Thank you all once again for the lovely reviews and alerts, you've made me very happy. I hope that this chapter lives up to your expectations.

I don't own anything you recognize, I'm still just keeping myself sane, am I the only one who feels like Knockout was months ago?

He listens to her speak carefully,

she reminds him so much of her mother.

There's a shout and she winces and

she reminds him of her mother

even more.

For Her

Part Four: Her Father

He hasn't had a drink in years – he's wanted one, hell the urge never goes away – but he hasn't let himself take a sip.

Right now he wants one more than he has in years, he can almost smell it, almost taste it, almost feel the glass on his lips, almost feel the liquid burn the back of his throat – a desperate attempt to take away the pain.

Scotch.

Scotch was his drink of choice – his painkiller, the way he made himself forget that his wife was taken so cruelly from him.

He can't remember – he doesn't want to remember how much he would have consumed. He'd lost track of how many bottles she'd thrown away, of how many times he'd lifted a glass to his lips, of how many times he'd woken face down and of how many times he'd gone back for more.

He doesn't know how many times she'd stopped him from doing something stupid, how many times his Katie was the adult and did for him, what he should have done for her – provided comfort.

He reaches out for her hand now, squeezing it tightly, there's no response, she doesn't move, she just lays there. Her eyes are closed tightly and there is an oxygen mask covering half of her face – a reassuring beep makes it's presence known every few seconds – the sound comforts him – it means his Katie is still fighting, she hasn't been swallowed by the darkness whole.

He lied to her when he told her he just slept badly in her first year out of the academy, the truth is he's had nightmares since she was a rookie cop and the nightmares haven't gone away – they've just been subdued. They don't come every night now like they did in the beginning, sometimes it's every couple of days, or weeks, or even months, but still he dreams of the worst happening to his daughter, to his Katie.

The worst dream is one that has her lying in the same alley where they'd seen his wife – her posture copies her mother's exactly, her body crumpled in the same way, it's that dream that he had vividly a few nights ago – when she'd called him to say that the man she believed knew something about Johanna's death had escaped from court.

He knows his daughter, he knows how brave she is, how determined she is, how she stares down whatever troubles her, how she doesn't flinch, she's tough and stubborn and she reminds him of Johanna more and more each day.

His wife believed that the truth couldn't hurt you – even that the truth was her weapon to wield – he wonders now what his wife would say about the truth. Katie's search for truth had led her to this hospital bed, had led her to pain – he wonders if this is his fault, if he should have tried harder to stop her, tried to do his best for her – but he knows that wouldn't have mattered - his daughter doesn't back down, no matter the consequences for her.

Carefully he reaches out for a small paper bag that has been resting on the table beside him; gently he releases her hand for just a few moments and opens the bag slowly. The nurse explained these were things that Katie had with her when she was brought into the hospital, there are only two items – one is Johanna's wedding ring, he takes the fine chain in both hands and runs it through his fingers, the ring catches one of his knuckles and he takes the ring between his thumb and forefinger, he closes his eyes and he can see Johanna's face on their wedding day, he can see her smile as he slipped the ring on her finger, he can see all the memories of a marriage cut too short, he opens his eyes as a solitary tear threatens to fall, he wipes it away with one finger and he places the ring on the bed beside Katie.

The second item is something that once belonged to him, a watch he received as a present from both Katie and Johanna for one of his birthdays. There is a story behind this too, the story being that both Katie and Johanna had picked this exact watch from a catalogue and had eagerly shown it to the other as the perfect present idea.

He remembers their identical smiles and laughter when they had recounted this story at his birthday dinner, he sighs remembering the moment he'd decided to give his daughter back the present she'd once given him – 365 days sober – for her he had left the watch in a box on her dresser – for her he'd written a note with two words – thank you.

His thoughts are interrupted by a noise from the corridor – there's a familiar face staring through the doorway, Jim is surprised he's taken this long to make his way to her side – he never considered he was the type of man to respect the rules, to abide by the family only policy – especially considering his reaction at the cemetery, his mother and daughter had had to pull him away from Katie.

Rick Castle stands there, he doesn't make any inroads to enter the room, he just stands there, staring. It's almost as if he's waiting for someone to tell him he can enter the room – that he's allowed to be beside the woman Jim knows he cares about. It isn't like the man Jim knows from the public world, he seems more like the man that his daughter has told him all about.

He hasn't changed his shirt – Katie's blood is still visible for all to see. Jim wonders if he has the same look that Rick does, if he looks as forlorn, as lost, as broken. The two men make eye contact for the first time and Jim cannot help but nod towards Rick, he does it for his daughter, he does it for her – having Rick beside her is something his daughter needs – rules or no rules, protocol or no protocol, none of that matters, she is all that matters and as Rick enters the room and sits down beside the bed – he knows he's made the correct choice – for her.

There's one piece missing and I've left him for last for a reason - Castle is next.