Cleavage. It was Rosie's soft, ample bosom that had saved him from a face-plant on the hard floor. Richard Castle was in pain. Memory bubbles were popping in an endless chain inside his throbbing head, each bubble more horrid than the one before it. It had all happened so fast, and sure he had tried to fight back, but Richard Castle was a lover, not a fighter. The first punch to his ribs sucked the breath from this body, and the second one left him gasping in agony. An uppercut to the cheek followed, but it was the savage stomach punch that sent him sprawling into Rosie's arms. Try as she might, the brawny waitress couldn't hold his weight, and they both fell to the floor in a miserable heap. Castle shivered at the memory of Tom's hate-filled snake-eyes glaring down at him. Needles of cold water stabbed his face, and through the haze of pain he felt Rosie's gentle hand dabbing him dry, and heard her Irish brogue utter words of comfort. Merciful unconsciousness must have followed.

"What a bloody mess." Castle threw off the blanket in disgust, and sat up slowly while his spinning head found an anchor in space. A tantalizingly familiar fragrance wafted up from the bed, and he looked down, confused. My nose must be playing tricks on me. Castle stood up and swayed slightly; he was a bit woozy but the nausea had passed. He pulled on a pair of lounge pants and shrugged into his fluffy bathrobe. Baby steps carried him to the blinding white light of the bathroom where one look in the mirror had him whimpering in despair. A comb through his dirty hair resulted in zero improvement. He needed drugs - lots and lots of drugs, and maybe an appointment with a psychiatrist. A metallic clanging noise intercepted further negative thoughts. "Alexis? Are you there? Pumpkin? Sweetie?" His daughter appeared at his door and hurried forward to hug him. The pressure of her innocent arms had his gasping for breath, but the hug felt wonderful.

"Dad, I was so worried about you." She pulled away and examined him critically, "gosh, you might want to look in the mirror. Or not."

"Yes, indeed, I've already exchanged pleasantries with Frankenstein." He smiled and tasted blood from a cracked lip. "I'm hungry, is there any food left over?"

"Yes, but..." her hand moved to his chest, effectively blocking his path, "there's something you need to know, dad."

"What is it?" He pushed past her and proceeded towards the kitchen, his trajectory decidedly wobbly.

"Dad, stop…."

A moment later, Castle skidded to a halt and let out an unmanly shriek. He promptly pivoted on his foot and did a speedy U-turn back to Alexis, who steadied him as he doubled over in pain.

"Dad, take it easy, are you okay?"

"No! What is she doing here?" he gasped, "Call 911 now because I'm going to need medical attention very soon."

"Hey Rick, are you always so melodramatic when you wake up?"

Still leaning on his daughter, Castle cast a suspicious eye on the woman standing in his kitchen, the very same woman at the heart of his troubles. "Normally they call me Mr. Sunshine. Why are you here, Kate?"

"I looked after you last night."

Castle regarded her intently. "Really? I wish I could remember."

"You look like hell."

"Thanks." Castle noticed that Kate bore a striking resemblance to an iron chef, brandishing a frying pan in one hand and an empty plate in the other. Yup, a beautiful, dangerous iron chef with a frying as the perfect weapon.

"You must be hungry, Castle; come and sit down before you fall over." She smiled. "I've got eggs ready to go, it won't take a minute."

Castle's stomach contracted and rumbled at this overwhelming priority. Kate was busy at the stove, and despite his misgivings, he approached the table warily and sat down. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Alexis inching stealthily towards the door. "Young lady, where are you going?"

His daughter froze in mid-step and turned towards him. "Kate, uh, Detective Beckett, has all the details."

"I repeat: where are you going?"

"Ashley."

Without another word, Alexis disappeared through the door, and suddenly he was very much alone with Kate. The irony was there somewhere, but his brain was too fuzzy to bother hunting for it. Instead, he attacked the offered plate of scrambled eggs, and spoke between mouthfuls. "The two of you seem to be getting along."

"Alexis is a brave young woman. She had a fright last night."

"Yeah, well," he hesitated and chewed, "thank you for coming over." Castle glanced up just in time to see Kate frowning, but he couldn't begin to guess if it was in sympathy or anger. What did it matter? He managed to get a few more delicious forkfuls past his lips before Kate opened her mouth to speak the words he was dreading.

"Castle, what the hell were you thinking, pulling this insane stunt?"

A lump of hot eggs struggled its way down his throat excruciatingly slowly, and Castle sat paralyzed with pain, afraid to swallow. She certainly wasn't wasting any time with sympathetic platitudes. The eggs finally landed in his stomach, so he coughed and cleared his throat, all the while carefully weighing his options. "Word travels at the speed of light in the police world; what have you heard, exactly?"

