A/N - Wow! Two chapters from me on the same day. (the other was posted for Martha's Heart).

Thanks to everyone who has followed, favors this or has reviewed. I truly appreciate it all. Mostly I'm bolstered by the fact that you're reading. It does my heart good.

Oh yeah, any body out there ready for the hiatus to be over? I know I am. One week, just one more week.

Enjoy!

~GeekMom

The Courtship of Katherine Beckett

Chapter 10

Laughter, Lacerations & Lasciviousness

Too close: too damn close. Kate drew in a breath and fisted her hands in his comforter. Drawing another breath, it hitched, she faltered. She tried to focus her eyes to gain control. She glanced at his chest of drawers. There were pictures displayed. One of the back of his mother; she smiled. He had said that Martha wanted him to keep a photo of her in his room. He agreed but only if he got to choose it. He told Kate there was no way he would let his mother or even a likeness of her see how he was ravishing his muse every evening and most mornings.

Her eyes moved to her picture. Castle had taken it at their swings. He had pushed her and she leaned back just enjoying the sensation of swinging. The sun was behind her, illuminating her loose airborne hair. He had stolen the clip, which was holding her tresses closed up tightly in a twist, just as he released her. He told her that he loved that picture because of the smile of unadulterated joy on her face, the freedom her expression invoked, the glow of her sun-kissed hair as it haloed her head and mostly, knowing that he made her feel that way. Her heart swelled then, just as it did now because of his words. Kate laughed out loud when he amended his description, 'and hot,' she remembered he closed his eyes, 'and oh so hot, Beckett.' He huffed between each word. She then thanked him for helping her to undulate. He stood still: immobilized by her words. Kate took pity on him and let him kiss her senseless in public.

Kate smiled, then stood and walked to the dresser to pick up the remaining photo. It was of him and Alexis: nose-to-nose and forehead-to-forehead, exuding love and laughter, sharing a private joke or observation. She could see his slightly raised eyebrow: the same eyebrow that announced a joke or prank, innuendo or sarcasm. He was a joyful father. Kate withered to the floor as the weight of what almost happened today hit her again.

They almost lost that wonderful father and son...man. She breathed. He was all right: he was. He would be. He had to be. A tear escaped and trailed down her cheek. She almost lost him.

It was routine, although they say that nothing in police work is actually routine. You always need to be on alert, always expect the worst case scenario to play out. Always be prepared. She didn't expect the worst and she wasn't prepared; she'd reacted but too late.

She and Castle went to interview a cousin of their vic's. There was no indication that he had any part in the murder, just a material witness. Routine. Interview, take notes, and move on. Castle had complained that this was the boring side of police work. Complained, whined. Tried to convince her to play hooky and let the boys to take it. She had rolled her eyes and told him that he needed to spend more time on this side of police work: become more familiar with the mundane aspects of the job. He had moaned that his readers were not interested in mundane. In the end, he followed her; trusted her, just as he always did. The cousin, Henry Jones, Jr., and yes, Castle made numerous Indian Jones references, was just supposed to be an in and out interview.

They asked the standard questions: when was the last time he saw his cousin; what was the nature of their relationship; Castle asked if he owned a bull whip and fedora; she asked where he was at the time of the vic's death and then Jones freaked out. He jumped up, pulled a hunting knife, and brandished it wildly in Kate's direction. Castle jumped between them and spun Henry around and held his arms until he relinquished the knife. It was not until she had put him in handcuffs that she even realized Castle had been injured. The knife had been sharp: razor sharp, but also dirty. He said it didn't hurt, but at that point, he had lost a lot of blood. Too much. Later, she found out at the hospital, that the knife had nicked his carotid. Just a sliver further and he would have bled out and died. Done. Gone.

Kate swiped another tear. He wasn't...gone. He would be fine.

She had just come from the hospital. The doctor wanted to keep him for a few hours to replenish his fluids and administer antibiotics. Castle asked her to get him some clothing as his were ruined.

