They close the remaining distance between the path and the lighthouse, approaching the small picnic area housed under a gazebo. The wooden picnic tables that sit underneath are old and weathered, with names carved into their tabletops. Mike and Karen 2001. Tyler was here. Pat and Sue 4Eva.

"Looks like this place comes with its own history," Castle says, tracing his fingers around a heart framing Lisa + Kyle. "I kind of like that they haven't tried to sand away all of the people who wanted to leave their mark. It's like a guest book."

"Maybe they've tried," Kate shrugs, eyeing a word so faded it's no longer legible and pointing it out to him. "But people kept doing it, so they gave up."

He huffs, moving closer to the shoreline to get a view of the water.

She follows him, curling into his side to enjoy the view. "I'm not trying to burst your bubble, just making an observation."

"Ever the detective," he breathes into her hair.

Kate nudges him back, "Ever the writer."

They share a moment of silence, holding each other and watching the waves crash up against the rocks. He's the one to speak first, leading off of her writer comment.

"I shot Rook," Castle says quietly, so much so she's not even sure if she heard him right over the sounds of the river.

"Does he survive?"

He nods, but doesn't say anything else, almost as though he's anticipating further protest from her.

"You know I have nightmares about that," she responds at last when she can't take his silence any longer. "Why would you -"

"I couldn't shoot Nikki. I tried. But it was too real. I couldn't relive-"

"I don't want to relive the nightmares anymore than you want to relive the real thing."

"I'm still trying to work through all of this, Kate. This is how I do that, writing is how I do that, and you know it."

She burrows deeper into his side. "You're going to have to be there, in the room, in the bed, wherever, when I read it."

"To hold your hand?"

"To help my subconscious separate you from Rook."

He places a kiss at her temple.

"Honeymoon?"

The voice from behind them startles them apart as they turn to locate its owner. A stout couple looking to be in their 70s smiles back. The woman speaks again.

"Pardon me for prying, but the way you two are all cozied up over there is just so reminiscent of those newlywed days."

Castle exchanges a look with Kate. "Oh no, we're not -"

"Marge, will you leave the poor kids alone?" the man asks before turning back to them. "Ignore her, she gets a little nostalgic every anniversary."

"Don't you go around telling people to ignore me. It's a wonder I've put up with you for 45 years."

Kate tries to hide her smile with the back of her hand.

"45 years, that's impressive," Castle tells them. "Is today your anniversary?"

"It's tomorrow actually," Marge says proudly. "See, Tim? I'm not bothering them. But enough about us, you're not newlyweds then?"

"Uh no," Kate answers her. "We've actually only been dating for a few months now."

"Yeah, but we were friends for three years first," Castle adds.

"Friends?" Kate asks with a smirk.

"What would you call it then?"

"There really isn't a term to describe that first year and a half. Partners is a good one for after that period though."

"Oh come on, I would have called us friends."

"Right from the start? I don't think so."

"I'll tell you one thing," Tim interrupts. "They bicker like an old married couple."

Castle laughs as Kate ducks her head while a blush threatens to color her cheeks.

"I'll tell you another," Marge says with a wink. "I think they're going to make it just fine. So what brings you kids up here if it's not an anniversary or honeymoon? Looking for a weekend getaway to spice things up a little?"

There's another laugh from Castle, while Kate continues to shake her head in embarrassment.

"It's kind of a long story," Castle offers. "But weekend getaway about sums it up."

"But -" the woman starts, before her husband cuts her off.

"Now, Marge, you got your answer. Don't be prying any further into their personal lives."

She waves him off. "I think those years of friendship did you good. A few months into the real thing, and already so in love. When's the wedding?"

"Marge," Tim groans, trying to guide her away.

"We're not quite there yet," Castle answers with another small laugh.

"But you love him, don't you? I have an eye for these things you know."

Kate looks up at him. "Yes, I do. Very much."

