Hiding a yawn behind her right hand, Alexis descended the stairs. Why did summer make it so hard to sleep in with its blindingly bright early sunrises? Granted, it did not help that she had an east-facing room. Perhaps, she wondered, an earlier bedtime was required, but where was the fun in that?

"Morning Gran," she spoke as she shuffled her way in the kitchen, searching for a caffeine fix.

"Shh," Martha hushed her. "You'll wake your father."

"Wake him…." Alexis repeated, perplexed as to why that would be an issue.

Martha set down the open New York Times beside her orange juice glass. "More accurately, you'll wake his guest." Alexis arched an eyebrow. "Detective Beckett."

"No way!" she gasped a few decibels louder than she should have. Once again her grandmother hushed her and she continued more quietly, "You're kidding! Are you sure?"

"Positive," Martha proclaimed proudly. "She stopped by around eleven thirty and I'm sure she didn't leave. What time did you get home?"

"Just before one. I didn't see them."

"Well obviously they'd already gone to bed by that point."

"Ohhh—ew!" she scrunched up her nose on her way to the refrigerator. She supported her father's relationship with the detective as much as anyone else, but she certainly didn't need to visualize it. She shook her head, trying to rid her mind's eye of the image, and turned back to her grandmother. "So Kate was released from the hospital then?"

"Evidently, but that's all I know. I was upstairs and after I heard who was at the door I stopped listening. I just hope-"

Martha was interrupted by the front door opening and Rick slipping in as stealthily as possible. He wore jeans and a polo shirt, his hair messy. He carried in his right hand a paper bag and, somewhat alarmingly, a black purse. Before he could take more than three steps towards his bedroom door, he was interrupted by a not-so-subtle throat clearing.

Rick straightened his posture and turned to face his curious family. "Good Morning everyone."

"Good morning," the two ladies replied. "You're up early," Martha added.

"Well yes, um, I just…wanted to run some errands before it got too crowded," he explained rationally.

"Oh well it's a good thing you didn't forget your purse then," Martha said, casually sipping from her orange juice glass.

Caught, Rick's shoulders slouched. "Kate needed her medications, which she left at her apartment…along with her purse, apparently."

"So you went all the way to her apartment to get them for her? Dad, that's so sweet," Alexis smiled. He smiled in return before slipping in to his bedroom.

Much to his relief, she was still asleep in the same position he left her, surrounded on all sides by pillows, lifting and tilting her body in to the only position she deemed comfortable. He set the items she requested on the nightstand and then returned to the kitchen area to retrieve a glass of water for her to have with her pills. Luckily, neither of the other women in his life commented about his unexpected guest and he was able to return to the bedroom in silence.

He attempted to sit down on the bed as gingerly as he could but his mission failed and her eyelids began to flutter. "Good morning…again," he sighed. They'd both been awake at five-thirty and discussed her medication situation, hence his early morning retrieval mission.

"Good morning," she repeated, finally opening her eyes. Her gaze softened at the sight of his oversized grin.

"How are you feeling? Did you sleep alright?"

"As good as could be expected."

"Here," he spoke as he passed water, paper bag of medication bottles, and purse across the bed to her. She thanked him and began rummaging through the sack with her left hand. Four pills later she returned the lids to the bottles and set them back in the bag.

"I should get going," she said as she began to push herself up in to a sitting position despite the agony that movement caused.

"Hey, slow down there," he said reaching out his arms, unsure of what way he could help her. "You don't have to fly out of here. What's the rush?"

She said nothing, but the look on her face indicated that her brain was going through its fight-or-flight protocol. "I'm serious," he continued. "Let me make you breakfast. Then I can draw you a bath—I have a big Jacuzzi tub," he said enticingly.

"Castle, I didn't come here so you could take care of me," she told him matter-of-factly.

"I know that."

She groaned, half with pain, half with annoyance. "So stop trying to take care of me."

