A/N: This chapter is rated M. Beckett's POV from the last chapter… plus a little extra heat toward the end. No storyline progression, so if you skip it you won't miss out on anything important.

Enjoy : )

She looked at herself in the full-length mirror that perched itself in the corner of Castle's spare bedroom. She looked awful – overtired and underfed. Her weight loss wasn't obvious when fully dressed – especially now that she was favouring oversized jumpers and jeans instead of her usual work attire – but standing here in nothing but Castle's old Metallica t-shirt and her underwear, her frame seemed so fragile under the barely-existent weight of the fabric.

She lifted the fabric of the shirt, exposing her stomach in the mirror. Her hips protruded – but not an alarming amount. She didn't want to worry anyone… she just simply wasn't hungry. But she could feel Ryan and Esposito watching her, eagle-eyed, when they brought in copious amounts of food… most likely trying to find something, anything, that appealed to her diminished appetite. So, she would peck at the food that would be placed in front of her each day… to appease them.

She sighed, disappointed in herself… for how she was managing so poorly right now. She angrily flipped the light switch, making her way across the dark room and climbing into the comfortable king-sized bed. She did wonder why she was bothering… sleep wouldn't come easily, just like it hadn't come easily any other night. It didn't matter how comfortable she made herself… her mind simply wouldn't switch off. And by the time her need for sleep grew too strong for her mind to fight, the sun would be rising, and she would wake after only an hour or two.

She could be of use – downstairs, with Castle, sorting through the never-ending pile of seemingly pointless papers. But he had refused her help on her first night here – and every night since, as soon as Ryan and Esposito call it quits for the night, she is more or less banished to her room. His room, she reminds herself… she shouldn't get comfortable.

They hadn't talked about where exactly they stand, right now. She was torn – she wanted to forgive him, to put aside all her anger and to make the most of what time she had left with him… but that was easier said than done – and he was regretful enough to go at her pace for now. She did wonder how long that could possibly last… but she pushed that thought away as quickly as it popped into her mind.

She tossed and turned, trying to shut down her thoughts, for hours. The frustration rippled through her body, causing uncontrollable tremors. If it weren't for the sticky coolness of sweat on her forehead, she could almost convince herself it was freezing cold, the way her body was acting right now. She took a deep breath. In… out… she regained control, and the tremors ceased. But only for a few seconds. As a tremor shook through her body, she threw off the blankets… fuck.

It was like all the tension and repression of the past week was trying to tear its way out of her… she needed a good cry, perhaps? She got out of bed and paced around in the dark, trying to relax enough to allow the first tears to fall… but nothing.

She groaned, growing more impatient by the second. She was never going to be able to sleep if she couldn't unwind – every muscle in her body constricting more with each tremor. She stopped pacing, closed her eyes and forced more deep breathing. In… out… in… out… With each breath, her muscles loosened. But again, only for a short time.

She needed sleep – but before she could get that, she needed a distraction. Thinking back to her brief romance with Castle, she knew he was fully capable of providing a blissfully gratifying distraction…

But no – that would be so unfair on him.

He had been so cautiously navigating her all week – being an inextinguishable presence, but never forcing himself into her any more than she had allowed. And, so far, she had not allowed anything even close to something

She knew he wouldn't oppose to such a proposition. In fact, the way his eyes would search her, constantly, he would probably jump at the chance to climb into bed with her. But she couldn't give him anything more…

Quieting her thoughts, she could hear the faint noises of ceramic cups clanging in the kitchen. She walked to the bedroom door, creaking it open just slightly. The light from downstairs faintly illuminated the hallway and she could hear him humming… but she couldn't quite make out the song. She edged closer to the top of the staircase… down the first few steps… the sweet aroma of vanilla and coffee tickled her senses. Just a few more steps… the dining table – now covered in what once seemed like their only hope – came into view and she couldn't help but notice his progress. Intrigued, she threw caution to the wind and headed over to inspect. He hadn't acknowledged her, so she assumed he hadn't heard her. And he's supposed to be keeping watch… great. She shook the negativity in her mind… he was just as sleep deprived as she was – and he didn't have to be doing this. He didn't have to allow her to stay… he didn't have to completely disregard his body's schedule so that he could stay up all night, allowing her the chance to at least try to sleep.

