A/N—This is romance centered with strong mutual Hurt-Comfort themes. During Kate's recovery from being shot, she decides to call Castle and they are there for each other. This is a non-canon, multi-chapter short story.

I really wanted to imagine what it would have been like if they would have been together during in her recovery as she dealt with her physical issues and they both wrestled with their feelings. So I'm playing with that a little.

New Story: Post Season 3 AU

The Conspiracy: Chapter 1

The hurt Castle felt at Kate's silence after being shot grew by the day. He wanted to be there for her. Three weeks passed without a word, and as much as he tried to throw himself into her case with Ryan and Esposito's assistance, the feeling of rejection swelled. As he realized he wasn't going to solve her case, he started to wonder if there was any connection left to bind them. His timing hadn't been great, but he had told her he loved her, something he'd kept locked and hidden from her for so long, but she hadn't even heard him. And now she was gone. Each day he began to think it was less likely that he'd ever hear from her again.

One evening after dinner he sat in his office, fluctuating between periods of furious typing and long moments of static uncertainty, when his phone rang. He glanced at it, and when he saw her face and name, he was momentarily stunned. Putting down his laptop, he looked again just to be certain, and then answered as calmly as possible. "Kate?"

"Hey, Castle," she replied, her voice lacking its typical authority and strength, but hers nonetheless.

He had a million questions, but began with the one at the forefront of his mind. "Are you okay?"

Dismissively, she replied, "I'm fine." Then she cleared her throat and returned a question. "So what's new?"

The conversation continued for a few minutes as she sidestepped or minimized any question he had about her life, but she posed many. She asked about his family, his book, even the mundane tasks of daily life. He answered each and every one, preventing the end of the call as best as he could.

"Look, I don't have anything new to read. Any chance I could get a sneak peek of your new story?" her weaker voice questioned.

"It's nowhere near finished."

"That's okay. Just read me part of it."

"Read it to you?"

"Yea."

His uncertainty was overpowered by his desire for a connection with her, so he complied, starting at the beginning and reading. He read the first two or three pages when Alexis came into his office, talking to him before she realized he was on the phone. As soon as Beckett heard the interruption, she said, "I should go anyway."

"I could call you back," he offered, missing the days when hours upon hours were spent together.

"Is it okay if I call you tomorrow?"

She did call him the next evening, and almost every evening that week.

She didn't want to talk much about herself, although she succinctly told him she was healing. Beckett didn't mention Josh in any conversation, and it cut through him to imagine Josh by her side day after day. Rick wondered if the doctor was working the evening shift, thereby freeing up Kate to call in the evenings. He doubted Josh would approve of these daily, non-work-related chats.

He tried not to think too much about it, but it still bothered him. He knew she didn't love Josh, not really. The question, "How's Josh?" formed in Castle's mind nearly every time they spoke, but he never allowed the words to materialize because he didn't want to ruin the few minutes they had together. For the time, it was enough just to be communicating with her, exchanging words, hearing her chuckle and, yes, even her scoff when he said something ridiculous.

Each night he'd read her a few paragraphs of his book, but only after she'd ask. One night he teased, "All of these personal readings you're requesting are inflating my ego. I'm starting to think you might be a pretty big fan."

"I may be," she replied, her voice lighter for the moment.

"If we were in the same room and you had a sharpie, I could give you an autograph." He guessed she could see through his thinly veiled attempt at a suggestion that she finally let him see her, hidden as a joke for his own protection. He held his breath as he waited for a response that he figured would never come. He could almost hear her telling him that she was tired and needed to go.

Instead she answered, darkly teasing, "Trust me, Castle, you wouldn't want to see me anyway."

"Why would you say that? Of course I want to see you. As soon as you're ready."

"I need to go. Call you tomorrow?"

"Kate—" he began, cut off when she ended the call.

How was it possible that every single phone call was both fulfilling and immensely frustrating?

The following afternoon, shortly after lunch, Castle heard a knock at the door, and found Beckett's father standing nervously in the hall. "Is she okay?" Rick asked, immediately fearing her father would only be visiting if something horrible had happened.

"I believe," Jim replied. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"Please, come in. Can I get you a coffee?"

