Castle rode a wave of nausea that buffeted him to the shores of consciousness, leaving him sprawlingly awake, blinking his eyes at a sea of dark hair.

"Kate?" But his voice was dry as driftwood and he had to take a painful swallow. He shifted and turned his head, wincing at the seasick effect of movement, but didn't recognize the place. "Kate." She was asleep beside the bed, her head against his hip, her hair undone and falling over his stomach. She was on his good side, so he could lift his hand and touch her cheek.

She stirred under his hand, then jerked upright, blinking at him. Her hair tumbled around her face. A line creased her cheek, eyeliner smudged below her eye.

"Castle." She sat up a little, leaning closer, and he saw she was still in her gown, wrinkled now and stained. She took his hand and squeezed it.

"What. . .am I in the hospital?"

She nodded and rubbed at her eye, swiped at the line of mascara, but he saw instead the way she was rubbing away tear tracks.

"What happened?"

She tilted her head, glanced down at her dress. "You don't remember?"

He grunted. "You finally made an honest man of me." He lifted his lips to smile at her.

Relief made her shoulders dip; she raised her hands to her face. He tried to touch her again, but she was too far away.

"Kate. I need you closer," he whispered.

She moved immediately, sliding up beside him in her dress and pressing her face to his chest, her knee drawn up next to his thigh. He managed to bring his arm up to circle her shoulders, realized that there was a decidedly delicious lack of pain.

"I'm sorry. I wanted it to be-"

"Shut up, Castle," she said against his shirt, and he heard in her voice that she was trying not to cry.

"Kate?"

"It was perfect; it was fine. You did good. Shut up."

He shut up. He let her lay against him, drawing aimless circles across the skin of her back, along the shifting silk of her dress as she fought to keep from crying. He remembered the look on her face and tried to give her time, but his drugged curiosity was running wild, and he hoped distraction might help her as well.

"What happened, Kate?"

She lifted up to meet his eyes, reaching out to brush the hair off his forehead. It flopped back and she finally gave him a ghost of a smile.

"In the limo. . .you passed out."

He wasn't surprised, but he saw there was more. He waited, his hand at her knee, stroking through the fabric of the dress, warm and smooth.

"You had a seizure. I couldn't. . .And then you threw up." She shifted her eyes to the empty bed in the room, swiped at the cheek he couldn't see. "A few times."

Castle squeezed her knee, wished he knew how to apologize for that. "Fever?"

She nodded. "Took you to the ER. They wouldn't. . .anyway. Febrile seizures. An infection at the site of the wound. You're better now. They want to keep you overnight."

"Time is it?"

"Four something," she said, moving like she was going to get up and check.

"No, stay," he said, clutching at her knee.

She stayed, a hand coming to his thigh to trace the lines of the thin blanket over him.

"Lay down with me."

She did, reclaiming her place at his chest, her knee up. Stains on her dress, he remembered, and winced.

"Does it still hurt?" she whispered, lifting her head.

"No. No, nothing hurts. It's good stuff." He waved his hand slowly where the IV was attached. His shoulder didn't even twinge. "Can't feel that."

"Stop it," she said, reaching over his waist to capture his hand, to make it still. She laced her fingers through his, clung to his hand. He could feel her arm across his stomach, the slight weight of it, and against his good shoulder, the shape of her cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he says again, sighing. "This isn't where I wanted us to be tonight."

"This is exactly where I want *you* to be," she muttered. "Stay put for once, Castle."

He wanted to ask if that meant she'd stay put for once too, but he couldn't. He couldn't ask because he knew they were out here to find this contact of Montgomery's, to lift Pandora's lid on her mother's murder in the form of that bank safety deposit box. He wouldn't beg her to sit at his bedside.

Oh but he wanted her too.

"Where are you going to be?" he said finally, thinking maybe he shouldn't push her, not after all that.

"What do you mean?"

"What's first? Bank or run down this guy?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

Wait, what? She hadn't thought about it?

"Has Jordan called?"

"Castle," she grunted and tried to carefully shift positions beside him, lifting her head. "I don't want to talk about Jordan."

Okay. "Will the bank-"

"Shut up, Castle," she growled, then leaned in and captured his lips hotly, silencing him.

When Castle had fallen back asleep, Kate slid off the bed and stretched her neck, tried to work the kinks out of her muscles. At least her hands had stopped shaking, her stomach had settled again.

When she couldn't get Castle to wake up. . .

No good thinking about it now. Now she had to decide what to do. Jordan would be taking over the case in a matter of hours; as Shaw's agent, it would be up to Beckett to investigate the leads.