"A dozen versions of a crazy story straight out of the Wild West. Let's see – the stars of the show are Richard Castle, Tom Demming, and a top-heavy waitress named Rosie." Kate paused and frowned again. "Talk around the watering hole has you in a fist fight inside the Haunt." She leaned over the table, eyes flashing with emotion. "Was there a plan somewhere, cowboy? You like horses, as I recall, so maybe you fell off a really big one and lost your marbles when you hit the dusty ground."

"Whoa, please, my head is spinning! Yes, my horse is an impressive white beast named Passion, and yes, I'm a John Wayne wannabe." Castle took a ragged breath, unsure if he could endure an argument with Kate. It would be a waste of time, actually, because she won every time. His eyes narrowed to her chest. "Why are you wearing my daughter's clothes?"

"Like I said, I was here all night."

So his nose hadn't malfunctioned after all, and incredibly, she had slept with him for at least part of the night. The miracles never ceased, but he couldn't let her get under his skin before they got to the bottom of the mischief. "So, if you know what happened, then I believe there's something you want to tell me, Kate." Castle watched as she fidgeted and stalled for time; how hard could it be to tell the truth? The minutes passed; Castle burped and coughed, Kate scowled.

"Okay, cowboy, you lassoed me. I confess; Tom and I had one last fling when we shouldn't have." She pulled her hair back impatiently. "It was a mistake."

Dejected, Castle fiddled with the fork on the empty plate, "Judging by what Tom said, he didn't think it was a mistake."

"It's ancient history and I want to forget it ever happened. Lord, I can only imagine the crap coming my way at work on Monday."

"What about me? I won't be able to show my face in the precinct until this dies down."

"Maybe that's a good thing. Anyway, if you were so busy tending your own bar, how did you find the time to start a fight?"

"Look Kate, like I said, I don't want to argue." Castle got up carefully and deposited the dishes in the sink. His energy was already running dry and Kate's angry attitude was not helping. Discouraged and miserable, he sunk heavily into the cold chair and closed his eyes. Visions of wild horses galloped through the fields of his mind, the hoof beats tearing apart the delicate neurons of his brain. A storm of a headache was just over the horizon. Kate was speaking again, but he only caught the last of her words.

"Are you listening? I asked, what horrible things did Tom say about me?"

"Ah, so flippant, detective, but I really don't have the energy for a speech."

"Castle," she growled.

He wet his lips and tasted blood again. Kate wanted details, so he would give her details. It would hurt them both and change their relationship forever. "Succulent, perfect tits. Sugar sweet lips." He held her eyes captive across the table and spoke each word succinctly. "Delicious piece of tail. Silky skin; energy of a tigress."

"Tom would never say that."

Castle nervously shredded his napkin into narrow strips while he wrestled with his conscience, but there was no point in holding anything back. "His pals whooped it up while I sat listening from the next table." He rolled the bits of paper napkin into a ball. "My heart ripped in half."

"What else?"

"No concern for my torn heart, I see." He coughed and winced. "Tommy continued on with explicit details on what he wanted to do with your delectable body parts."

"Betrayed."

The word was a shocked whisper. Kate appeared close to the breaking point, and Castle was already there. He idled his way to the kitchen and swallowed a few painkillers. This conversation had his stomach in knots, and he doubted that his lunch would stay down for long. Leaning on the counter for support, he cast one good eye over her flushed face and continued with the bloodletting. "Demming is still bitter that you dumped him."

Kate's eyes flashed in a moment of anger. "You don't know anything about it. Why did you hit him?"

"Well, let's see...it must have been the references to your creamy white thighs and the way you take off..."

"I get it," Kate interrupted, "nothing left to the imagination."

"Tommy passed out your number and declared that you were available for a good time. Are you?"

"How dare you."

It was done, and he'd said too much. The water-glass clunked on the counter and Kate's chair hit the floor with a jarring thud. Castle wanted to take her in his arms and make her forget every other man, but this was not the time. "Forgive me for being blunt, Kate, but you're playing dangerous games. Tom wants you, Josh wants you, and I feel like the fool caught in the middle, the fool who watches and waits for an opening that never comes."

She stood and stared, as if weighing his words. The argument was over, but there was no winner this time, only two battered, remorseful souls. He approached but did not touch her. Kate's hand rose to caress his cheek and Castle knew he was in over his head with this unpredictable woman. Her eyes were dark pools of mystery, shining wet with unshed tears. Castle kissed her hand before she could pull away; she sighed against it and spoke softly, as if tired and defeated. "Rick, you could never be a fool, but why did you want to be a hero?"

