Hello. My apologies for the delay in updates. I've been traveling a lot for work, and internet access has been sporadic. I hope to be home by midweek. In the mean time, here is the next chapter, enjoy!

A place to crash, I got you
No need to ask, I got you
Just get on the phone, I got you
Come and pick you up if I have to
What's weird about it
Is we're right at the end
And mad about it
Just figured it out in my head
I'm proud to say I got you.
Go ahead and say goodbye, I'll be alright
Go ahead and make me cry, I'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to, for better for worse
I got you
Ain't falling a part, or bitter
Let's be bigger than that and remember
The cooling outdoor when you're all alone
We'll go on surviving
No drama, no need for a show
Just wanna say
I got you
Go ahead and say goodbye, I'll be alright
Go ahead and make me cry, I'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to
For better, for worse, I got you
Go ahead and say goodbye, I'll be alright
Go ahead and make me cry, I'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to
For better, for worse
I got you.
'Cause this is love and life
And nothing we can both control
And if it don't feel right
You're not losing me by letting me know

Oh…so…
Go ahead and say goodbye, I'll be alright
Go ahead and make me cry, I'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to
For better, for worse

I got you.
Go ahead and say goodbye, I'll be alright.
Go ahead and make me cry, I'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to
For better, for worse
I got you.
-Leona Lewis

Of all the things that could have happened in his lifetime, amnesia was not one that had crossed Rick Castle's mind. He was a little surprised that it hadn't; Afterall, it seemed as outlandish as ninja assassins and CIA conspiracies. Regardless, as he sat in his wheelchair, his temporary prison of sorts, looking out the front window of the loft and onto the busy city, amnesia was exactly was he was grappling with.

He still couldn't believe that any of this could have happened. Truth be told, sometimes he wondered if they'd actually had him in a coma for months, as opposed to days. At least if he'd been comatose these lapses in time would be justified. However, there was no reason, other than his faulty brain, in explaining why Richard Castle felt like he went to sleep in April and awakened in July.

So much had changed, and despite the fact that the doctors, his family, and Kate protected him from exposure to those changes, they were there nevertheless. They were looming over his head, as if something was threatening to attack and he hadn't a clue as to who the enemy was. It was thoroughly overwhelming, and highly frustrating. It made him angry.

He held to the doctor's words, to the predictions that his memories would be recovered. One day, the pieces will fit again were words that became a mantra for Castle in those early weeks. Hope that this too would come to pass seemed like the only thing working in his favor. It helped to balance the profound feelings of guilt he had over missing Alexis' graduation. It also helped to give a temporary nature to the otherwise endless-seeming experience of interacting with Kate Beckett.

His detective might have been the greatest mystery of all, as he couldn't explain her behavior. He didn't know what to make of her, the dedication that she showed him was selfless, caring, loving and committed, and it was so much more than a "that's what partners are for"-type of commitment. It perplexed him to no end.

Within 24 hours of waking from the hospital, Castle was sure of two things. The first was that he was still very much in love with Kate, and therefore still hurt by her. Opening his eyes to find her staring back, holding his hand and squeezing gently filled him with so much love, and hope; but then the confusion set in, because he knew she didn't love him. He wished he'd forgotten that part.

The realization of his enduring love was largely responsible for his active attempt to close himself off, to protect his vulnerable heart, and to send her packing when she was evidently expecting to stay with them (upon his invitation). Why the hell would I do that? He wondered about his apparent invitation to her. He tried to figure out why he would do such a thing as volunteer his home to her; afterall, the less time around her, the better.

The second thing Richard Castle learned was that despite her past behavior, her less than honest dealings with him, and her apparent lack of romantic feelings where he was concerned, Kate did care for him fiercely.

He watched her in confusion in the early hours of his consciousness, attempting to figure out why she would not let go of his hand, or why she would squeeze it supportively and lovingly, or why he would catch her gazing at him with relief, gratitude and something else altogether that made his heart beat rapidly.

Her dedication to him became even more evident in the following days, when his emergence from the coma left him raw and emotional. He'd been warned that he might feel angry, and so had his loved ones. However, Castle couldn't imagine that Kate would have been prepared for his passive aggressive suggestion for her to leave, or for the snide remarks, or the cold and impassive exterior. It would seem that Castle was angry, and Beckett was the whipping boy.

It continued weeks later when he recommended that she stay in a hotel so that he would not have to see her, although he was not cruel enough to tell her his motivation for the offer. Still, Kate took his words, the meaning behind them, the "I don't want you here", exactly for what it was.

