Author's Note: The third chapter revolving around "Sucker Punch."

Then Came Love

Chapter 58

Kate couldn't breathe, couldn't think, the panic licking at the edges of her mind. She felt as if her heart, her lungs, were in a vise.

Her whole vision had tunneled, narrowed down to just the two men. Dick Coonan, the man who had killed her mother. Castle, the man she–

She cut off the thought, couldn't think it, couldn't go there, not now. She had to focus, had to do this. She called up every ounce of whatever strength she had–the strength Castle believed she had–drew on every bit of her training. She was a cop, a homicide detective, she'd been trained for this, and she had a job to do.

This was her job, nothing less and nothing more.

Her muscles were locked, so tense she almost ached, not that she noticed. One step at a time. Take it slow. One step.

She blocked off everything else, heard her own stiff voice almost as if it belonged to someone else. "Even before I arrested you, you knew my mom was your victim." She didn't think about the meaning of the words, the impact of them. A fact. That was all it was. A leading statement in an interrogation.

"Wasn't personal. Hey, she was just another job."

She crushed down any reaction. She'd known that already.

"Who hired you to kill her?"

"Forget it. You'll never touch him. They'll bury you."

Him–there was a him, a specific person behind it. No, focus. She'd known that too. Another fact, that was all. Another step.

"Tell me who–" was all she managed to get out and then things started to spiral because Montgomery moved, took his stance, his gun out and cocked–and she was hardly aware of what she shouted. "No! No, no! Sir, I need him alive!" Oh god, she did need him–Castle–she pushed aside the stark thought.

Two cocked guns now, one pointed straight at Castle–the bystander, the civilian.

"That's right. You do need me. Now back him off or Castle dies."

She closed off her ears, her heart. This was her job, what she had to do. She knew backing off went against everything that Montgomery had trained for but she had no choice, not now, not yet. Not with Ca–a civilian hostage at risk.

She had to stall, had to calm things down. And a gun pointed at Coonan was not helpful.

"Sir. Back off. Please."

"You know I can't do that."

She didn't look at her Captain, didn't react, couldn't so much as breathe. There was only Coonan and–his hostage.

She met Castle's–the hostage's–eyes and inwardly shook because there was something in his eyes, his look, that she recognized, a reminder that she knew him, that he wasn't some anonymous hostage. She shoved her emotions aside. Focused only on what he'd been trying to communicate. He was thinking, planning something.

"If you wanna learn who ordered the hit on your mommy, you'd better make sure I make it outta here."

She knew the use of the term 'mommy' was deliberate, trying to get a rise out of her, and she clamped down hard on any reaction. Focus, she had to focus. There was nothing and no one else right now, just Coonan, the Captain, and–the hostage.

Cas–the hostage–shook his head almost imperceptibly.

She allowed just a little crack in her wall of emotion. "Roy, please."

She didn't know whether it was her use of Montgomery's first name or the please or her tone–but it worked.

Montgomery lowered his gun.

One gun down.

"That's right, Roy. Nice and easy," Coonan spoke, his voice smooth, confident. "Nice and easy."

She caught Cas–the hostage's–eye, saw something flash in his expression–an instant of warning, communication–and then he moved, reared back to smash his head into Coonan's nose–Coonan staggered back, his gun aimed–

She grabbed her gun and took her shot in the blink of an eye, the way she'd been trained. Didn't think, just reacted. She did what she had to do, did her job. Protect and serve–protect civilians, protect the innocent.

Coonan staggered, fell, his gun clattering to the ground with him in what seemed to take an immensely long time.

She forced her muscles to move, breathed for the first time in what felt like hours. She'd done her job but now she wasn't just a cop anymore. She rushed towards Castle–Castle, not a hostage any longer, lifted a hand to his face, his chest, still breathing, still standing. He fleetingly touched her arm–he was alive, if pale and a little shaky, but alive. And that was everything.

Thus reassured, she fell on her knees by Coonan's body, starting chest compressions, not looking, not seeing, as Coonan's eyes glazed, went blank, empty. Lifeless.

She didn't see, didn't hear anything except the pounding of her heart, her ragged breaths as she counted out the chest compressions. She didn't know she was crying. Over the body of the man who had killed her mother.