Anger created a burst of raw energy and he used it to capture Kate's wrists in a tight grip. She gasped in surprise and struggled, but he pulled her towards him until their bodies touched. His voice was a rough whisper scraping against her cheek. "I'm no hero, sweetheart, I'm just your faithful sidekick, remember?"

"I didn't ask you to take a bullet for me," she breathed the hot words into his ear.

"No man humiliates my woman and gets away with it." Castle winced at the bright stars beginning to burst behind his retinas. He released his grip and pushed her away. "Open your heart to the beautiful truth, Kate. I've seen your horse – she's an exquisite black mare named Spirit, and she's waiting to take you anywhere you want to go."

"I'll go with you and Passion around the world, Rick, but now you need to rest."

"Yes, bed would be good." Castle went down hard as his tired legs filled with lead. Kate's strong arms swooped in to gather him up, and they lurched together in slow motion towards the bedroom. Castle suspected he had reached the end of a dusty road, and the thought of fading away into the dark was strangely comforting. The journey seemed to take forever, but at last he flopped down on his bed, vaguely aware that Kate was pulling off his robe and urging him under the covers. Provoking Tom had been foolish, but his determined heart had set the rules and now his battered body was paying the price. Kate murmured soothing nonsense while fiddling with his pillow, and he wanted to smile and say thank you but his mouth wouldn't let him. At last she stepped back, and he held his breath at the love that was captured in her tear-filled eyes.

"Sleep now, my brave cowboy. I'll keep the home fires burning."

Castle nodded and closed his eyes, and in the silence broken only by his woman's quiet weeping, he heard the shrill ring of a cell phone and her tentative answer. Within moments, a trembling but powerful anger in her voice replaced the tears in her eyes.

"So stupid, Tom, you could have killed him. Yes, I love Rick, and I'm warning you, stay away from us."

The man on the bed closed his eyes and heard nothing more.

The nerve of the creep. Kate tossed the phone on the floor and moved to sit on the edge of Rick's bed. Tom still had a flame burning for her, but how could he be capable of such violence? In hindsight, Tom's black hat and wild horse should have been clues enough, but he had come into town oozing charm and had so easily seduced her with his display of virility. How stupid to have fallen for a villain, and now the thought of Tom's hands on her body made her stomach heave. Kate took a breath and wiped away the useless tears. Her future was here, with the man who had defended her honour and now suffered the wounds of his decision. Kate cast her mind back to those campy spaghetti westerns from television. What had women done back in the old days when their men were wounded and out of action? Those guys got stomped by horses, run over by wagons, bitten by snakes, and well, the list was endless. Their girlfriends and wives must have cooked, baked, and cleaned until their fingers were numb. They rounded up the chickens, applied bandages, spoke words of comfort, and on top of all that, some even changed diapers and read bedtime stories. Kate decided to simplify. This was Manhattan, not some tumbleweed town; in this neighborhood, Mammy's bakery churned out fresh pies, Lee's Chinese cooked up excellent take out, and Frankie the dry cleaner could fix almost anything. Bandages were easy, and as for the bedtime stories, she could think of one or two that might entertain a grown man. The baby diapers, however, were definitely a thought for another day.

So this was where their story began. Kate stretched out against his long, solid body, and with his steady breathing as a backdrop, worked out a simple plan: when Rick woke up, she'd offer him water, kisses and a ride to the hospital. Over the next few weeks, while their man recuperated, the Castle women would band together to guard the homestead against shifty lawman and dusty outlaws. Martha could do the cooking and cleaning, while Alexis, young and strong, would be in charge of chopping wood and tending to the horses. The rifles were Kate's domain, as were Rick's daily sponge baths and bedtime stories. She smiled up at the ceiling. Cowboy Rick would regain his stamina in no time, and they'd saddle up Passion and Spirit and ride across the land in search of a kiss-worthy sunset. Yes, it was a good plan, and Kate reckoned that she could pull it off single-handedly while sitting backwards on a mule. Not that she really wanted to sit on a cranky mule. No, the mule would have to go.

Kate rolled off the bed and stretched, feeling energized and optimistic. The homestead was hers until Martha and Alexis returned. There was plenty of time to tidy up, rustle up supplies, and order tonight's dinner from Lee's Chinese. Kate glanced once more at Rick's relaxed face and turned to glide silently out of the room. Alexis was right, being in love was wonderful.

The end