She pushed down the guilt that was rising, until it settled deep in her stomach. She could deal with it there – she couldn't deal with it forcing its way up her throat until she felt miserably nauseous.

But the nauseous feeling came back with a vengeance when her eyes started roaming the several semi-patched documents on the table. Thus far, they had managed several NYPD letterheads – slowly gathering bits and pieces of the actual documents… but nothing that joined together to form any sort of sense, a few cash orders – incomplete, of course – and the beginning of several photographs. Castle had made impressive progress on one of the photographs… no faces, no recognisable landmarks… but she knew exactly where this photograph was from. The alley, where her mother was found. She swallowed down that nauseating feeling, sensing his eyes on her. It wasn't long before she could feel his presence behind her. The warmth radiating from his body was comforting, she wouldn't lie. And when he was brave enough to place his hand on her, she thought that maybe – in this moment – he needed her, too, to make it through this night.

"This one is a crime scene photo." She pointed to the indistinct image. He had seen it before… she knew, because she had shown it to him. In a moment where she allowed herself to be vulnerable, she shared her mother's case file with him. Another wave of tremors ran through her as she allowed herself to feel something. She missed how unexpectedly pleasant she had found it, allowing herself to be vulnerable around him. For a moment, she yearned for that vulnerability again, and she had to wipe away those tears she had earlier tried to lull from their hiding spot.

She folded her arms across the guilt taking residence in her stomach and leaned back, finding him sooner than she thought. She didn't even have time to change her mind, before his arms snaked around her, holding her secure. Her head rolled, nestling into his neck – the warmth of his cheek pressed against her forehead. When he leaned in and placed a tender kiss on her temple, flirting with danger, she twirled herself in his arms, kissing him as if this past week had never happened.

They both knew this was wrong – wrong place, wrong time, entirely wrong situation. But their bodies were so in sync… how could something so wrong feel so right?

They expertly navigated through the living room, kissing and tearing away the too many articles of clothing he had been wearing. His hands roamed her body under his old shirt – his new favourite shirt. He grazed his thumb along the underside of her breast, growing more excited with each sigh and moan she let slip against his mouth. She was breathy, already – the fire inside growing with every slight touch.

They made their way through his bedroom until, finally, she felt his bed contact the back on her knees. They had collided too fast, losing balance and falling into a heap onto his bed. But the fumble didn't slow them down at all.

"Castle…" she moaned his name as his mouth made its way down her neck, swirling his tongue gently against her most sensitive spots. He could feel her pulse, strong under his touch. He pushed the shirt up, and she shifted, allowing it to come easily over her head. Discarding sloppily on the floor beside him, he worked his way down, laying gentle kisses over her chest, working his tongue around her nipple. She closed her eyes, laying her head back and fully enjoying this. She was pleasantly distracted. She groaned, disapprovingly, when his warm mouth left her body – but only for a second, moving across to give the other nipple the same attention before moving his attention down her navel and across the lacey band of her underwear.

She thrusted her hips forward, allowing for quick disposal of the only thing standing between his mouth and the warmth radiating between her legs. She couldn't stop the guttural sounds that escaped her when he finally made contact exactly where she needed him. He hooked his arms around her legs and hips, holding her in place while he explored her every groove. Another tremor rocked her body – but this one was fuelled by pleasure. She rocked her hips, heightening the electric feeling that buzzed through her. Her back arched off the mattress and her chest heaved, her heart racing. She felt the coil in her belly, growing stronger until at last, with a final involuntary cry, all the tension was released, and warmth spread across her entire body.

With her newfound relaxed state, the fatigue weighed heavy on her. That, and the after-effects of the orgasm still rippling through her, made it near impossible for her to move from her current position.

Happy that he had satisfied her, Castle crawled into position – climbing under the sheets on his side of the bed – and pulled her in closer to him, encouraging her to get under the sheets too, and pulling her firm against his side. She began to trace shapes on his bare skin, touching areas she found to be particularly sensitive in the past.

"You need sleep." He whispered into her hair, settling her busy hand in his and gently shifting her so that she was in a more comfortable position for sleeping. He began playing with the loose locks of hair that fell over her shoulders… it wasn't long until she fell asleep and he could get back to work…