Beckett's father nodded, but didn't waste time before getting to the point (a trait Rick guessed was passed on to Kate). "I'm concerned Katie is in trouble," the elder Beckett stated.

"Did you call the precinct? Report it?" Rick worriedly asked.

"Not that kind of trouble."

"I spoke to her last night, she sounded okay."

"She spoke to you?"

"Yea," Castle said, gesturing to the open chair next to him at the table.

"She was here?"

"No. Phone call."

"I'm worried. She's always wanted to handle everything herself, carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, and usually she does it well. But not lately. She's pushed me away. She's on her own, and—"

"On her own? What about Josh?"

"She didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Rick asked, feeling more hope mingle with his concern.

"She broke up with Josh, shortly after the shooting. She was supposed to be staying at my cabin, but I went up to bring her some groceries and she wasn't there."

"You tried calling her?"

"Yes. I've spoken to her, but she's being evasive, keeping me at bay. You know my daughter. If she doesn't want to let someone in, she won't. She's hurt, lost…She hasn't been this upset since her mother's death. And perhaps that's why she doesn't want me there. I didn't handle Johanna's passing well. Maybe she doesn't want to hurt me, risk my sobriety. But I'm worried about her out there alone. I don't know what she's thinking. She assures me she's okay, but I know she isn't. Physical recovery is slow, I'm sure that's bothering her. She's used to being strong, self-sufficient…in control."

"She hasn't told me where she is."

"She's not at home. Lanie doesn't know where she is. Josh is apparently already overseas. The truth is…if anyone in the world could get through to her, find her…it would be you. Could you help me, please?"

"She doesn't want to see me right now. I'm lucky she even calls."

"Even if she doesn't want to admit it, she needs you, Mr. Castle."

"Rick."

"Rick. She trusts you more than I've ever known her to trust anyone, even me. She'll confide in you. I just want to know she's okay. I don't like thinking of her out there."

"I think you overestimate the amount of sway I have in this situation."

Jim shook his head and cleared his throat. He stared the Beckett stare, and said, "And you…you underestimate how much she cares for you. How important you are to her."

Rick couldn't wait, couldn't just walk away. If she needed him and he needed to be there, nothing would get in his way. She had asked for space, he remembered that, but the moment she called him, she invited him back into her life. At least that was the story he told himself.

It didn't take long to find her, though. A few hours hanging out at the precinct, and he finally found Detective Galley, a woman from Drug Enforcement. Her family had a small lakefront place upstate. It took some convincing to get her to admit that she helped Kate, and confess the location of her family vacation spot, but Castle was relentlessly charming. And finally she caved.

He made the drive to the small town the next morning, mentally writing and rehearsing the coming conversation over and over to prepare for their meeting. In his mind he'd pictured a lake house, like a place he would rent, with a sprawling wraparound porch and vast picture windows. The place where Beckett was staying was simple and small, a wooden cabin clearly constructed with reclaimed materials, likely by the same family who owned it. It was cozy, but modest, probably the size of his living room alone in the Hamptons. Still it seemed a fitting place to go into hiding, surrounded by trees, nature, and fronting a glassy grey lake.

Rick grabbed only his laptop bag and the cardboard cup carrier filled with two coffees and got out of the car. He climbed the wooden front steps, leaving a hollow but muted thud on each. Stretching his neck as he prepared for whatever her reaction was to his presence, including the possibility of rejection, he lifted his hand to knock on the door.

Then he heard a groan, and it wasn't a pleasured one. Carefully and quietly setting his laptop bag and drinks on a rocking chair, he sidestepped to the first window by the door and peered through the glass. Typically in situations like this, Beckett was in front of him, gun at the ready. Looking inside, his heart lurched as he saw Kate standing in the middle of the room, a tall man looming behind her, his hands wrapped around her arm and shoulder. Although Rick knew from experience how well she could normally handle an attacker, he was certain she wasn't recovered enough to fight just yet.

He prepared to break in the door with his shoulder, but thought better of it. If he failed, he'd simply make a loud noise that would alert the attacker. With the utmost care, he wiggled the doorknob and found it open. He rushed inside, crashing full force against the man who'd made the terrible mistake of targeting Beckett. Kate harshly yelled his name as he found himself astride the thug. Rick pulled his fist back, prepared to hit the guy until his knuckles pounded with pain.