Marge claps her hands. "See, Tim? What'd I tell you? I'm always right."

He shakes his head, trying to guide her back toward the path. "You folks enjoy your time. Sorry to bother you."

"No bother at all, it was nice meeting you," Castle says with a wave as Tim finally gets his wife to come with him.

"You make a lovely couple," Marge calls over her shoulder just before they disappear back into the trees.

Castle turns back to Kate with a grin on his face. "You hear that? We're adorable."

"I think the word she used was lovely."

"Hmm yes, but if Marge thinks we're going to make it, then it must be true. She has an eye for this sort of thing you know."

"Stop," Kate laughs, playfully shoving him away from her.

"So for the wedding, I was thinking spring. If we want the Plaza we should book now even without actually being engaged, that place fills up quick."

"You're ridiculous."

She starts to head toward the lighthouse, and he trails behind her, still rambling.

"Now for color patterns, you've always liked the color purple, right? What goes good with that? Grey?"

She spins and holds a hand up to his chest, stopping him. "Are you proposing? Right now, is that what's happening?"

"I - no."

"Okay then stop planning our fictitious wedding."

She turns again and continues her path toward the lighthouse. He jogs to catch up with her, cutting her off at the entrance.

"Do you want me to be proposing right now?"

"Castle, we haven't even been dating for a full year yet."

"Yeah, yeah I know, I was just...checking."

She reaches up to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm in no rush to get married, babe. Let's just keep enjoying all this time to ourselves before we have to go back and rejoin the world."

"You mean the world isn't just you and me and a couple of cute old people?"

Kate smirks at him. "For now it is. Come on, let's go find our room."

Castle drops the duffle bag off by the rocking chair in the corner while Kate sits down on the edge of the bed and smoothes her hands across the quilt.

"I like this place," he says admiring the decorating around them. "Very rustic."

"The bed's soft," she tells him, laying down and staring up at the slow whir of the ceiling fan.

He sits on the edge with her and lays back as well, their legs still hanging over the edge with their feet flat on the floor. "So it is."

She turns her head to look at him. "What does Nikki do when she finds out Rook got shot?"

Castle keeps his gaze trained on the ceiling fan. "She blames herself at first. Keeps thinking about how she's the cop and she should have kept him away from all of this. And she's sitting in the waiting room, waiting for any sort of news they'll give her since she isn't family. And she lets her mind wander, thinking about how in a weird way, he is her family. And she needs him to wake up so she can tell him that. Because somehow, some way, she managed to fall for the guy."

"Sounds about right," she says softly.

He stops starting at the ceiling fan and looks over at her. "That waiting room is the hardest place to be."

She reaches out for his hand and pulls it over her chest, resting it above her heart. "I'm alive. You don't have to worry about being in that waiting room anymore."

"Good. Because I have no plans to go back."

She scoots closer to him to kiss him, soft and gentle. It's almost tentative, like she's trying to gauge where he is in his headspace right now. He pulls away only to slide further up the bed so he's not hanging off the edge, and guides her up toward the pillows with him.

"Want something that will compete with that coffee orgasm you had earlier this morning?" Castle teases, already tugging at the hem of her shirt.

"More than you know," she grins, allowing him to pull her shirt off over her head.

He traces his index finger around the outline of her scar and she watches him take it in. It's healed more since the last time he saw it, but it still looks jagged and ugly. He traces over it again, before bringing his lips to it, feathering them over the puckered skin.

"You may hate it, but I'm grateful this scar exists. It's there because you survived. You're alive."

"I'm alive," she nods, cupping his face in her hands, a grin spreading across her face. "Now make me feel like it."

AN: This chapter is on the shorter side because I'm debating doing an M rated insert to finish up this scene. It's something I do hope to get to, so make sure you have me on alert if you're interested, as I'll be posting it as a separate story like I did with FAE, so readers who aren't don't have to deal with skipping over it. :) Wow, that was a run-on sentence. Have a good night/day guys!