Alone. Castle would be here; she wouldn't let him leave the hospital, no matter what he said.

He was right about one thing, though. She should've called Agent Shaw by now, figured out where they were on taking over this case. Since Powell had opened that safe and Kate had drawn out the key taped to the card, she'd thought of nothing else but getting to Vegas, opening up whatever was in Box 308.

It occurred to her now that it was possible the box wasn't Montgomery's at all, that it might, in fact, be the man's whose name was on the card taped to the key. A business card for Craddock Bank with the name Mike Russo-

But the name had sounded familiar, from newspaper articles around the time her mother had been shot. She'd thought the guy might even had mafia ties, especially since he'd retired to Vegas. *If* it was the same guy. She hadn't been able to locate Mike Russo's name again, with her limited resources, limited time.

She should've called Shaw.

Kate stumbled over to where their things lay in a heap on the hard, plastic couch under the window. Sergio had gone back to the villa and gathered their bags; they hadn't even unpacked. She dug through the box that held the clothes she'd changed out of in the boutique, found her phone.

It was off; she'd forgotten that.

Her ring clanked against the screen and she paused, bent over the bag, watching the fluorescent lights bounce off the metal. She had to look over at the bed once again, reassure herself that he was just asleep, still breathing.

She called Shaw.

"Where have you been?" was her sharp greeting.

"Had my phone off."

"Well, you need to get your ass on a plane and get back here, Agent Beckett."

Kate sat down hard on the couch, dropped her forehead to her hand. "What do you mean?" she hissed, trying to keep her voice down.

"Mary Montgomery's filed a police report, Beckett. Do you know why?"

A police report? "Why?"

"She had a break-in at her home. The safe was open; she says she knows there were things in that safe, but she doesn't know what. CSU found a partial on the inside of the safe door."

No. That wasn't how they'd left it; Powell was entirely too careful for that, too clean, too good. She'd had her ever-present blue crime scene gloves on; Powell his own gloves. They'd shut the safe door; there should be no traces.

"What are you talking about?"

"Partial matched the prints we have on file for you, Agent Beckett."

"But I didn't-" But she had. Not those prints, not that time, but she had.

"I am lobbying hard for you here, Beckett, trying to convince them that you were Montgomery's friend; he was your mentor. There are lots of reasons why your print might still be on that safe door."

Kate fought for breath, closed her eyes to squeeze out the image of her Captain bleeding on the sidewalk in front of his own home. "That wasn't me," she said carefully.

"When you get back to the city, we will have a conversation about your new leads, and where they came from, and perhaps give you a refresher course on the 'fruit of the poison tree' theory."

There was no way to redeem this. She had stolen evidence from her Captain's safe and then spirited to Vegas as if there was nothing wrong with it, as if she could use FBI resources at her own whim, whenever she wanted, and now she might have ruined their chances of getting justice for Montgomery.

"And after I thoroughly ream you out, Agent Beckett, you will report for probationary duty in Cleveland on Monday."

So she still had the weekend. "Agent Shaw. . .I can't leave today."

"The hell you can't-"

"Castle -" She had to swallow past the cold ball of desperation in her throat. "Castle followed me out here. His bullet wound got infected; he's in the hospital here in Las Vegas."

Shaw was silent on the other end, and Kate hung her head, tried to quell the rising panic that threatened to flood her whenever she thought about leaving Castle in a hospital in Vegas, alone.

"As soon as he's mobile, you get your ass back to New York," Shaw said, then ended the call without another word.

Kate hunched her shoulders and dropped her phone beside her, pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. Tried to think.

There was nothing *to* think. Without the FBI's resources on this one, Kate had very little recourse. She couldn't walk into a bank with a key and demand to be allowed to see it. She might be able to track down Russo, but she had a sinking feeling that Russo was a man who might not want to be found.

And if he was found, *when* he was found, he wouldn't submit to questioning without a fight.

She just wasn't up to a fight today. Not today, not tomorrow.

"Kate?"

She jerked her head up and saw that Castle was awake again; the pain medication must be wearing off. They'd wanted to give him an anticonvulsant, and it had been Kate they'd turned to for permission. Since febrile seizures rarely occurred in adults, Beckett hadn't known what to do.

She'd told them no, despite the terror she'd felt in the back of the limo, watching him go stiff, his eyes roll back. She'd told them no because she just didn't know enough. . .didn't know what he was allergic to or how his family reacted to fevers.

And she'd been right, it seemed. No damage, no need for anti-seizure medication. Just antibiotics for his infection, a little pain killer, and he was smiling at her again.