But his arm was abruptly halted in midair, and when he turned, he saw it was Kate who stopped him. Her eyes were welling with tears, her face contorted in a display of physical pain. "Don't," she demanded, but her voice lacked its typical authority.

"Are you alright?" Castle questioned, still ready to pummel the man below him.

"He wasn't attacking me," she explained, stepping back and clenching her side. "He's my physical therapist. Roger."

"Oh," Castle said with a forced smile, standing up and reaching out his hand to help the guy up.

Roger declined the assistance, rising and hurrying over to Kate. "Are you alright?" he asked, taking her arm and testing her range of motion.

"I'm fine," she answered. "I'm so sorry—"

"I get it," Roger smiled gently at her. "Given everything you've been through, your loved ones are a little on edge."

Kate stared at the ground as Castle, too, looked away. This was all so awkward between them, and he wished that wasn't the case.

Roger and Kate decided he'd return another day to continue therapy. Castle watched as the young, incredibly fit man gave her exercises and instructions to care for herself. All Castle wanted to do was wrap her in his arms, tell her how happy he was that she was alive, how much he'd missed her and couldn't wait to see her. But she wasn't herself. The Kate he knew was in there, he could tell, but she shared her body with an abundance of pain, loss, frustration, and sadness. It was almost like those elements sharing Kate's body with her were winning over, shoving her true self into submission.

Just as Roger left, Rick went to the porch to gather the things he'd brought and found her in the kitchen. It was filled with mismatched, outdated appliances and cabinets, and a wood stove so old Franklin probably could have built it himself. Kate rested against the tilted, off-white fridge with a tall bottle of water, eyes closed as she wrestled with her pain.

"I'm really sorry," he said as he approached.

"It's fine," she shook her head. "It's actually sweet that you were so concerned."

"Of course I'm concer—"

"But you don't belong here," Kate interrupted.

"Of course I do. You're my partner."

"Well, I'm not a cop. Not right now. Not for a while."

"I'm not a cop either, but that never stopped me." Knowing that this was going to turn quickly into a battle of words, he dodged. "Actually, the real reason I'm here is because I'm concerned that your needs aren't being met."

"Needs?" she snapped. This was not going to be easy with her.

"Yes," he answered, remaining at ease. "The most important, basic need a strong, healing woman has…" he turned his back to her, freed her cup from the carrier and spun around, "is really good coffee."

She fought the smile but it came, reaching carefully for the cup. "That was nice of you…to drive hours for coffee. But you shouldn't be here right now."

"Why?"

"It might impact your writing. You don't want to see Nikki Heat like this, do you? To destroy that image. That unbreakable, attractive fantasy, turned weak…pathetic. It'll ruin your book."

"It's a shame, really," he commented, coming closer and leaning on the counter next to her, shoulder to shoulder with her for the first time in what felt like forever.

"I know," she answered, her confidence sapped.

"It's a shame you don't know Nikki Heat, or me, as well as I thought you did. Sounds like someone needs to refresh herself with my more recent works. I'm willing to read them to you if you'd like."

"Cas—"

He moved almost imperceptibly closer, and interrupted, "Nikki isn't a superhero. Nothing supernatural about her, that's part of her beauty. She's fallible, mortal…but she's a hero anyway. When she leaps into danger, stands up to thugs twice her size without blinking an eye, stares down the barrel of a gun held by the shaking hand of a man about to be held accountable for his wrongdoings, she is all too aware of her humanity, of the fragility of life because she's witnessed that very same fragility day in, day out…it's part of who she is since she crossed that yellow tape for the first time. So no, nothing I see here ruins how I see…Nikki."

She smiled quickly, just a flash, her face tilting down to the ground.

"Anyway," he continued, "I'm afraid we have a case."

"I can't work right now."

"This is important," he insisted. "A conspiracy."

"What kind of conspiracy?" she doubtfully asked, walking gingerly to the stool by the kitchen peninsula and taking a seat.

While her back was to him, he flinched a bit, feeling such incredible sorrow for the agony she was in. Before facing her, he re-donned his happier expression, and said, "I think someone's listening in on our calls."

"Who?"

"Mob. CIA. Aliens. Jealous writer-muse duos."

"Exactly why would they do that?"

