AN: Here's the next chapter! Again, thank you for all followers, favorites, and reviews for this story. I really appreciate them!

Disclaimer: I don't own Castle.

Chapter 10

Rick peered into the lens of his binoculars, looking through the window that had grown to become familiar to him. He had promised himself he would stop once she was out of the hospital, but looking in was so damn addicting. It was a habit he couldn't seem to kick, even if it was three in the morning.

"Richard, why are you up?" his mother asked from the staircase.

"Couldn't sleep," he stated.

"Really? Because I believe it's something else." He glanced over at her, pouting at her raised eyebrow. "Come on, Dear. She's safe, she's in bed. You get to see her every day now, in person. I think it's time to stop this spy game once and for all."

"I'm having a serious feeling of deja vu with this conversation." Seeing her disapproving look, he sighed, saying, "I want to make sure she can move around and all that." Really, he would stop. She just needed to be able to walk without cringing for him to do so.

"You'll just make it harder for yourself when you have to explain the book. What if you slip up? She could have you arrested."

"I won't slip up," he promised. As for having him arrested well, he hoped she would see the benefits of him watching her. "Anyway, I'm going to try to sleep. I'm supposed to talk with Gina tomorrow."

"Good luck with that, Darling," she said, a knowing smirk on her face. Yes, dealing with Gina would be fun. "Good night."

"'Night, Mother," he replied, wheeling himself into his room.

As he was preparing for bed, he thought about what his mother said. Yes, he would have to face some type of consequence for watching Beckett. He really hoped she didn't find out, but knowing his luck, she probably would, she wasn't dumb. Whether it would be by him or someone else, he wasn't sure. He hoped it was him, otherwise he knew any chance of a relationship was doomed if she heard it from another person.

However, tomorrow might force him to bite the bullet. He and Gina planned to hash out the details for the final draft of his latest book and the aim was for it to hit the shelves in a few months. He already knew what he wanted to write for the dedication, and well… if he was right about her loving his books, he would have a lot of explaining to do in regard to what he wrote. He would figure it out tomorrow, once he was done talking to his ex wife/publisher. The thought made him shudder, not wanting anymore nightmares.

The ones with Kate dying in his arms were enough.

That same night, Kate gripped her bed sheets, tossing and turning as much as her body allowed. She couldn't sleep, despite taking some pain medication right before bed. No matter what position she tried, she ached, whether it be her head or torso or whatever other body part decided to wreak havoc on her. It didn't help that nightmares plagued her subconscious when she slept.

Giving up, she slowly climbed out of bed, hesitating with each movement. Once she made it out of bed, she maneuvered herself to the kitchen, holding onto the wall for support. She didn't want to use the wheelchair, knowing she would get rid of it the first chance she received.

Reaching the sink, she filled a glass of water for herself, choosing to stay at the counter for support. She sipped the liquid slowly while gazing out the window. As she stared, her eyes fell upon the windows of the building across from her, making her wonder about a certain author. What was he doing right now? Probably sleeping, or maybe even writing. He had told her that on the nights where insomnia got the best of him, he wrote for hours on end. She would love to see him at work. Her mind could picture it: his expression thoughtful, eyebrows scrunched in concentration, fingers flying across the keys as ideas formed into words. Licking her lips, she hummed. Yes, that image was very appealing.

Quietly, she groaned, shaking her head to get the picture out of her mind. There was no reason to be thinking about him like that. Sure, he was nice and clearly concerned about her, but she couldn't give him anything in return, due to the emotional baggage she carried. Also, her lack of physical capabilities at the moment rendered her useless for any type of vigorous activity. Her mouth twisted into a scowl. Maybe she should lay off the medication, it was affecting her focus, apparently.

Her head turned toward the shutters against the wall, eyes closing at the thought of what was behind them. The familiar feeling of failure coursed through her veins, reminding her that she had reached another dead end in her mother's murder. She had a feeling that the man who attacked her was another thug working for whoever was really behind everything. Her most recent lead, Hal Lockwood, was behind bars. However, she wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with her current state. She intended to pay him a visit once she was better.

As she stared at the evidence board, thoughts briefly flickered through her mind of what her mother would think of her now, standing in her apartment, stabbed and beaten just like the elder Beckett had been. She would probably be disappointed. In getting hurt or not catching the killer, Kate didn't know. All she knew is, there was nothing for her to be proud of, right now. That would all change once Kate found justice for her mother.

Her lips lifted upwards in sadness. It seemed the meds were making her contemplative as well. This was so not good for her concentration, even if it was three in the morning.

Looking back at her bedroom door, she found herself dreading the trek back. So, dumping the remaining contents of her glass in the sink, she slowly moved herself to the couch. After a few maneuvers, she found a position she felt comfortable in.

It only took seconds for her to doze off, visions of the writer occupying her dreams.