"Kate."

She stood and felt the dress flutter around her body, the silk now sticky with her sweat and damp from the soap and water where she'd tried to clean out the worst of it.

He raised his arm and it hit the bedside railing, fell back to the waffle-patterned blanket. Kate stepped forward and cradled his hand in hers, trying to ignore the rush of indignant and desperate need. Need to move, to get this solved, to figure out who was doing this to her. To fix *something.*

"What's happened?" he said finally.

She shook her head. "Mary filed a police report on a break-in. My. . .my fingerprint's been found inside the safe-"

"Oh, God, no. Kate-"

"Shaw's got my back. At least to the NYPD. But. . ."

"How could Powell-"

Kate squeezed his hand as Castle's face clouded. "Not Powell. No. We didn't leave a trace. We closed the safe door. Everything as it should be. But someone came in behind us. Set me up."

She could see by the look on his face that he didn't like this, didn't like where this put her.

"I'm supposed to fly back to the city ASAP."

He looked crushed and she shook her head at him, leaning in to brush a kiss over his warm forehead.

"I told Shaw no. However long it takes, Castle."

He gripped her hand harder. "You should get back. You might. . .might need a lawyer, Kate."

"I'm not leaving. Not now." Something dark stole over his face; Kate watched his eyes lose their light.

"The bank. The guy. . .Russo? You still haven't found them."

Kate closed her eyes and tried to battle against that wound, his distrust, his certainty that she would always put her mother's murder before him.

But she didn't know how to fight it with words. Only by being here, showing up. "No. I haven't. As soon as the doctors release you, we'll get on a plane for New York. I'll do damage control then."

"And Russo?"

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, struggled agains the tug of grief in her gut, then had to fight off the instinctive pull of the mystery, of discovery, the cool and sweet temptation of having answers.

Maybe she would keep putting her mother's case before him. It seemed destined. She couldn't escape it; the need was like a hungry beast battering at her.

Hopelessness welled up, spilled over her eyes. She angrily smeared them away, twisted her hand out of his so she could swipe at her face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he was murmuring, straining to reach her. She kept backing away. "We'll get him, Kate. It may take a little more time, but we'll get him. We'll find the guy setting you up and we'll-"

"Shut up, just. . ." She shook her head and swallowed hard, eyes lifted so she didn't have to see him. "I don't care about that right now. I don't - Castle, I watched your lips turn purple, your whole body go rigid, the fever practically broiling your body. I had to make decisions about your treatment, damn it, and I don't even know if you can take sulfa drugs or if you have a history of heart disease-"

She felt his arm hook around her waist and tug; she stumbled to a stop and glanced to the ceiling for space, her heart choking her.

"I'll shut up. I promise. Just - just look at me."

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes again, swallowing hard until the urge to fall apart receded somewhat.

"Kate, please."

She nodded, dropped her hands. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not." He lifted his hand and rested it against the bed railing so he could run his fingers over her belly, soft and light. "Crawl in here with me? I'll scoot over. I want. . .want to have you with me."

Her throat burned; she sucked in a shaky breath and tried to keep her heart going steady. She watched him carefully adjust his body over, using his good elbow to slowly maneuver. When he was mostly on one side of the bed, Kate gave it up and crawled in with him.

The dressed rucked up over her knees as she slid under the covers; Castle startled at the feel of her bare legs against his, but snaked his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek, her temple, the side of her mouth.

"We'll go over my medical history later, okay?"

She snorted and closed her eyes, desperately holding back hysteria. This wasn't her normal self; Kate Beckett was stronger than this, better than this.

"Hey, Kate. You've been running top speed for half a year. It's okay to rest. Just need for awhile. Need sleep or food or me. . ."

She did laugh at that, softly, and found that her body was relaxing almost against her will.

"That's more like it. Since I'm out of commission, you may as well be too, right?"

She nodded against his shoulder and lifted her head to kiss the side of his jaw, letting her lips linger along his skin. Her hand stroked a slow line down his chest, fingers brushing his belly button as she teased his mouth open, sucked lightly on his top lip.

"Ah - Kate-" he breathed and turned his head into hers, his cheek pressed to hers, his breathing rapid. "Kate - I want - want-"

"Sorry, sorry, hush," she murmured. "Hush." She put both hands to his cheeks, kissed him lightly on the chin, the jaw, her lips pressed together, chaste. When he gentled, she let her hands stay at his neck, curled into him, stopped humming.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love this even when it kills me."

"I'll try not to let it kill you," she whispered back, and kept him close.