"Trying to get the scoop on my story…figure out the lightning in a bottle that is our interpersonal chemistry."

She chuckled. "If you don't want to give me a preview, you could just say so."

"I do. I just need to do it safely," he hurried to his computer bag and produced his laptop. "I'll read it to you right here."

"So you drove all the way up here to read to me in person because of a conspiracy you clearly just invented?"

Feigning offense, he gasped, putting his hand over his heart and standing across from her on the other side of the counter. Then his phony outrage evaporated and he confessed, "Pretty much. Also, I do have a slightly selfish reason."

"Go on."

"I needed to talk to you, to hear your way of speaking. I was having some problems with dialog, so I needed to soak up some verbal-Beckettishness."

"You couldn't do that on the phone?" she asked the question but immediately foresaw the excuse, and said, "That's right, I forgot…someone's spying on you."

"Exactly!"

They sipped their coffees for a few moments, and then Castle said, "I am sorry about the therapist. Think he'll come back?"

"Yea. He will. I know you were just trying to have my back. It was sweet. A huge overreaction, but sweet."

"Given recent events, it didn't feel like a huge overreaction," he defended.

"Yea. I guess you're right."

She seemed to be pulling inward again, so Rick continued talking, "The NYPD pays for private in-home physical therapy?"

"No," she scoffed. "I met him when Josh and I were dating."

"Were dating?" Castle questioned. He knew her father thought the relationship was over, but he wanted to hear it straight from this Beckett.

"Umm, yea. Josh and I aren't…together anymore. We broke up."

"Oh, that's too bad," he answered, wishing he could dance with utter joy.

"Yea. Well, it was for the best. And I think he'd rather be saving the world anyway, so it worked out for everyone."

"But his friend comes up here to help you?" Castle wondered suspiciously.

"Yea. He heard about what happened and offered. He's really good."

"I'll bet he is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're recently single, he's trying to be here for you in your hour of need, not to mention that he has the perfect excuse to be close to you, touch you, and—"

"And he's gay."

"Maybe he's just saying that to get close to you."

"Yea, you must be right," she sarcastically countered. "Maybe he got together with his husband eight years ago, bought a house, adopted a couple of kids as cover to make it look good when he eventually met me years later when I happened to get shot and need his help?"

Castle calculated the likeliness in his head and agreed, "Seems plausible."

She softly chuckled at the absurdity, but sounded almost like herself for a moment. "I suppose it does, to a man who's spent years of his life working for the NYPD for free just to hang out with me." The accusation hung in the air, no mention of research. Her eyes traveled and glanced at him without moving her head, but before he could say anything in response, she clarified, "Don't worry, Castle, I know you stuck around for your books."

"Right," he nodded pensively. "So. You want to hear the next chapter or not? There are a few lines of dialog I really need your help with."

"Let's go."

He visited her two days later, and again two days after that, and each time they read some of his newest work, although usually only a page or two. It was an excuse, he knew she knew that, but she played along. Often they enjoyed short walks by the lake, or whatever carryout meal he grabbed on his way out of the city. He made the long drive each time, leaving as early as he could and returning home very late at night, but he needed to see her. He hoped at some point, he'd be able to break through, to get her to open up and talk about things they really needed to talk about.

He still remembered when she opened up about her mother, the way she finally trusted him enough to share. With Beckett, pushing wouldn't work unless she was ready. He would wait again.

On his fourth visit, he arrived just as Roger was leaving. The therapist didn't appear pleased to see him. Roger paused. "Not a good day to come."

"She okay?" Rick asked.

"She's pushing herself too hard. Rest is just as important as exercise."

"Well, good news, we weren't planning on mountain biking today."

Roger narrowed his eyes. "Try to make sure she takes it easy."

Castle walked in and found Kate seated, leaning against the table with her forehead propped against her knuckles, a large cold pack across her ribs.

"Hey. You alright?" he asked.

"Of course. I'm fine. Didn't hear you."

"Can we stop this, Kate?" he seriously queried.

"No one made you come here," she bit back.

"That's not what I mean and I think you know it. You pretend you're fine, but I can see that you're not. "

"I am."

"You aren't, Kate. You're hurt physically. You're hurt emotionally. You've been through hell. That's why you're here, why you've hidden yourself from reality."