A hand touching her shoulder was the first thing that seemed to shock her back to reality. The hand, the touch, the arm curling around her shoulders–she knew them. Her body recognized them even before her conscious mind did, her mind sluggish, slow to follow, but her body knew. Her body knew, obeyed his gentle tug, sagged back into his embrace.

She gasped, choked on a sob, and the rest of the world, reality, came flooding back into her mind as if she'd been galvanized awake. Coonan, the man who'd killed her mother, was dead. She'd killed him, taken the shot.

Made her choice. Chosen her life, her future, her… Castle–over her mom. She had done what her mom would have wanted. She knew that. We don't owe the dead our lives…

For her baby, her baby's father–for her future. She'd lost… what had been her raison d'être, her main driving motivation of the last 11 years.

She crumbled, fell apart, choked on more sobs, and she was only peripherally aware of Castle pulling her closer into his arms as she turned her face into his chest–his still warm, living chest–and cried.

She didn't regret it, not for a second, would do the same thing but that didn't mean it didn't hurt, didn't mean it didn't feel as if she'd lost something important even if what she had saved was so much more important.

She burrowed against him and cried until her sobs eased, her tears eased to a slow trickle, and listened to the steady, reassuring thump of his heart in his chest. The tangible, audible reminder of why she had done what she had.

She was a cop; she would choose to save any life over a debt to the dead. That it was his life was almost–almost–inconsequential.

"Beckett… Detective Beckett." The faintest emphasis on her title penetrated her mind, her title in that tone, spoken by that voice, tugged on her professional instincts, pulled her from her fog.

She lifted her head slowly, feeling as if her head had suddenly become too heavy for her neck.

It was Captain Montgomery–of course it was–she knew his voice. He was standing beside them, looking down at her, at her nestled against Castle.

She wasn't capable of blushing or feeling any embarrassment or self-consciousness at the moment, all other emotions drowned out, although she vaguely thought that she probably would feel some embarrassment later. Just not then, not yet.

"Detective Beckett, go clean yourself up and then come see me in my office," Montgomery directed, his voice quiet and oddly gentle even as it was also professional, his 'Captain' tone.

The tone worked, called on her professional instincts.

She straightened up, only then becoming belatedly aware of her coworkers, most of them studiously not looking at her, and the boys who were. Next to her, Castle shifted, pushed himself to his feet, and then grasped her arms and gently lifted her to her feet as if he knew–which he likely did–that she would not have been able to stand up on her own.

She stood only to almost stagger back immediately after because her eyes had fallen to Castle's chest, his shirt, streaked with blood. In her mind, she heard Coonan's voice–he will die slowly and in considerable pain…

She suddenly felt dizzy–

"Kate!" His hands were on her arms, grasping firmly. "I'm fine, it's not my blood."

Not his–oh. She steadied herself, looked down at her hands, her bloody hands. Coonan's blood, on her hands and on Castle's shirt.

Bile surged inside her and she jerked out of his grasp and fled for the restroom, vaguely aware of hearing Castle's voice calling her name, but ignoring it as she hurried, using her shoulder to push open the restroom door and then staggering, falling to her knees before the closest toilet to throw up. There wasn't much in her stomach because she hadn't been able to force herself to eat anything more than some yogurt that morning, not with everything going on, and she found herself mostly dry-heaving.

She choked and gagged and wasn't sure how long she stayed there, on her knees, bent over the toilet–it felt like a short eternity–but eventually, she managed to push herself up, using the toilet and then the stall to stand, before making her slow, not quite steady, way to one of the sinks. And finally, washed her hands, scrubbed the blood off of them until her skin felt a little raw. She took a wet paper towel to wipe her mouth and tried to avoid looking in the mirror. No need to see just how awful she was sure she looked considering how she felt.

She knew Montgomery was waiting but she delayed a little longer, moving almost by rote now as she used more wet paper towels to try to clean off the marks her bloody hands had left on the toilet and the stall. It gave her something to do, the trivial actions somehow helping. And at least it meant the bathroom no longer looked like the scene of a crime.

