Castle wakes slowly. He's so groggy, and there's something tethering his arm... he tries to lift his right hand to pluck at whatever is restraining his left, but it's too heavy and he lets it fall slackly to his side again. He opens his eyes reluctantly, blinking in surprise. What is his mother doing here? And his daughter? He twists his head a little. And Beckett? What is Beckett doing in his room?

"What-" he starts to say, but his voice is a mere croak.

At the sound though, three heads jerk up in unison, worry apparent in each set of eyes.

"Richard!" his mother exclaims.

"Dad, you're awake!" He looks at his daughter more closely. Her cheeks are tear-stained and he narrows his eyes, looking around and trying to assess the situation from the beginning.

There's something on his arm. He looks, sees his left arm is strapped to his chest and his right is attached to an IV. His mother, his daughter and his... Beckett, his mind hazily decides, unable to supply much else. If he even thinks muse, she'll kill him. His mother, his daughter and his Beckett are all sitting around his bed. His bed? This isn't his bed. It's too narrow. And the room is too bright. It's taken a while, but he realizes. He's in hospital.

It all floods back then. Leaving the files with the boys at the Twelfth. Taking a long look at Beckett from across the bullpen as he'd waited for the elevator. Deciding to walk the first few blocks to clear his head before catching a cab. Cutting through a quiet park. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket to call his daughter. And a shock of pain; falling, stumbling and landing heavily on his back. The concerned faces of strangers huddling over him.

He realizes in a flash of panic. He was shot.

He's struggling to breathe all of a sudden, and Beckett leaps up; he sees her press the call button, and his daughter clutches at his hand. His mother's eyes are wide, and she's clenching her fists. A dark haired nurse bustles in, places a calming hand on his arm, and smoothly adjusts the medication flowing into the IV.

"Mr. Castle," she says. "You've given your family here quite a fright." She smiles warmly at the three women, and he wonders, just for a second, who, exactly, Beckett is claiming to be. Surely muse doesn't fall in the 'family' category? The thought is fleeting and he turns to more pressing issues.

"What's going on?"

He tries- and fails- to focus his eyes on the nurse's name badge, but the room is swimming. "Rest, now," she soothes, and he glances at Beckett, hoping for clarification, but she's biting her nails and literally sitting on the edge of the overstuffed blue sofa.

Castle fades out again.

Beckett had arrived at the hospital at three in the morning. Sleep had been elusive, and she'd tossed and turned another hour before sighing and pulling on a pair of jeans and a soft sweater. The city, too, was wide awake, and she'd found a cab easily, directing the driver to the hospital. She'd been relieved as the cab had pulled up to the curb that this wasn't the same hospital Will was in. What were the odds of the two of them being shot within days of one another?

She'd paid the cab driver, tipping the man generously; nobody wanted to be working at this time of night, she'd figured, and she'd made her way into the imposing building, wrinkling her nose at the familiar hospital smell that assaulted her nostrils before she'd even crossed the threshold.

Even at the three in the morning, the place was lit up, and the buzz of the fluorescent lights had had her shielding her eyes for a second as she'd gotten her bearings. She'd learned Castle's room number and made it as far as the second floor; a recovery ward, apparently; before she'd been stopped by a harried looking nurse.

"You're not supposed to be down here," the blond woman had told her, and Kate had shrugged.

"I'm NYPD," she'd tried, but she didn't have her badge with her. Besides, she was hardly here on official business, unless NYPD business suddenly included trauma induced insomnia.

"You'll have to come back in the morning," the nurse had insisted, and Kate had frowned, reading the woman's name badge. Elizabeth. She couldn't come back. She couldn't. She needed to be here, see for herself that Castle was okay. The whole thing was her fault, and even if she had to stay downstairs, hiding out in a waiting room she wasn't leaving-

"Katherine!" Martha's surprised face had had a weariness to it that was levels beyond what Kate had seen this afternoon, but she was pleased to see a warm smile on the woman's face.

"Mrs. Rodgers?" Elizabeth had asked, and Martha had nodded.

"Kate can come in, dear. She can stay with us- she's Richard's girlfriend."

"Is this true?" Elizabeth had turned appraising eyes back to Beckett, who gulped. "I thought you said you were NYPD?"

"Uh-huh." Kate nodded. "NYPD. And… girlfriend." Was girlfriend even enough? The other options had flooded through her mind. Fiancée. Wife. She'd breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself again.

Narrowed eyes had had Beckett wincing, but the nurse nodded. "Go on," she'd said, shooing Kate toward the door. "Go on in."

"Girlfriend, huh?" There had been a smile in Alexis' voice; the girl had been stretched out on a cot and evidently she had heard the whole exchange.

"Oh, hush," Martha had waved a hand at the girl, and Kate had suppressed a smile. "If NYPD accreditation wasn't going to be enough to get poor Katherine here past Nurse Ratched, I knew I had to think fast." She'd laid a hand on Kate's and leaned in conspiratorially. "And it will amuse Richard no end when he wakes up tomorrow."

Kate had smiled weakly. "He hasn't woken up yet?"

"Briefly," Martha had assured her. "But he's under a lot of sedation. When he woke earlier he panicked, and moved too quickly, so he tore a few stitches."