Alexis and Martha were out of town, visiting a friend of Martha's in San Francisco. Kate was thankful that she didn't have to face them right now. The persistent guilt she felt at having put him in dangerous situations ate away at her. Having to own up to his family and ask for their forgiveness would be horrendous.

She changed her shirt, which had his blood on it and went into his closet to gather what he had asked for: jeans: the dark ones, a tee shirt, and a button down. He did not care which one although he teased that she should bring the dark red one, so he would not have to change again.

Kate took a deep breath to steady herself against the memory; the ass had asked if the lame ass joke was too soon.

"Yes! Oh god, yes, it's too fucking soon." She shouted to no one and the whole city.

She sat down on the floor at the foot of the bed and breathed deeply, employing Sama Vritti: deep breathing Yoga exercises, to balance and calm her mind, emotions and body. The tears came anyway.

After, Kate collected her errant emotions, and put them in a box on the shelf: it was time for Beckett to be back. When she stood, she faced the enormous animal prints on his wall. She liked the elephant but the lion unnerved her. She stared him down on principle.

She selected the deep purple, her favorite color: ignoring the smartass' request. She reached up on a shelf to grab a bag to carry his clothes. There was a dark brown leather bag, which appeared to be the size and shape of a saddlebag. It was totally non-utilitarian, but oh so soft. She pulled it down and took it to his bed.

The bag was not very big, but it was heavy. Upon opening it, Kate discovered another plastic bag inside. Curious, she pulled the bag out and opened it.

Castle dozed on his bed, while he waited for Beckett to return. He fought against it, but the nurse, some wunderkind named Klaus administered pain medication as ordered by the doctor, after Kate left. He argued that he could live with the pain, but the doctor overruled him. If the truth were told, he could barely move his neck. The cut radiated pain from the site of the injury through his shoulders and down his back and arm.

He had needed twelve exterior stitches and micro-stitches on his carotid, just under his left ear. He asked, but had been denied the opportunity to watch the procedure on a monitor.

He shut his eyes and replayed the day's events in his mind. He had been a jerk to her and was wallowing in guilt-ridden, pain medication induced torpor.

After the ambulance brought him in, they sutured his cut, cleaned him up, and put into a room before they let Beckett back to see him. She walked through the door and before she could say anything he parlayed, "I'm fine…"

"But Castle…" She shook her head as she neared his bed.

Castle raised his hand. "No, there are no buts, Kate. I'm fine." His eyes lit up and he smiled. "Did you see how I held him and disarmed him? Tell me you saw that? God, I am the best partner." He nodded his head arrogantly. "You have the best partner."

"It was stupid." Kate pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.

"He was headed toward you," he said as if that explained everything.

She shook her head. "Yeah and I'm the cop and I was armed."

"We constantly have this argument. I've been injured."

Kate absently fiddled with the bed sheets. "I know…that's…"

He continued, blatantly cutting her retort off. She glowered at him. He ignored the look. "That should give me a get out of jail free card or at least second place in the beauty contest." He smiled the smile for the cameras. "I am still ruggedly handsome, he missed my face."

Beckett had heard enough and she raised her voice. "Please, stop joking Castle. Don't you see what could have happened?" A nurse came in to check his I.V. and shot a warning look at Beckett before she left.

Castle chuckled. "Kate, do you know how much danger I was in before I met you?"

Confused, she answered, "None?"

He made a wrong answer buzzing noise. "Eh, wrong. Every morning…" he scowled and thought for a moment, "or actually very few mornings, mostly afternoons, I'd get up, go outside, and walk around the city."

"The dangerous sections? For research?"

He shook his head. "No, just anywhere and everywhere. I could have been, on any number of occasions: mugged, robbed, hit by a taxi, bus, or god: a bike messenger. I have taken numerous flights from both airports. At any time I could have been bludgeoned and whisked away to a cult. I could be annoying people on their doorstep or selling flowers on the street corner…for peace. I could have seen shady Mafia dealings down by the river and put in cement galoshes which means that I would be swimming with the fishes right now." He nodded his head matter-of-factly. "How about just run down in the street? I have a bad habit of getting lost in my own thoughts, sometimes I've wandered into traffic." He looked up, his gaze unfocused, somewhere beyond the hospital room and mused, "Good times."

