guy. Howie and Dad still meet at least once a week for lunch." She smiled at that. He couldn't help but return it. "He helped me a lot…this past summer," she pauses, as if she's letting more out than she wants, but she keeps going. "I was spiraling. And selfish. I left the hospital against doctor's orders and wasn't healed nearly enough to take care of myself and I didn't want anyone else to have to take care of me. But he insisted on helping Dad with my rehabilitation." She looks at him and seems embarrassed to have said all of that.

"I'm glad you had someone to help you." When I couldn't.

"Yeah, well, I called him on the way over here and he's ready for you. He runs a volunteer clinic in Brooklyn and told me he'll do whatever he can to help with his supplies from around the house, but he can't guarantee you won't need a hospital."

"Okay." He's cool with that. He thought for sure they were heading straight to the hospital after leaving the precinct anyway. She reaches over him, toying with the seatbelt that she has previously released. It's stuck on the edge of his jacket and she's forced- waist over console-to lean into his space with both arms to untangle it without shifting him too much. He's sure he could help somewhat, but he's frozen, mesmerized by her scent, warmth over him. Her fingers brush his bare abdomen and he jerks in response, and then groans from the sudden movement.

"Sorry," she whispers, and his left hand finds her hip, trying to steady her as she inclines even further into his side of the vehicle. "Whew. There," she puffs out a hot breath in exertion and it fans his chest where the coat has opened. He's completely freed from the seatbelt and it's slowly rucking back into its home by the door. "You ready?"

He breaks eye contact, has to. "As I'll ever be."

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Despite the fantasies of astronauts and storm chasers, of fighter pilots and, yes, CIA agents, this is the type of man he hopes his father is. Bright, genuine smile, youthful, kind eyes despite his silver hair, with a gentle touch and a concerned countenance for him, a man he doesn't even know.

"Alright, son, this is going to hurt."

Kate grabs his hand just as he feels a strong series of pulls down his right side. He grunts against the pain and squeezes her hand, not wanting to, but needing, needing, needing her. The physician has been explaining what he's doing as he's doing it, step by step. He's talking to Kate, but Castle is sure he's mostly doing it to try to distract him. He's trying to be manly here, but damn if this isn't excruciating. Kate still has his hand and it feels too good; he likes the hurt better. Things with Kate will always hurt eventually, he's found out—better to feel the heat of pain in the present than to hide it and be scalded twice as severely later. He knows that burn all too well. He shakes his fingers free of hers.

"Give me just a sec here." The doc is having to remove the stitches that were shoddily seamed into him earlier. Castle bites the inside of his cheek to combat the discomfort, but stops when the metallic taste of blood hits his tongue. "Ah ha. Looky what I found. This little guy was probably causing you quite a bit of needless pain." Dr. Adams holds up his hand to show Castle and Beckett a small piece of metal being squeezed by his tweezers.

"Is that-?"

"Tip of a knife? Looks like it."

"Huh." If this was happening to someone else (or in one of his books), Castle would think that it was pretty cool. But as it is now, the novelty of peril and tragedy is starting to wear thin. Leave it for Nikki and Rook, he thinks, then remembers that they may be towards the end of their story. For years, the prospect of something new—new characters and new adventures—always excited him. Now, his stomach churns at the thought.

"Almost done here, Mr. Castle. I flushed the wound out, which should minimize your risk of infection. One more stich here and we're all done. When was your last tetanus shot?"

"Um, about eighteen months or so ago. Maybe two years?"

"You should be fine there, then." Castle feels another couple of tugs at the site of his injury, then he sees Dr. Adams ("call me Howie") gathering up his medical tools and clearing the small table he was using. "Let me grab some gauze and a script for the pain. Be right back." He holds up a finger as he heads down a hallway and rounds a corner, out of sight.

"Nice guy."

"The nicest."

"Can I pay him?"

She shrugs. "He won't take it."

"A donation to his clinic, then? I can do it anonymously, if you don't think he'd accept that either."

"You will do no such thing, young man." Castle and Beckett both look guilty as he walks back into the room, palming a wad of gauze, with a roll of medical tape looped around a finger. "I'm doing a favor for a friend. No more and no less."

"But—"

"No buts. The more favors I do, the more 'I owe you one's I have stored up. I love those. I usually cash them in for homemade dinners."

