She works up the nerve about an hour later, somewhere between Alexis' 5th and 6th birthdays.

"I'll be in the waiting room," he promises as she rises shakily to her feet, bracing herself against the sink. She breathes deeply and flicks the faucet on. Her body is cold, aches from lying on the linoleum for so long. She flinches as she shoves her hands under the spigot and splashes cold water against her face. She reaches for a towel and pats her face dry.

"You can stay," she says softly, his words finally registering. Her brain is still a little slow, her head still sluggish and heavy. She's tired and anxious, but she knows she also won't get much sleep tonight, even if she manages to convince a nurse to let her sleep on one of their extra cots.

"You sure?" he asks, rubbing the back of her neck with his palm. She closes her eyes, reveling in the ease with which his warm hand soothes the tension in her body.

"Mmm," she mumbles in response. He lets his hand travel down her back, lightly caressing the grooves in her spine before falling slack to his side. She groans. "I might make you do that again later." He chuckles.

She sighs, pries her hands away from the edges of the sink. She thinks maybe it would be better to just rip it off like a band-aid, get in, pull up a chair and just sit and be. But her body is resisting and it feels like forever until she even makes it to the doorway of the bathroom.

Castle's behind her, patient and calm and wordless, and God she doesn't deserve him. If she were him, she'd be running for the hills and never looking back.

Of course, she'd always been a coward.

She runs a hand along the wall as she makes her way toward the bed. Her fingers brush a light switch, flicking off the light that illuminates his face. She sags in relief. She can still make out his form—the light on the other side is still on—but maybe she can delay reality for just a little longer.

There are no chairs, she realizes with dismay. Poor planning on her part. She's really not sure how long her feet will support her before they buckle under her emotional baggage. Castle must sense the way she tenses as she approaches the railing of his bed because he races out of the room and comes back seconds later with a swiveling office chair. She wonders how long it'll be before someone notices its absence.

"Thanks," she rasps, falling slowly into the seat. She scoots closer to the bed, lets her hand rest beneath the railing, against the rough texture of his sheets. She lets out a breath and clenches her fist, letting her eyes travel the full length of his body. If she ignores the tube shoved down his throat, she can almost fool herself into thinking that he's sleeping. She slides her hand toward his, shivering as it brushes over the IV tape, yellowed from his blood.

"Dad," she whispers, biting her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. "I need you to wake up, okay?" She forces her eyes away from his face and they land on the watch that adorns his other wrist.

The one her mother bought him for their 15th wedding anniversary.

She chokes on a sob. "I can't do this without you. You're all I have left." She shakes her head, letting her tears drip onto her jeans.

"She had no choice, Dad, but you do. And…" she trails off, takes a shuddering breath. "I'm not sure I can forgive you if you leave me here."

She knows she won't say anything more, not until he can talk back at her (and knowing him, it will be at her). She feels ridiculous talking to him while he's unconscious, but she also won't risk it, not if there's a chance that he'll hear her.

"I'll see if the nurse will get you a cot." Castle's voice sounds off—a little raspy, too quiet. She shifts in her chair to get a read on him, but he's already out the door, surely ready to switch on the charm.


"You should go home," she says wearily, sitting on the edge of the makeshift bed, blanket folded down. She kicks off her shoes and presses the soles of her feet with her thumb, sighing a little.

He doesn't argue and she knew he wouldn't. He's done enough already, too much maybe, for a woman he's only known a few days.

"Is there anything you need?"

She starts to shake her head, but pauses. "Would you mind calling the Shack, canceling my shift? I'd call them myself, but there's no one there now and I have no idea what my morning will be like tomorrow."

"I'll have my phone on me if you decide you need anything else, even if it's just a decent cup of coffee."

She manages a small smile, grabs his hand and tugs gently, pulling him closer to her.

"Thank you, Castle. This…" she trails off, shakes her head. "It means a lot. I'll never be able to repay you."

"No one should have to do this alone, Kate." He brushes a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear before pressing a palm to her cheek. She sighs and leans into it, closing her eyes.

He presses a kiss to her temple.

"I'll call you," she promises.

He nods, smiles. "I'll be waiting by the phone," he teases. She smiles, rolls her eyes.

"Good night, Rick."

"Til then, Kate."

She watches him leave before letting her body succumb to the rough white sheets of the cot that remind her of the 50 cent rolls of generic toilet paper her grandmother used to buy. She makes a face and pulls her legs up, shoving a hand under the pillow.

She burrows under the thin fleece blanket, eyes heavy.

She sighs. Maybe she'll sleep tonight, after all.


Short. Hadn't planned on updating until Saturday or Sunday (I'll certainly post another one then), but when the mood hits, it hits. It's 3:23 a.m. and this is all Emma's fault.

Ha. No, seriously. She's great, though. Whenever I have a long conversation with her, I always just wanna go home and write. It's great.

Olivia