"But none of that has ever happened Castle….or in all probability would never happen." She shook her head, dismissing the levity. "You are lying in this hospital bed because you were following me."

He was silent for a moment. "You're right." She looked at him to see if he was jerking her around. He seemed sincere. She angled her head, getting ready for the punch line. "Today, because of where I chose to be, I was injured."

Fleetingly off balance, Beckett countered, "But my point is that if you weren't with me…"

"Maybe I'd be with some detective who didn't really care about my well-being. Remember Slaughter?" He shuddered. "I chose to be there, Kate, not you. I did." He tilted his head and closed his eyes on the pain the movement caused. When he opened them again, it was to a concerned expression. He waved her off. "You have always had this notion that I am bound to you by those releases I signed. I can stop this at any time Kate; I am not bound by an oath or a paycheck or any time period. Can't you concede that my following you around is my choice?"

"Rick…"

He held his hand up. Pursed his lips and exuded petulance. "You're not the boss of me Detective." He reached out and tilted her face so she had to look at him. He grabbed her shoulders and drew her near to his face. He whispered, "I am the only person responsible for me being here, get it?"

She nodded her agreement unconvincingly and opened her mouth to offer another protest, which he swallowed as soon as he kissed her. They broke apart from the life-affirming kiss when he heard a soft cough at the doorway.

His doctor stood there, his eyebrow raised and a slight grin on his face. "I guess you're feeling good, Mr. Castle?"

Castle chuckled as a rapidly red turning Beckett climbed down off of his bed. "Never better," he replied.

"Good, that's good. I'm still concerned about your low blood count. I would like you to stay here and receive at least one more unit and another round of antibiotics before I might even consider letting you go. How's the pain?"

"Non-existent," he lied. The last thing he wanted or needed was pain meds that made him needy or whiney.

"Excellent," the doctor said as he eyed Beckett. "Detective? I'm going to examine the sutures, would you mind stepping out?"

"Oh, okay. Castle, is there anything you need?"

"Maybe a clean shirt and jeans? I am pretty sure the clothes I came in with are ruined. Oh, maybe some jello?" He scowled in concentration. "Oh wait."

"I think you can get the jello here and I can go to your apartment and get you some clean clothes." She turned to the doctor, "How long do you think he'll be here?"

"Hard to say, but at least another few hours."

Beckett raised her eyebrow. "Okay." She turned back to Castle. "Castle, what do you want me to get?"

"Hm," he said as he thought. "My dark jeans, the ones that you said you liked because of the way they hugged my…"

"Castle!" Beckett titled her head toward the doctor.

"Oh right," he said grinning at the doctor who was studiously examining Castle's medical file and doing his best not to appear to be watching the two of them. Castle continued, "They're…um, hanging in the closet I think, a tee shirt, I don't care which one and a button down…oh…oh, ho… maybe the dark red one…" She looked up at him from her notepad. He grinned wickedly. "You know, in case it starts bleeding again, I won't have to change."

Beckett felt all the breath leave her body. She looked up at the stupid acerbic smirk she'd known that she would see there and her eyes flashed a warning. "Kidding, I'm just kidding Beckett…" he raised an eyebrow, smirked again, and asked, "too soon?"

Kate gritted her teeth. She turned her back on him. "Doctor? If you can give him anything for his obvious mental affliction up to and including a lobotomy, please do." She strode to the door, eager to escape. The doctor just nodded.

Down in the hospital parking garage, she read the text he had sent right after she left his room.

'I'm sorry, Kate. You're right: I am a jackass. Come back soon. I promise to behave.'

The doctor examined him after Beckett left and as he suspected, determined Castle to be less than truthful about the pain and ordered medication, which is why he now dozed.