She emerged from the restroom to see Castle, his shirt streaked with damp in an attempt to clean off the blood stains that hadn't really worked. He hesitated a little but then, the usual professional distance they tried to keep between them in the precinct had already been blown to pieces and he rested his hand on her back. She shifted a little closer to him, curving her spine into his hand.

She tried her best to ignore the momentary hush and then the increased buzz of sound as her coworkers put on a very bad show of not watching her and not talking about her. It was only fortunate, or something, that she was too emotionally wrung out to muster up any annoyance or self-consciousness.

Two morgue attendants had arrived, she noticed, and were working to move Coonan's body with Lanie supervising with half an eye–but then the moment Lanie caught sight of her, she turned and headed straight for Kate like an arrow fired from a bow.

Lanie caught one of Kate's hands in both of hers, studying her face. "You okay, Beckett?"

No, she wasn't but she could not admit as much aloud, not in the middle of the bullpen. She fell back on deflection. "I need to talk to the Captain."

Lanie narrowed her eyes but accepted the excuse reluctantly, no doubt understanding that Kate wasn't ready to share any more at the moment. She fell back, releasing Kate's hand, and Kate forced her feet forward the remaining steps to the Captain's office with Castle keeping step beside her until he stopped at the door to the Captain's office.

She entered the office alone, closing the door behind her, briefly considered the seat before his desk but decided to remain standing because if she sat down, she wasn't sure she'd be able to summon the energy to stand up again.

The Captain studied her for a long moment and then finally said, "I'm sorry, Beckett. I know what all this meant to you and I'm sorry it ended like this."

"I did what I had to do, Sir," she managed, trying with limited success, to sound detached, professional.

"I know you did," he agreed. "I talked to Castle and Officer Thompson briefly to find out what happened with Coonan, how he got a gun, but I do need to hear it from you too, Beckett."

She steeled herself, again, tamping down on all her emotions as she briefly recounted what had happened in the cells, the threats Coonan made, trying to pretend she were simply reporting on an incident she had heard about, something unrelated to her. Fortunately, the Captain was astute enough, experienced enough, that he didn't require much, could read between the lines to form the whole picture with only an outline.

He nodded, putting his pen down. "All right, thank you, Detective. I'll take care of writing the incident report and I'll have Esposito and Ryan take care of the paperwork to close the Jack Coonan case. I told Castle to take you home now but come and see me tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir, thank you," was all she said. She knew there was going to be a lot of paperwork to take care of, there always was after a fatality, even more so when a cop killed someone on duty, and while she was confident of the result, it was still a relief to know that the Captain would take care of the paperwork aspect, so she would not be required to recount the whole thing herself.

"Beckett."

She met the Captain's eyes again. "Sir."

"You did good today."

She tried not to wince. She had done her job, made her choice, and while she didn't regret it, she also felt… hollow. She had killed the man who killed her mom; in its way, it was justice. But in doing so, she had also lost her best lead into who had actually given the order, paid to have her mom killed. And she had to wonder, was there something, anything, else, she could have done? Could she have tried to incapacitate Coonan but not kill him? Her mind felt too sluggish to think properly but even so, no, she didn't think she could have. It would have been too big of a risk to Castle and that was not a risk she could take.

She had done the right thing, she believed that.

But even so, this didn't feel like any kind of victory.

As if guessing her thoughts, he went on. "I know it won't feel like it but I'll tell you what I've learned over my years on the job. It's not about victory. For us, there is no real victory; we catch killers but the victims are still gone. That's the nature of things. What we do is not about winning some final victory, it's about the battle, doing what we can to take our stand. You did that today, Beckett, made the right choice."

"Thank you, sir," was all she managed to say.

He gave her a nod of dismissal. "Now go home, Beckett," he told her, his voice and expression softening to become more that of the mentor and friend he was. "Get some rest and I don't want to see you back in the building before 10 a.m. tomorrow."

"Yes, Captain."

Lanie was still waiting for her, along with Castle, outside in the bullpen. She met Lanie's eyes briefly. "Can we talk later?" she asked.

Lanie's eyes had narrowed on her face but she nodded. "Of course." She glanced at Castle. "Look after her."

Castle gave Lanie a distracted nod but didn't look away from Kate's face. "I have your things," he offered a little uncertainly.