"I'm not hidden. I let you visit. I called you, remember?"

"Yes. And you've kept me carefully at arm's length. But I guess that's nothing new, right?"

"I don't know what you want from me, but I'm fine."

"You're fine? You think I don't see the way it hurts when you pick up a mug with your left hand? You think I don't realize all of the things you've lost these past few months?"

"I'm not feeling well, Castle. Maybe you should lea—"

"You're going to prove me wrong by running away? By shutting me out as soon as I try to have a real conversation with you?"

"I've been through a lot lately—"

"That's exactly my point. I know what you've been through, but I don't know how you feel. I don't know what you're thinking and I want you to tell me."

"I can't make a joke, laugh it off, and act like nothing happened. It's not that easy."

"I know that. I don't want you to act like it's nothing…I want you to act like it's something. Tell me what it is. How you feel, anything. I'm listening. I'm here, Kate. I want to know. You can trust me."

"You want me to tell you it hurts? You want me to tell you how infuriating it is that I can't go for a run in the morning? That I can't soak in a tub for a few more weeks until my incision heals? That I can't take a shower without seeing the scar on my chest? That I still feel the hole in my heart when it beats?"

"Yes. If that's how you feel, I want you to tell me. Remember…remember how you told me that all you wanted was someone to be by your side? To have someone to jump into life with together? Well that's me."

"What are you saying?"

"Just that I'm here. I want to be here. I want to jump into all of it, the good and the bad, the pain, the laughter, the frustration. I'm here and I don't want to leave. And if the only way you'll let me stand next to you is as your friend and partner, so be it. I'll take what I can get. But please don't push me away."

"I don't need—"

"I need. Do it for me. I need to be here. This is my fault and—"

"How in the hell is any of this your fault?"

"If I never would have pried into your mother's case," his face contorted as he tried to hold back his tears. "If I wouldn't have poked, reopened those wounds…"

"I forgave you for that years ago."

"But it all led to this. Josh was right. It's my fault you were shot."

"Josh? He didn't understand. He thought he did, but he didn't. And he's gone."

"Why is he gone?"

"I liked him, so much. But I didn't…I didn't love him. He was wrong about a lot of things. And what happened was not your fault. Not at all. And when I'm better, I'll find the bastard who did this."

"Still the fact remains that I played a part in stirring this all up. All I want to do is help, to make it a little more right. Make sure you're okay. Let me do something, anything…to be here for you. Because I'm so sorry."

"You didn't shoot me," she firmly stated. "It isn't your fault! Damn, Castle. What happened to the guy who did whatever he wanted, got into trouble with impunity, then called in favors to the mayor to make it all go away? Now you want to take responsibility for something that is not your fault?"

"Being with you…it's changed things for me. Don't you see that? Seeing the way you carry a piece of the pain for the victims and their families, the way you fight for them. Those tragedies aren't your fault, but you feel responsible. I see that over and over again. And, apart from my daughter, the relationship I have with you is the most important one of my entire life. So, please…don't make me go. Let me carry a small piece of that pain for you until we can get justice. I watched you slip away, Kate. Saw the color drain from your face, the strength slip from your grip, the life from your eyes. I felt that loss, what it would be like. I can't…I won't lose you. Not without a fight. And I'm begging you not to shove me away like I don't matter."

"You don't have to leave… But none of this is your fault," she explained.

He was on the very precipice of declaring his undying love, again. The urge to tell her neared compulsory levels, but he paused as she rose from her spot and placed her ice pack on the counter. She moved with such caution, like she was navigating through a maze built of shards of glass, and he wondered if her caution was only due to physical pain. He faced her when she came near, bracing for the moment to come.

Kate's face turned to the side and she leaned nearer until her cheek pressed against his chest, then much of her torso followed. Her left arm remained pinned tightly to her body, but her right curled around his side. It took him a moment to realize she was hugging him, leaning softly into him, and it filled him with an indescribable sense of fulfillment. It was the most open connection he'd ever felt from her.

Then he practically kicked himself when he realized he was standing there without responding. His hands moved to her back and shoulder, careful not to apply too much pressure because he didn't want to hurt her. He simply held her as she held him, suspended in that moment.

Next up-Chapter 2, Castle helps with Kate's recovery