Kate pulled the plastic bag out of the saddlebag and opened it. "Seashells? And a hunk of driftwood," she asked of no one. She picked each shell out of the bag and examined them. Kate gasped in recognition. They had collected the shells on the first walk on the beach in the Hamptons, months ago. "But why are you keeping them?" He had some sort of plan for them, obviously. Sometimes he was so easy to read, sometimes; not so much.

Every time she thought she had figured him out, she discovered something new. Kate knew he had a big heart and was generous and kind or could be a total ass, but now, she discovered his sentimentality. Examining each shell, she remembered the weekend, the fun they had, and the laughter. Castle could make her laugh; he was indeed the funniest kid in the class, as she once told him, but he could also love. The man had the deepest capacity to love that she had ever encountered. He kept the shells as mementos of that weekend: reminders of their time together. Kate cherished their time together, whether on or off duty. He really was the best partner, for her. She placed all of the shells back in the bag and replaced them in the saddlebag, put it back on his shelf. Grabbing a backpack, she shoved his clothes into it.

Kate rode the elevator back to his floor. She checked in at the nurse's station. Castle's nurse asked her to wait for the doctor. Kate sat across from his room, imagining the worst. Her phone buzzed. Esposito sent her a text reporting that Jones had confessed to the murder of his cousin. Beckett closed her eyes.

"Detective Beckett?" His doctor stood before her when she opened her eyes. He took the chair next to her. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm…I'm fine. How is Castle? Can he go home?" She asked, instantly awake.

"He would certainly like to." He grimaced and shook his head. "I'd like to keep him overnight, his blood count is still lower than we'd like and there is still the possibility of infection. I want to keep a close eye on him. I was hoping that you might convince him."

Kate listened and nodded. "But, I'm not family, I'm his partner. Doesn't he have to make that decision?"

"Yes. Yes he most certainly does, but Detective, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you may have some influence over him." The doctor's eyes danced as he chuckled.

Beckett blushed but shook her head. She did not seem to have much influence at all. Not if their earlier argument was any indication.

The doctor continued. "Just try to persuade him, Detective." He stood up to leave.

Kate nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Oh," the doctor said turning back toward her. "He is currently sleeping. I had to give him some pain medication. Seems he was putting up a brave front before." He squeezed Kate's forearm. "Don't you worry; he'll be up and back to, of course I'm assuming here, but he'll be annoying you in no time," the doctor said knowingly.

Kate stopped at the nurses' station and made a few requests that would help her convince him to stay. The nurses were happy to oblige as long as her plans didn't interfere with their care of him.

Beckett peeked in his room, it was dark, and he was still asleep. She dropped the bag and left to gather supplies. Castle was still sleeping when she returned, so she prepared the room and waited.

Floating and then not: struggling to wake, as if he was being held under the surface of water, but could still breathe. Castle opened his eyes after what felt like an eternity. He blinked and took in his surroundings. It all came rushing back: the interview, the attack, the ambulance, the hospital and …oh, the pain meds. 'That's why he felt like Rip Van Winkle,' he thought.

Yeah, his neck. He groaned as he moved his head and tried to sit up. He blinked a few more times. There were white twinkly lights hanging haphazardly around the room. He craned his neck to take in more details and instantly regretted it. He surveyed the rest of the room and his eyes landed on her. She was in soft focus in the iridescent glow of the tiny bulbs, like gauze over a camera lens. She looked like she frequently did in so many of his dreams. "Kate?"

She scrutinized him intently and then smiled. "Hey," she said as she tilted her head in an attempt to covertly assess his condition. "How are you feeling?"

He frowned. "Confused. How long was I asleep?"

"Just a few hours."

He raised his eyebrows and rubbed his hands together, discovering that he was still hooked up to an I.V. "I guess I can go?"

"The doctor wants you to stay."

"Why?"

"Because you're an ass and he thinks they may have a cure."

He pursed his lips contritely. "I know. I'm really sorry. I didn't think." His normally prurient baritone was quiet and heartfelt.

