The two of them grew quiet; Beckett lost in her thoughts and Castle trying to figure out what was going on. Eventually, he realized that she was holding his hand with hers and looked up at her.

"Kate?"

She looked down at him and must have realized he was asking for help, because she hesitated and then squeezed his hand lightly.

"What do you remember?"

He thought about it for a moment, and saw a flash of the funeral again.

"A funeral," he answered. "Yours…"

She shook her head, her eyes so sad and lost that he tightened his grip on her hand trying to comfort her.

"Not mine," she corrected, gently. "You don't remember?"

The thought back to his nightmare, trying to force his agile mind to give up whatever secret it was hiding from him, and saw a flash of a face, and heard the gunshots echoing in his mind. Beckett struggling, begging him to let her go, and finally breaking free to drop next to the still form…

"Roy's."

Beckett sniffed, and nodded, and Castle felt a tear fall on his hand. He looked up at her and wished that he could tell her something that would make it all go away. He was a writer, not a magician, though, and all he could do was hold her hand while she tried to gather the right words to continue.

"It's my fault he's dead," she said, more to herself than to him, he decided.

"No, it's not, Kate."

"He asked me to back off. You practically begged me to back off. You both saw something coming that I didn't, and if I'd listened to you, he'd still…" her voice broke and her head bowed as she tried to bite back a sob and failed. "He'd still be alive… and-"

He pulled his hand from hers and ran it up her arm to her shoulder, trying to comfort her. Beckett sagged, and allowed him to pull her head down to his shoulder, and ignoring the sting from the IV needle in his offside hand, he wrapped his arms around her and held her while she cried out all her frustrations, sorrow and anger from the last few weeks.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, brokenly, into his bare shoulder. "I'm so sorry…"

He didn't try to tell her that everything was okay. Instead he simply held her, brushing his fingers through her hair and pressing his lips against her tear-streaked cheek.

Neither could say how long she cried, but it might have been longer if she hadn't realized that the position had to be hurting him. Reluctantly, she pulled away, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"I'm sorry…"

Castle shook his head.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Kate," he told her, softly, catching her hand with his before she could move it out of his reach. "No one blames you…"

"Captain Montgomery-"

"Made a mistake," he interrupted. "But he made it long before you were involved, and that mistake was his to come clean to or cover up. He chose to cover it up. That's what got him killed. Not you."

She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes.

"I pushed."

"For a good reason."

"Worth him dying for?"

"He thought so."

She sniffed again.

"He shouldn't have. I was selfish. I was so… damned determined to figure out who was behind it that I wouldn't listen to anything anyone was saying…"

"It's okay…"

"How can you say that?" she asked, suddenly furious with him for being so understanding. Bad enough he'd been shot and Montgomery was dead, but he was trying to make her feel better about the whole situation? "Don't you understand, Castle? I put that above everything else. Nothing mattered as much as-"

"Kate…" he looked down at his hand, which was holding hers so tightly. "You did what you thought was right. And before you start talking about being over-obsessive, I'll remind you of the time that you chose to kill your mother's killer rather than allow him to kill me."

She hesitated, then, and it was clear she hadn't thought about the day she'd killed Coonan in the precinct.

"I couldn't let him kill you."

He squeezed her hand.

"And I appreciate it, believe me."

Which made her smile for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime.

"Well, you returned the favor, in spades, today." She looked at the clock on the wall. "Yesterday, that is."

He frowned.

"Are you going to explain that?"

"You really don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"What do you remember about the funeral?"

His eyes grew distant as he tried to remember, but it wouldn't come. Just a bunch of screaming, and a shot, and fear that he'd lost her.

"A shot?"

She nodded.

"You got shot?" he asked.

"You got shot," she corrected. "That's why you're in the bed and I'm not. You saw something and pushed me out of the way of the bullet."

"Really?" He looked down at himself, and saw that his torso was wrapped fairly tightly with a white bandage and there were a lot of monitors around him. "I don't… it doesn't hurt."

"It will," Beckett promised him. "You're going to be okay, though. Scared your mom and Alexis pretty badly."

"They're okay?"

"Yeah." She hesitated, and met his eyes with her own. "You scared me, too."

She saw him flush just a little, and he cleared his throat.

"I had to do it, though," he told her. "Even if I don't remember doing it."

She knew why, now. Even if he didn't remember what he'd told her. Even if he wasn't going to be able to admit it again.

"Thank you, Rick," she said, simply.

"I love you, Kate," he announced, suddenly, before he could censor himself and hide it from her. Better that she knew. He wasn't going to risk any more misunderstandings between them.