"He's okay, Kate," Alexis had told her softly, and a lump had formed in Kate's throat; she'd dragged Castle down into this whole mess; perhaps if she'd been more open about her mom's case from the beginning… In spite of her place in the whole situation, both Martha and Alexis have been nothing but gracious to her. She had realized that Alexis has used her first name instead of calling her Detective Beckett, and tears had prickled at her eyes.

"Come on, now," Martha had said, gracefully lowering herself on the stark looking sofa, next to Alexis' cot. She'd held out an arm, beckoning Kate across the dimly lit room. "If we're spending the night here, we may as well as be uncomfortable together."

"What are you all doing here?" Castle is faintly pleased when he wakes up the next time. He's managed to get a sentence out, and he hasn't panicked yet; no nurses are rushing in, adjusting his medication, and he even knows why he's here. The smile falls from his face; he's here because he was shot, but as all three sets of eyes jerk up to look at him, he pushes the grin back onto his lips.

"Castle!" Beckett's the first to speak this time, and he sees the small smile that plays at his daughter's lips as she watches Kate. "Castle- I'm so sorry." He watches as her face crumples and he's reaching out his hand involuntarily, cursing the shooting pain in his shoulder and the IV that he's attached to, because when she looks at him like that, with that much pain in her eyes, his only instinct is to hold her.

"Come here," he rasps out instead, and he watches her stand and take a hesitant step toward him. She glances at Martha, and his mother nods. This seems to propel Kate forward, and he watches, spellbound, at the scene that unfurls before him.

"Darling, let's get a coffee," Martha tells Alexis, and his daughter's eyes narrow.

"But, Gram…"

Martha shakes her head at the younger red-head, and casts another glance at Kate. "We'll leave you two alone for a moment," she says, and she throws a gentle arm around Alexis, guiding her from the room.

The whole thing takes just a moment, and suddenly he's left alone with Beckett; he's self-conscious, ridiculously, running his tongue over his teeth and screwing up his face. "Water," he manages; he can see a pitcher and several glasses on the nightstand, and Kate nods, leaping to action.

She pours him a glass, and hands it to him but he's helpless to drink it; he's lying down, and he can't quite sit up and she frowns, assessing the situation, before tackling the problem. She bites her lip and dives in, twisting the handles on the bed, and he finds himself raised to a sitting position swiftly.

He's relieved to find he can lift his right arm to bring the water to his lips, painful though it is.

"What happened, Kate?"

She shrugs and settles into the plastic chair beside his bed. "You were shot?"

He winces. Every time he moves he's reminded of that. "I know… I mean… why? Because of the files, right?"

Kate lowers her eyes, and he's frustrated again; he wants to reach out, cup her chin in his hands.

"Come here," he says instead, patting the space on his bed beside him, and she looks up, horrified.

"Castle! I am not getting into bed with you!"

He chuckles, ignoring the discomfort it brings. If statements like that are coming out of Beckett's mouth, things must be okay between them, he decides. Banter and verbal foreplay is more their status quo, than the last few days of hurt. He wiggles his eyebrows at her and is graced with the ghost of a smile. "Have you slept?" he asks, and she shrugs.

"Some," she tells him, but he remains unconvinced; the circles under her eyes are dark and heavy. She takes a deep breath. "Castle- someone found out you had the files."

"Who?" he asks, and Kate hesitates before answering.

"Karpowski knows the detective who was the lead on my mother's case. Raglan" She reaches a shaking hand out to the pitcher on his nightstand, and pours herself a glass of water, taking a sip before she continues. "I always figured that he was lazy. Incompetent. I figured he'd never found anything because he just wasn't doing his job right. But he was covering. This whole time, he was covering for somebody."

Her eyes flash with anger and Castle settles his heavy head back against his pillow. "Did Raglan shoot me?"

Kate shrugs. "We don't know. We went to his apartment, after you were shot." She pauses, composing herself. "He's not there. No sign of a struggle. We don't know if he's your shooter, and we don't know who he's talked to. We don't know how involved he is in your shooting, or my mom's case. We really don't know if he's been taken out, or if he's taken himself out of the picture. The boys are looking into it this morning."

She shrugs again and he's struck by how young she looks right now; she's a world away from the hard-edged detective he'd met six months ago at his book launch party.

"God, Castle- you were shot," she says suddenly and the anguish in her voice jolts him; he can hear a layer of guilt and he sighs.

He'd pursued her relentlessly since he'd first met her; initially to try and get her into bed, and now, as so much more than a conquest. She's fascinated him from the very first moment, and he realizes that he's in love with her. That he's been in love with her since the night she'd told him about her mom. "Kate," he starts, and her wry smile startles him.

"Doesn't anyone call me Beckett anymore?"

"Why?" he asks. "Who? What are they calling you?"

She purses her lips. "Your daughter is calling me Kate. Your mom is calling me Katherine. The nurses think-" She breaks off, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Huh. He remembers this from when he woke up earlier. The nurses think she's family. "Kate?" he asks. "Who, exactly, do the nurses think you are?"

Thanks Trish and Kylie for the beta! :)