"I know." She stood and moved toward the side of his bed.

"Do you think I should stay?" He reached for her hand and captured it in his.

She tightened her grip. "I think the doctor thinks you should."

"But, I feel fine," he whined. He immediately closed his eyes against the tone of his own voice. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed that painkillers made him whiny…well whinier…more whiny. It was a mannerism that he never wanted to show to Beckett.

Kate tipped her head, her curls cascading over her shoulder. "What if I make it worth your while?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

Castle sat up straighter. "What did you have in mind, Detective?" He leaned closer to her. Close enough that the scent of cherries surpassed the hospital smells of disinfectant and sickness.

She sat on the edge of his bed and tucked one leg under her. She took both of his hands in between hers. "I want you to promise me that you'll not to takes risks like you did today." She rubbed gentle little circles on his thumbs.

"I can't do that." He pulled his hands back and ran one through his hair. "I mean, Kate, if someone threatens you, I can't raise my hands," which he did to illustrate, "back away, and say, 'have at her, bad guys, I'm just the writer'."

She reached for him again. "I know." She held onto his hands tightly.

"And how could you possibly…" he blinked twice and searched her face. "What did you say?" He looked back at their intertwined digits and then up into her eyes.

"I said that I know. Castle, I know you have to be involved, to help. I know how you feel. I know you can't turn that off." She began massaging her circles on him again. He found it mesmerizing and relaxing. Her ministrations along with her intoxicating scent of cherries and hints of gunpowder were overwhelming.

"Okay…" He turned his head and looked at her indirectly, as if trying to see a hidden message in a pattern on a page by tilting the angle slightly.

"But there has to be some way to prevent another incident like today from happening," she added quietly. She dropped her gaze from his eyes to their hands.

He studied her for a moment and saw the strain she held in her carriage and the worry seeping from her eyes. The red shirt crack was asinine: it hit way too close and too soon and he was truly sorry for it. He regretted causing the anxiety he saw in her. "Kate, how many meet and greets have we done together?"

"Hm, including today?" She lifted her gaze to his.

His eyebrows shot into his tousled hair. "You seriously know the number?"

She grinned like she always did when she misled him successfully. "No, but it has been hundreds."

"How many have put me in the hospital?" His blue eyes were clear and focused on her. Sometimes she could almost feel the warmth that came from their laser-like intensity.

"Hm, including today?" She raised her eyebrow.

"Funny, but that's my point." He reversed their hand topography and began soothing circles of his own onto her velvety smooth skin. "We can't live our lives as if something is going to happen. You know as well as I do that the bogeyman is alive and well and living in New York," He stopped his attentions briefly to gesture out toward the window. "But we can't hide away because we might meet him. I don't want to live that way. Do you?" he asked earnestly.

Kate looked him directly in the eye. "No, no I don't." She tilted her head. "But will you please acknowledge that I'm the cop; that I've had the training; and, in case you ever forget, you do know I'm wearing a gun."

Castle hissed in through his teeth and then bit his lip. "Gaaahd, that's hot." He exhaled strongly. "Duly noted. I'll do my best to remember."

"Good." She stood and walked over to the open door. She kicked the doorstop and let the door close slowly; the air running out of the pneumatics in perfect synchronicity with the breath leaving Castle's lungs.

"So, um…what are you doing?" he squeaked. His iconic cool, suave, and debonair baritone temporarily visited the tenor section.

She climbed onto his bed. "Did you ever have an adventure in the hospital, Castle?"

He gulped. "Um…like a date? An…adventure…date?"

She watched his adam's apple bounce under the bandage. "I have something for you."

"What?...what is it?"

"Seriously? Shut your eyes."

He grinned lasciviously. "God, Beckett, you are going to kill me…" He shut his eyes and started chanting, "Please let it be a slutty nurse outfit, please let it be a slutty nurse outfit, please let it be…"

"Castle!"

He swallowed again, "Yes." He opened one eye to peek at her.

Kate grinned and held out one of two paper cups. "Jello?"