She awoke the next morning to a knock on her door. Alert, she grabbed her piece from the coffee table and cautiously went to the door, looking through the peephole. She was not going to make the same mistake that landed her in her current state. The familiar face on the other side surprised her.

"Castle?" she asked, gingerly opening the door before holding it wide open.

"Morning, Beckett," he greeted, wheeling past her into the living room. She pursed her lips. Of course he would invite himself into her apartment. "Sleep well?"

"Ah, yeah," she answered. Sniffing the air, she caught a whiff of pancakes and maple syrup? The scent came from the bag he was holding.

"You slept on the couch," he stated. How did he- "Your sofa has a Beckett-sized dent in it." Right. Damn, he always seemed to know what she was thinking. "Anyway, I brought breakfast, well brunch. It's almost noon."

"Almost noon?!" She really slept for that long? Hmm, no wonder she felt refreshed, almost.

"Yep. So, today we have french toast with maple syrup and a choice of bacon or sausage. Oh, and there are bagels and bear claws too. Didn't want you starting your day without your favorite pastry."

She smiled. He was so sweet! "But what about all the food you already gave me?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Eh, figured you'd want a nice, hot, homemade breakfast after all the hospital food."

"Thank you, but you didn't have to do that." Though, she had a feeling that he would go out of the way to do anything for her.

"It's no problem," he replied as he set things up on the counter. "So, go sit, I'll bring you the food."

She sat down at the table, trying not to admire how domestic he looked in her kitchen. He moved, well wheeled, around with ease, acting as if he belonged there. Maybe he did…

"So, how are you feeling?"

She was about to answer 'fine' on instinct, but his expression told her he would not be okay with that answer.

"Like I've been stabbed," she chuckled humorlessly. "I am taking my pain meds, in case you're wondering."

"Good." His head nodded in approval. "Do you need help changing your bandages? Mother or Alexis said they would help you, if needed."

"No, I'm good," she stated. She hadn't tried to redress her bandages, that should be an adventure. "But I will let you know if I do need help."

He gave her an appreciative smile, the answer appeasing him.

"So, food?" She shot him a teasing grin.

"Here you go, m'lady." He placed the steaming plate of breakfast food in front of her, the sight making her stomach rumble.

"Looks delicious." She began to dig in before taking her phone out of her pocket to check for messages. When she saw no new messages, she frowned.

"Waiting to hear from your coworkers?" he guessed.

"Yeah," she mumbled, her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. Damn it.

"I don't think they're going to contact you about your case."

She snorted. "Are you in cahoots with them or something?"

"No," he replied gently. "However, I'm sure they're thinking the same thing. You need rest and time to recover. You can go back to your kickass self once you're better."

She glared at him, her lips forming into a scowl. "My attacker and potential murderer is still out there! I can't just sit around and do nothing while he walks the streets!"

"And you can do something, once you can actually move without wincing."

She slumped in her seat, running her free hand through her hair. After a taking a calming breath, she asked, "Why do you care so much? I'm just some random girl you found." She was a nobody, compared to him.

"Because," he hesitated. "I just do."

She let out an exasperated huff. "How do you even know I'm 'kickass'? You've never seen me in action."

"Well, I'm sure you have to be in order to get where you are in your career," he answered as a matter of fact. "Smart, Kickass, not to mention sexy."

"I sure don't feel sexy right now," she mumbled.

"You underestimate yourself," he replied smoothly. "Now, come on and finish your breakfast. I brought some movies we can watch."

"Looking for entertainment?"

"Well, more of a distraction," he confessed. She raised an eyebrow. "I had a discussion with my publisher this morning and I wish to erase the non-important, less pleasant parts of the conversation. So, pretty much most of it."

"Good thing I'm here then," she teased. It was still weird, the fact that he would come to her…

"Alrighty, I'll lay some of the movies out and you can choose. So, chop, chop." He winked, rolling over to the couch.

As he set up, she watched him, smiling as the enthusiasm radiated off of him. She was a bit envious of the fact that he could be so carefree. She wished she could be like that, but she couldn't, not when she had a job to do.

A few moments later, he wheeled back around, grinning. She examined his expression, noticing he was giving her one of his genuine smiles. At this point, she was able to tell the difference between the smile he produced for his book jackets and the real one she sometimes felt was just for her. He smiled as she moved over to him, but she noticed something was a little off. The smile didn't reach his eyes and he seemed …scared? What was there to be frightened about? Maybe she was reading him wrong.

Pushing the thought aside, she walked over, interested in whatever movies he thought were recovery appropriate. Once she made a selection, he rolled over to the couch, helping her get settled as much as he was able to. Soon, the credits began to roll and Kate found herself relaxing. It didn't hurt that a good man was keeping her company. She smiled to herself.

Maybe taking the day off wasn't such a bad idea after all.