She nodded tiredly, reaching out to grasp the lapel of his jacket. "Let's go home."

That was all she needed to say as he accompanied her out of the precinct and this time, didn't wait to be asked before ushering her into the passenger seat, not that she would have protested. She still felt a little too shaky, unsteady, to want to be driving herself.

What Kate hadn't expected or thought of was that Alexis would be home when they arrived at the loft but the girl was standing in the kitchen when they pushed open the door. Kate's steps slowed, stopped just inside the door, for the first time in weeks thinking that maybe, she didn't want to be here at the loft right then.

The teen looked over with a smile and a greeting hovering on her lips that immediately vanished as she saw the blood stains on their clothes, her face blanching paper-white as the utensil in her hand clattered to the floor. "Oh god, Dad. Daddy?" she choked on the childish moniker and then she was running across the front room to throw herself at Castle, who caught her with a little grunt.

"We're fine, sweetie," he hurriedly reassured, pressing a kiss to his daughter's red hair. "Something did happen at the precinct when a killer tried to escape and had to be shot but no one else was hurt. We're both fine, not a scratch on us," he soothed, meeting Kate's eyes over Alexis's head with a mute request in his eyes.

She stepped up to rest a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Your dad's right," she offered her own reassurance.

Alexis lifted her head and released her dad only to throw her arms around Kate in turn. "You're really okay?"

"We just need to change and get cleaned up and we'll be as good as new," she infused as much false confidence into her tone as she could (with limited success to her own ears). And met Castle's eyes to see the gratitude–no, the love–in them. She did agree that Alexis absolutely did not need to know how close Castle had come today. A shudder went through her at the thought, the memory. She wished she could forget how close Castle had come today herself.

"Oh, okay." At least Alexis accepted the reassurance as she stepped back to look at Kate and then at Castle. "You go, get cleaned up. Can I do anything? Are you hungry?"

"Can you make some of that herbal tea Kate likes?" Castle quickly asked. "And think about what you want to make for dinner, something simple, I think, and I'll be out in a little while to help. And do you know if Grams will be home for dinner?"

Clever Castle, giving Alexis some concrete tasks to focus on, distract her from her scare, Kate noted, even as the mention of Martha reminded her that she needed to call her dad.

Oh god, her dad. She needed to tell her dad about Dick Coonan and that their best lead to finding out who had really killed her mom was dead.

She barely heard Alexis's answer that she didn't know of Martha's plans but then Castle was sliding a gentle arm around her and gently leading her to their bedroom.

He moved to retrieve some of her loungewear from the dresser for her to change into while she sank onto their bed and pulled out her phone to call her dad.

"Hello, Katie?" her dad answered his cell before it had finished ringing even once, telling her that he had probably spent much of the day expecting, waiting, for her call.

"Dad," she greeted, noting Castle momentarily pause at the sound of her voice, glancing at her. She swallowed and managed to say with reasonable steadiness, "We caught the killer and he's dead."

But if she'd hoped not to worry her dad too much, she knew she'd failed as his tone immediately sharpened. "What happened, Katie? Are you okay?"

"I'm–" she paused, swallowing hard. She couldn't say she was okay, she tried not to lie outright to her dad and she didn't trust her voice to be able to lie convincingly right now anyway. "I'm at home, with Castle," she answered instead. "It's… over for now. He–his name is Dick Coonan–"

"Dick Coonan," her dad repeated, interrupting her, his voice sounding unlike himself. Her heart clenched at the name. After all these years, they had a name, a face, to put to the man who had murdered her mother. The man who'd broken their family, broken both her and her dad in so many ways.

Castle sank down onto the bed beside her and slid his arm around her shoulders and she listed into him.

"Yeah, Dick Coonan. He… he tricked us and tried to escape so I had to shoot him–" she broke off abruptly. It was not the first time she had shot someone on duty but she had never said so outright to her dad, although she knew her dad had to be aware of it if only because of the press coverage that always accompanied any police officer's shooting someone on the job, news items that her dad kept an eye on for obvious reasons.

"Are you okay, Katie?"

"I'm–" she choked a little and then found her phone being gently tugged out of her hand by Castle.