"Kate Beckett you were shot. You have a broken collar bone, two broken ribs and a collapsed lung; you are in no state to be alone."

"Thank you; I am well aware of my injuries. I'll be just fine; you don't need to help me bathe."

"But I've already seen you naked," he jested in a deep tone. She glared at him. "Ok, ok. At least let me make you breakfast?"

Kate agreed simply because she knew he'd never back down otherwise. After the painful task of dressing herself (he offered to help her, but she refused) she followed him out of the bedroom only to come face to face with his mother and daughter, both sitting at the kitchen counter grinning at her. "Hi…" she said dumbly.

"Hello," the replied in unison, their smiles growing wider if that was at all possible.

While her traitorous partner completely ignored the situation and went directly to the fridge to retrieve breakfast-making items, Kate was left to deal with the awkwardness. She cleared her throat absentmindedly as she approached the counter, tip-toeing as though silent movements would make her presence less noticeable. Alexis kindly pulled out a chair for her and Kate thanked her quietly.

"How are you feeling?" Alexis asked.

"Uh," Kate began, rubbing her injured arm gingerly, "alright, I guess."

"I would think you'd be feeling much better after last night," she said. The three adults in the room shot the younger girl incredulous stares and she blushed immediately. "I-I mean because you were finally home from the hospital! Sleeping in a real bed!"

"Oh, right yes," Kate said, trying to reduce her heart rate back to normal. "Yes, sleeping in the hospital was not all that restful." She reached for the glass of orange juice Rick had set in front of her and took a long sip, debating on whether or not to drown herself in it.

"I do hope you're taking some time off to rest and get better, Dear," Martha said to her.

"Some time, but I'm hoping to get back to work as soon as possible."

"But not too soon," Rick said in an almost warning way. Kate noticeably ignored him as she sipped her juice once more. "Okay, who else wants eggs?"

"None for me," Martha said as she slid off her chair, coffee cup in hand. She walked with the cup to the sink and deposited it inside. "I'm off—the work of a dedicated teacher is never done." With that comment she whisked herself up the stairs.

"I'm going to have brunch with some friends," Alexis told her father. Then she turned to Kate. "I'm glad you're ok, Kate, and I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you, Alexis." Kate smiled at the younger girl until she too disappeared up the steps. Then, she turned to her kitchen companion, covered her face with her left hand and moaned.

"Well at least that wasn't awkward," he quipped as he cracked half a dozen eggs in a mixing bowl.

"That was horrible!" she insisted, combing hair back from her face.

"Oh it wasn't that bad. At least you're not a woman they've never seen before, dressed in red sequined dress while Alexis asks if she can start wearing party dresses to breakfast…not that that ever happened," he added casually at the intrigued look on her face.

"I'm sure."

"So what am I doing here? Scrambled or omelet? I'm sure I've got some mushrooms, maybe some tomatoes or spinach. I make a mean western, too," he said, gesturing towards her with his spatula.

"Just scrambled; I'm not that hungry."

His brow wrinkled with concern. "But you've got to eat and keep up your strength."

"Tell that to the three out of four medications I'm on which have nausea as a side effect."

Rick gave a conceding nod and turned his spatula back to the skillet in front of him. As the eggs cooked, he put four slices of bread in to the toaster. He retrieved two types of grated cheese from the refrigerator along with butter and jam for their toast.

Kate watched as he worked, impressed by his domesticity. True, he had made her breakfast before, but scrambling eggs was not the rocket science of culinary talents. Heck, even her minimal skill allowed her to do that. But this—the casual comfort he had going back and forth between the stove, the cabinets and refrigerator—was skill.

Ten minutes later, he presented her with two plates, both with two slices of toast—cut in half diagonally—and equal portions of eggs. "Viola," he smiled.

She could not help but smile in return. "It looks lovely, thank you."

