The room was incredibly bright when Richard opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. He moved his hand, to find an IV restricting his movements. There was a chair beside his bed, but it was empty. He was alone, with no pleasant smiles to greet him as he woke up and returned to the world of the living. There were no happy tears to be shed over him. He would settle for his angry mother, if it meant he didn't have to be alone. He didn't know what day it was, or what time it was, and he couldn't reach the controller for the television that hung in the corner of the room – not that he wanted to watch television. He would just like to have the option.

He winced against the lights above his bed. They irritated him so much that he was content to keep his eyes closed – just for a while. He could hear the bustling of people just outside the door to his private hospital room. He tried to ignore it. He was thirsty and the back of his throat itched. He tried to ignore it. When the door to his room opened, he tried to ignore it, too.

There was movement next to him and he listened intently. The legs of the chair shifted on the floor as someone sat down. They set something down on the table next to the bed, and he was all too familiar with the sound. It was a coffee cup – half empty. Already the smell of it was wafting up his nostrils. He could taste it, and now he craved it. There was more rustling and the television flicked on.

What the hell is this? Richard thought to himself. I don't even get a hand held? As he lay there, he almost laughed at how pathetic his own thoughts sounded.

Slowly, he opened an eye, but he couldn't quite make out who was sitting beside him through his peripherals. Maybe it was Ryan or Espo. That might explain why his hand wasn't being properly held, as her proper hospital decorum. He decided to chance it, and turned his head just slightly. Just enough to get a look. And there she was, sitting there with a leg tucked under her and her long layered brown hair dangling down on both sides of her face. She was entranced in the television, watching an episode of some soap opera he couldn't quite make out. Who the hell was he kidding – it was Young and the Restless. When a man worked from home, certain addictions happened. He just never imagined that she would find herself so engrossed in the show, though.

He didn't clear his throat, or say anything to draw her attention to him. As he looked at her, he remembered everything. I want you to watch as I take her life. Kate. Despite the fact that he was the one in the hospital, she had no idea how close to death she had gotten. She stepped right up to the door of the underworld and knocked. Fortunately, no one answered. One day, that door was going to open for her, and Death was going to welcome her with open arms like a long lost friend, and he knew it was going to be his fault, as it was his fault with Tyson on the bridge.

He debated feigning sleep again, but found he had his reasons not to.

When a commercial broke up the show, Kate turned her head towards her partner to find his eyes staring right back at her. "Oh my God," she exclaimed, untucking her leg from under her. The television controller fell to the hard floor and the batteries popped out and rolled away. She didn't care as she pulled her chair closer to him and took his hand in hers. For a writer, he had soft skin – even his hands – and she loved that about him. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Since before you came back… with coffee," he informed her and tilted his head to look at the white cup. It was drawing him in. He needed coffee, and he started to reach for it like a man possessed.

"No," she scolded him, and resisted the urge to slap his hand as though he was a misbehaving child. "You can't have that." He grumbled, but she was satisfied when he put his arm back down at his side. "How can, however, have this." She lifted a pitcher of water and poured some into a small cup. Richard wrinkled his nose. "Alright, come on. Take a sip."

She hovered over him as she tipped the cup towards his mouth. He accepted the room temperature liquid gratefully, as it relieved the itch at the back of his throat. He could smell her. Despite the flowers in the room, he could smell Kate, he could feel her warmth. She radiated compassion, just now, the same way it radiated off of her when she delivered justice for a victim. She had a light, and he refused to see it extinguished. "How you feeling?" Kate asked as she set the cup back down on the table. Her hands immediately found his again. Her touch was electrifying, sending sharp tingles up and down his spine.

"Good," he replied simply.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Why did this seem so familiar to him? Oh, right, because once upon a time, she had been shot, and it was at this point in their conversation when she lied to his face. He thought he had moved on from that, but it still hung around in the corner of his mind, ready to pop out at a moment like this and remind him of the negative aspects of their history together. "I wish I didn't," he said finally.

"You scared the hell out of me." There was a sadness in her eyes. It was a genuine truth that accompanied her statement.

He wanted to tell her to join the club; that maybe now she would finally get to see what it was like to be on the other side. He settled with, "I didn't mean to." He paused for a second and swallowed the lump in his throat. "What happened after I…"

"Ryan and Espo found us," Kate explained. "That was a week ago." Richard frowned, brow furrowing in concentration. He didn't recall a week passing him by. It felt like just 10 minutes ago, a sharp, blinding pain ripped through his torso. "The doctors took you off the ventilator last night, Castle," she added, seeing the confusion in his eyes. He looked so small now, so scared.

"Coma?"

Kate nodded her head with a small, "Mmhmm. You have no idea how lucky you are. It was a fluke he even managed to hit you." Richard waited patiently for her to continue. "Tyson fired a shot before he went over. It went through the rear windows and…" She moved her hand to the spot just under his ribs, covered and padded by bandages. "… and I almost lost you." A tear escaped her eye, and she bit down on her bottom lip. "I don't think I ever said I was sorry – for not telling you I remembered."

"Don't."

"Rick, I –"

"I said don't." She wanted to offer her some sort of reassurance, but he had none to give her. "You need to go. I can't do this with you anymore, Kate." He looked at her as shock started to register on her face.

She felt like she had been sucker punched. Kate had been telling him for years that it was too dangerous for him. He wasn't a cop. He didn't sign up for this – though he technically did when he signed the waiver. This didn't have to be his life. It was fine when she was the one trying to push him away, but when she was on the other side of the fence, she couldn't make heads or tails about how she felt. Did it matter? The end result would be the same. He would have a better chance of dying of old age in his bed than he did playing cop.

"Rick…"

"If you don't mind, I'm really tired now, Beckett."

Richard adjusted his head on the pillow, and Kate simply watched as his eyes closed. "I'll be here when you wake up," she said.

"Would you mind if you aren't?"

For a second she was going to argue, but she closed her mouth. She stared at his prone form in disbelief. She grabbed her jacket and walked out of the hospital room.