"Hi, Jim," he greeted her dad, giving her hand a brief squeeze as he met her eyes. He paused for what had to be her dad's asking about her. "Kate's still here. I just thought that since I was with her all day today, I can tell you what happened, make it easier for her."

He paused to listen to her dad and then answered, "She kept her calm today, as she does. She doesn't flinch, as I'm sure you know. She was a hero."

There was another pause as he listened to her dad's response. "He is dead and that's on me. I admit it, I screwed up–"

Wait, what? She grabbed her phone back. Castle was going too far, what was he thinking? "Dad," she greeted. "Don't listen to Castle. It wasn't his fault. It was Coonan's." And realized after she'd said it that she meant it, it was true. It wasn't Castle's fault, wasn't her fault. It was Coonan's. He had created the situation that had forced her hand.

"Katie," her dad didn't sound surprised to be talking to her rather than Castle or even that upset. He didn't sound quite like his usual self but his tone was a little calmer. (Why?) "You don't have to tell me the details but I'm sure you're right. This man, Coonan, you said he was… a professional?"

"He was," she confirmed, not quite steadily. "I… I still don't know who was behind it all or why and now he's dead." She didn't continue, knew her dad would fill in the rest.

"Oh, Katie," her dad sighed. "Don't. Whatever happened, I know you and I know you did your best, did the right thing. That's all that matters, all anyone can ask. You aren't letting your mom down, no matter what happened today."

She choked a little. "Dad…"

"I mean it. No arguments, okay, Katie?"

Her dad's voice had firmed a little, enough to let her know that further protest wouldn't work. She bit back her automatic rebuttal. "Yes, Dad," she conceded dutifully.

"Good. Now," his voice softened again, "how are you feeling? Is the baby okay? Have you eaten?"

"We're just about to eat," she assured her dad. "Captain Montgomery told me I could come in late tomorrow so do you want to get breakfast together tomorrow morning?" she asked on impulse. She did want to see her dad, wanted the comfort and reassurance of his presence, and she knew he was worried about her too.

"Yes, that sounds great," her dad agreed immediately.

She and her dad agreed to meet for breakfast at a restaurant he knew of not far from his office and then she ended the call after promising her dad that she would eat and get some rest.

Afterwards, she sighed a little and let her head rest on Castle's shoulder and he tightened his arm around her.

"Your dad's okay?"

"You should know; you talked to him too."

"Yes, but I don't know him as well as you do. I can't read his tone like you can."

"I think he's okay," she answered slowly and then added, "He sounded as if he might be taking this more in stride than I am."

She felt him stiffen slightly–what–and then remembered what he'd said to her dad. Wait–had he really–she had thought he'd been saying it to defend her and reassure her dad. Did he really–she hadn't imagined he might have meant it, that he might actually think… She lifted her head to look at him, noting the faint frown between his brows, the gloom clouding his eyes. She had thought he was worried about her–and she knew he was–but for the first time it occurred to her some of the shadows in his eyes were from guilt. Oh. Oh, Castle…

"It's not your fault, you know," she told him quietly.

Something like a wince flitted across his expression and he dropped his eyes. "I screwed up…"

He what? He hadn't. He'd… given $100,000 in order to catch her mom's killer. An almost unfathomable amount of money to just give away and for all his weak quip that he would only take it from his advance for the next Nikki Heat books, it didn't lessen the significance of the gesture. (The amount of money he had was mind-boggling to her.) "Castle–"

For once, he ignored her, went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I did. I… I messed up, got in the way. If it wasn't for me–"

"No, Castle," she interrupted him firmly but quietly. "Coonan would have tried what he did with anyone; it wasn't you. And if it wasn't for you, I would have never found my mom's killer." It was true. It was because of Castle, because he had been the one to ask Dr. Murray to look at her mom's case file all those months ago and then Castle must have told what he'd found to Lanie (she knew she herself had not allowed him to go into detail about his findings, had cut him off and kicked him out), and that had allowed Lanie to recognize the wound similarity. Yes, this was due to Castle, because he had cared enough to look into her mom's case.

"I would have never found my mom's killer," she repeated again quietly–and for the first time, she felt… a measure of calm, of acceptance, settle over her. She had killed the man who had killed her mother, ensured that he could never kill again. After 11 years, she had justice, even if it was a limited one.