He joined her at the counter and they ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. He could not help but watch her from the corner of his eye. It was clear she was frustrated with having to use her non-dominant hand to feed herself. He sympathized. He would have hated to have to use his left hand for everything. Worse yet, she only had one hand to use at all, but he knew she'd never voice any requests for aid or assistance; it wasn't her style.

"I can drive you home after you're finished eating," he offered.

She let out a bark of a laugh. "In the Ferrari? No thanks."

"I have a regular car, too," he told her with a slightly annoyed edge.

"I'm fine taking the subway."

"The subway! You're-" he froze mid-sentence. She was giving him that look that meant "This is your warning. Continue and you'll be sorry," so he bit his bottom lip and picked up a piece of toast to butter.

After finishing everything on her plate, Kate dabbed her lips with a napkin and pushed the plate away. She then rotated her body towards him as much as her injury would allow and took a deep breath. "Castle about last night…"

He gazed over to her and immediately knew their conversation was not going to be a good one. She was wearing her "Beckett is serious so don't joke" face and he just knew.

"We're both adults, we've known each other for three years, and I don't want anything to be misinterpreted so I'm just going to be honest with you."

"Okay," he said slowly.

"Last night was wonderful. It's not exactly what I was looking for when I came over here, but I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind. Either way, it was great."

"It was great," he told her. He knew the "but" was coming—he could feel it—but he wanted to prolong its occurrence as long as he could.

She smiled gently and gazed down towards her lap. "Castle, I don't think we should…it's just, when I go back to work in a couple weeks things are going to be crazy. We have to find the person that did this. We still don't know who hired that man to kill my mother. Not to mention the fact that murders in New York City aren't just going to stop because we want them to. I'm going to need my partner there with me to help me out, to come up with those great out-of-the-box theories that keep us all thinking."

"And you'll have me," he assured her.

"But just as a partner," she told him. He stared her down, just waiting for the prime moment to jump in and challenge her logic. She sighed and tilted her head to the side, softening her gaze. "I know we have these…these feelings for each other but-"

"I don't just have feelings for you. I love you, Kate. I didn't just say that because I thought you were dying. I love you." He reached for her hand but she pulled back.

"I'm not saying it will never happen between us. That's practically the opposite of what I'm saying. I just want you to know that when I go back I'm going to be focused one hundred and ten percent on work and I want you to respect that." She could see the uncertainty, the hurt in his eyes and added a slightly more desperate, "Please."

"Yeah," he said quickly then looked down at his hands clasped against the counter. "Yeah, I understand. Just, uh, just call me or text me with the date once you figure it out and I'll…I'll see you at the 12th."

"Thank you, Castle," she said genuinely. Then, without another word she slipped off the chair, hurried as much as her arm would allow back in to the bedroom, retrieved her purse and medication, and left the apartment.

Fifteen minutes later Martha descended the stairs with her eyes trained on the floor. "Don't mind me, just headed out to the school. I'll-" she stopped immediately when she allowed herself one stolen glance in the direction of the kitchen. She saw two empty plates and one very depressed looking man. "Where's Kate?" she ventured cautiously.

"Gone," he sighed, standing up and taking the plates to the sink. "She wants us to be partners—just partners."

Martha's heart sank. "Oh, Richard, I am sorry."

"I just…I don't understand!" he said with frustration. "She's the one who came here. She came to me! She's the one who…" he let his voice trail off when he remembered he wasn't around the poker table with other famous writers like himself.

"I realize that and that does mean something, but you have to remember the trauma she's been through. Not to mention the fact that you told her you love her and-"

"How is that traumatic?!" he demanded.

"To most women it wouldn't be," she told him wisely. "But she isn't exactly the heart-on-her-sleeve type is she?"

"No," he mumbled.

"See, there you go. Just give it some time and look on the bright side—at least she didn't tell you she never wanted to see you again," Martha smiled.

Rick gave her an unappreciative look. "Thank you, Mother, for your positive outlook on my life, like always."

"That's what I'm here for, Dear."