"Homemade take-out from Kate, then?" Castle jokes, and the physician chortles a deep laugh. Kate sends a faux glare his way, but it's accompanied by a huge, optimistic smile and he regrets his words immediately. He doesn't want her smile, her 'this is my partner, Richard Castle' smile. His sharp mind knows the truth, but his heart, the traitorous muscle, still reacts to it, still sees deeper meaning there.

"I don't know, Rick," he drawls out. "Katie makes a mean lasagna." She raises an eyebrow at him in playful defiance, but he doesn't have the energy to banter with her now. "You've really never made it for him?" She shrugs, as if the thought hasn't occurred to her, but that she's open to the possibility. He doesn't want her damn lasagna. "You know what they say, honey, about men and good food, the heart and the stomach." He winks towards Rick and he's dumbstruck. Yeah, he knows the saying, but now his heart is in his stomach.

"Howie—",Kate starts, a pained expression coloring her face.

She looks like she wants to cover her ears and lalalalala until this conversation is decidedly over. "You know your mom and dad did it like this. The stubborn will they, won't they thing. Your dad has told me all these stories. I never met your mom, but I get the feeling she was hardheaded like someone else I know." He smirks. Kate is staring at the man, all wistful and hurt, and…something he doesn't recognize. "Your dad doesn't regret their story, but time sure has a way of thieving life from you and making you wish you could buy more of it. Every second counts." He speaks from experience, and the pain of losing loved ones washes over his face, he doesn't even try to mask it, that part of him. But, it fades after a moment and he looks between the two of them with a smile. "I know, I know. Mind my own business. Got it." Castle just wants to lay it out and tell this nice, match-making gentleman that he loves this deceitful woman, but that he might want to save his breath for a twosome with some hope.

Nothing else is said while his injury is patched, taped, and he has prescriptions for an antibiotic and 'a little something for the pain' in his hand. Kate snatches them from him without asking and he watches her fold the sheets in half and stick them into the front pocket of her jeans. She then leans over to the doctor and kisses him on one cheek while patting the other and whispering a 'thank you so much' to him. Rick expresses the same with a handshake and a promise to keep in touch. He doesn't have the heart to tell him that probably won't happen and it saddens him on levels other than the obvious. He genuinely likes this man.

"I think you're going to be fine. I need you to keep an eye out for fever and infection. I don't think there was any internal damage, but I can't tell for sure without a CT scan and X-Rays. You're going to want someone with you for at least the first twenty-four hours, just to be on the look-out for worst-case scenarios. You may think you can determine yourself if it's getting worse, but it'll hit you fast. Let someone take care of you and don't be stupid." He can feel Kate's eyes on him as he nods. She's nodding too and he thinks she might as well be calling him an idiot. He knows this whole situation was reckless and irresponsible, doesn't need her admonishing glower to remind him.

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I'll drop you off at your loft, then go get your prescription filled. Are Martha and Alexis home? I can call and have one of them meet us by the curb to help you in.

"Um." He debates lying to her, but he's pretty sure she's not going to let him out of the car without someone there to assist him. "Mother's in the Hamptons for a couple of days. Alexis is in California with Meredith for the week." He'll leave out the part where he forced them both out of the loft because he is sure he's having a nervous breakdown and he doesn't need them hovering with 'what's wrong, daddy?' and 'oh, Richard' every time he drops his smile.

"You can't stay by yourself," she says as she pulls in front of his building, in a no-parking zone. Perks of being a cop.

"I'll be fine."

"You probably will be, but that's not the point. Howie said—"

"I know what he said," he sighs. And truthfully, the thought of being at home, dying from a veiled internal injury isn't appealing, no matter how morose he's feeling.

"What about…?"

"What?"

"Your…girlfriend?" She whispers the term on a question. She's staring straight ahead, watching pedestrians cross the street at the corner of his building.

"I don't-. Jacinda?" Off her nod, "She's not…around. It wasn't serious." It wasn't anything, truth be told. But he's not telling Kate that when this woman kissed him and unbuttoned his shirt, he groaned 'Kate' around her tongue. He stopped, embarrassed and ashamed, but she said she knew there was someone else on his mind and that was okay for now. She kissed him again. He pushed her away then, whispering apologies as he called her a cab. He hasn't seen her since.

"Well," she looks over her left shoulder and eases back out into traffic. "Looks like it's just you and me."

A/N: I was going to do an April Fool's joke by saying that this is "Complete" but I'm not that mean. -) Feedback?