She lifted her face to kiss him softly, gently, one of her hands coming up to cup his cheek. "I don't blame you. I'm grateful."

He jerked his head in automatic negation. "If it's about the money–"

"It's not," she cut him off. "Not only about the money," she added honestly–because this was Castle and she would not lie to him. "Castle–Rick," she amended, moving her fingers to gently ruffle the soft hair above his ear in one of those caresses she knew he liked, to emphasize her point, and saw the softening of his eyes, his expression, at both her use of his first name and the caress. "I'm grateful for how much you care, how much you've always cared about me. It's why you looked into my mom's case all those months ago," she said quietly.

He winced a little. "Kate…"

"Ssh, I know that's why you did it; you tried to tell me so That Night and I didn't listen but I'm telling you now, I understand and I'm even glad you did it."

He blinked. "You're glad?"

She grasped one of his hands with hers, moved it to curve over the swell of her stomach. "My dad said something yesterday, that all this, this new development in mom's case, might be my mom's way of reaching out and I thought that he was wrong, that this baby was actually my mom's way of reaching out. Because we wouldn't have the baby if you hadn't looked into my mom's case back then and you know–you have to know that I don't regret it. I'm so glad…" Abruptly, tears stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly before managing to go on. "Sometimes, I can't believe that I'm here, that I have all this, a baby–you…"

A little shuddering breath escaped him. "Kate… being with you like this, this baby–it's all I've ever wanted…"

There was no possible answer to that other than a kiss so she kissed him, softly, lingeringly, a kiss that broke apart when they both felt the little nudge in her stomach.

Castle gave a breathy little laugh, patting her stomach gently. "Sprout, don't you know it's not nice to interrupt your mommy and daddy when they're having a moment?"

She choked on a laugh. "I don't think she's going to listen."

"Well, she's not moving again, is she? So she did listen."

She rolled her eyes at this piece of (il)logic but the effect was ruined because she couldn't resist giving him another quick kiss. "How's your head?"

"It aches a little but I'll be okay once I take some Tylenol." His lips quirked into the closest thing to his usual smirk that she'd seen all day. "I have a hard head, you know."

She lifted a hand to brush her fingers ever so cautiously over the back of his head where he'd head-butted Coonan. Her throat tightened and she thought, again, of how close it had been. She had almost lost him… "I'm so glad you're okay," she managed in a strangled whisper.

He lifted his hand to gently grasp her fingers, bringing her hand around to press a kiss to her fingers. "I'm fine, thanks to you."

"And your quick thinking," she managed to add. Because it was true. His quick thinking had distracted Coonan just long enough, given her the chance to save him.

His lips parted. "I–"

But before he could go on, they both heard the sound of Alexis's voice calling, "Dad?"

Castle turned his head. "I'll be right out, Alexis," he called back and then kissed her again, briefly. "I guess that's our cue to change."

She nodded. They could talk more later. They had time. Thankfully, they had plenty of time. "I think I'll shower first." It was irrational but somehow, it still seemed as if she could feel the phantom sticky wetness of Coonan's blood on her hands.

"Okay." He changed his clothes and then left her to shower, scrubbing every inch of herself until she once again felt clean and if a few tears escaped her eyes, again, they mingled with the shower spray on her face and could be ignored.

After she had showered, she went out to the front room to join Castle and Alexis. Even now, she wasn't used to having other people around so constantly, at least not when she was upset or had had a bad day at work. Some part of her still automatically thought she wanted quiet, solitude, after a bad day.

But as she ate dinner somewhat cautiously (a little nervous still after vomiting earlier in the precinct), she found that there was a comfort to being with people–or more accurately, a comfort to being here with these people, her family. A comfort she hadn't known in so many years, a comfort that still surprised her a little, of being surrounded by the easy warmth and affection that was so much a part of the Castle family, now her family too.

And of course, Alexis was sweet, her company undemanding, and tonight in particular, the girl was a little subdued after her earlier scare on seeing them with bloody clothing. (Kate was conscious of a little relief that Martha was not there for dinner tonight. As fond of Martha as she was, as kind-hearted as Martha was, her company could not be said to be restful.)

Alexis lingered downstairs to watch some TV with them longer than she normally would on a weeknight but it was clear she wanted to stay close to her dad for a while. Kate and Alexis curled up on either side of Castle on the couch as they watched a National Geographic program about whales.

Kate leaned against Castle, her head resting on his shoulder, her eyes drooping as tiredness caught up to her but then her eyes flew open as she felt a little kick in her stomach. Her hand came up automatically to her stomach and she noted Castle's eyes darting down to her stomach before his gaze lifted to meet hers. And they smiled into each other's eyes. Their baby, again making her presence felt, a tangible reminder of all they had to be hopeful for.

Once Alexis went upstairs for the evening, after giving both her dad and Kate hugs goodnight that lingered a little longer than usual, Kate and Castle were able to retreat into the private haven of their bedroom.

They turned wordlessly to each other once they were inside and she went straight into his arms, lifting her face to kiss him as their clothes fell away.

She pushed him gently back onto the bed, her hands exploring, caressing, glorying in every inch of his so familiar, living body, seducing him, making love to him. And this really was what making love should feel like, she thought fuzzily, as they moved together, slowly, not rushing the moment but letting the heat and the pleasure build until they both slid over the edge into bliss.

Afterwards, she lay curled up next to him, her head resting on his shoulder, one hand on his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring thump of his heart. Proof that he was still alive, still here, that she hadn't lost him.

Unbidden, she felt sudden hot tears sting her eyes as a little shudder trembled through her. It had been so close, so terribly close. When she closed her eyes, it seemed she could still see the gun jammed against Castle's side, hear Coonan's threats.

He must have sensed the tension in her form because he tightened his arm around her. "Kate?"

"I'm so glad you're okay," she choked out in a whisper.

He turned his head to press a kiss to her hair. "I'm here, I'm fine," he soothed.

"I was so scared. I thought I'd lose you…"

"Never, you'll never lose me," he promised recklessly.

Except he couldn't promise that. No one could. She choked a little on another sob but somehow, with the sob came the words she hadn't yet been able to say. She was still afraid but her panic that day had loosened her tongue. "I love you." She swallowed hard, her mouth feeling oddly dry, but she went on. "I'm in love with you and I was so scared. I thought I'd lose you and I hadn't told you–"

His hand turned her head, lifting her face so he could cut her off with a kiss, a soft, lingering kiss in spite of the somewhat awkward angle. "I already knew," he told her quietly. "Of course I knew. I knew because of the way you talk to me, the way you let me hold you."

Her lips trembled into a faint smile. "You knew?"

"I've known for weeks, since we were at the Hamptons, I think, and definitely since last Monday, the day… well, that day."

Oh, he'd known since The Anniversary. She supposed it was… oddly fitting, that he had known, for sure, since that day. It was another reason, a good reason this time, for That Day to be remembered.

"Did you really think I didn't know?"

"I… hoped you knew?"

"Well, I did know–not that you shouldn't feel free to keep telling me how much you love me."

She huffed a little laugh. Trust Castle to make her laugh even at a moment like this.

His tone softened. "I love you too, Kate, always."

She felt her heart lift, happiness blossoming inside her, a little surprisingly considering all that had happened that day. She lifted her head and he lowered his and their lips met in another long kiss. He loved her and she loved him and although she supposed that had been true for a while, it still felt… different now that the words were out in the open, now that they both knew, for sure, that they were loved.

They kissed until she felt a little kick in her stomach and they both broke apart with him giving a small breath of a laugh as if he couldn't quite hold it in.

She curved a hand over her stomach. "Hush, baby." She glanced up at him. "She's starting early, finding it gross when we kiss."

He laughed again. "Yeah, well, she'll just have to get used to it because I'm not about to stop kissing you any time soon."

"Prove it."

He huffed another laugh and then he did just that, kissing her again and again, a long, delicious series of slow, leisurely kisses, until finally, some time later, they drifted to sleep.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: Apologies in advance but I won't be able to post next week as I'll be out of town. There are just two more chapters and an epilogue to go and then this epic of a story will be over. Thank you, as always, to all readers and reviewers.