However, instead of storming off in a rage, or running away in hurt, she simply took it. She accepted his angry undertones, and gave him nothing but sensitivity, compassion and support in return. The natural balance of their relationship seemed to have shifted and it confused him, but it did clearly show him that she cared for him.

Still, he didn't feel right going back on an offer he made, and she'd politely declined the hotel offer, opting to return with him to the loft. Even though he knew that she knew that he didn't want to be around her. Liar, he thought to himself, you always want to be around her. There was truth in his self-deprecation, afterall, wanting to be around Kate was constant, what he wanted to avoid was the heart break that would certainly come when he yearned to have a part of her she was unwilling to give.

At one point, in order to get some of his thoughts on paper, Castle scribbled notes to himself. They were choppy, and he was still under the influence of medications, but the thoughts behind the words were evident.

Ambivilant has been described as the state of feeling two extremely forceful, but opposing emotional states. This is not to be confused with Apathetic, or the state of having no feelings.

I'm currently feeling ambivilant, as I've got a very strong need to be with her. To be near her, to love her, to engage in as simple an activity as touching her hand, watching her smile, or smelling her hair. I feel a very strong pull to her, as if gravity was pulling me to her side, as if there was no other place on earth I belonged than at her side. The attraction consumes me on every level, mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually; on every level.

However, in order to save myself, to protect myself from further pain, humiliation, or heartbreak, I need to stay away. The intense attraction does not change the reality that she does not feel the same.

Repel, just like gravity pulls her to me, it must push me from her; that is- if I am to survive. Herein, I think I've got the true idea of ambivalence. This is not apathy, I care very much, I care too much, and that emotional conflict has brought me to this place of conflict and strain.

I can't live with her, I can't live without her. I wish I remembered, if I invited her to stay then something had to give. Maybe we came to an understanding, maybe she told the truth about her not loving me and I forgave her, maybe I owed her after the loss of her job?

I need to remember…How can I be around her and not understand?

He set the pen down and closed the notebook, feeling a little better, but still pretty frustrated by the onslaught of conflicting emotions where his partner, or former partner if that's what they were, was concerned. Regardless of how he felt, it appeared he was going to have to manage at least for a little while, as Kate was coming home with them.

The physical therapist came to offer his help in the following days and weeks in the hospital, working on Castle's range of motion and strength building for his good arm and leg. Kate was there then too, studying, learning, helping and preparing to step in so that he could practice at home too. Her willingness, her devotion caught him off guard, and he wasn't sure what to do with the current information.

In some ways, it would have been easier for him to process if she'd acted a little less…devoted. He'd created a mental representation of Beckett when he'd learned about her lie. It was a representation that helped him to process his heartbreak over her behavior, it was to help him let go, accept that she didn't love him, and move on. The only problem was that the Kate who stood at his side in the hospital room was anything but the cold and manipulative detective in his mind, the one that broke his heart.

This Kate was caring and gentile. She stuck by his side, she put in the work needed to help him, and she smiled at him in such a way that his defenses fell and his heart melted. He became suspicious that something was off early on when it occurred to him that she wasn't at work. However, they remained tight-lipped and elusive.

Frustrating as it was, Castle understood the need for them to not volunteer information to him. However, that did not stop him from trying to take the pieces of information around him and fit them together like a puzzle. He felt as if the answers were all around him, if only he could remember the questions to ask.

Still, Castle had an ability that should never have been underestimated by his loved ones. The man could tell a story, he could take the facts, or the clues around him and use them to create a story. It was a skill that had helped solve countless murders, and Castle was convinced that it would solve the mystery of his missing time.

Although he knew the doctor would disapprove, he could not help but examine the clues in front of him. A Beckett who no longer worked at the precinct, a Kate who was coming to stay with them indefinitely. Sure they'd said that it was until her apartment was safe to live in, but that could be weeks or months, depending on the damage to the infrastructure.

He thought on it, Kate with no job, Kate with no home, the last case he remembered. He knew that she'd put her badge on the line for him, that she'd interfered with another detective's case because he asked her to. When she told him that she had about an hour before she'd be called out on it by the chief of detectives, all he could do was reply crap.

He shook his head frustratedly at himself, way to be an insensitive asshole Rick, he berated himself. What if she'd gotten fired? What if their partnership had cost her everything? The thought profoundly disturbed him.

Returning to life at the loft was slow-going. For the first week, Castle was still heavily dosed on pain medications. It made the time pass quickly, but did little for his physical or cognitive progress. Still, the amount of pain he was in required the strong pills. Amazingly enough, the pain seemed more severe in his leg than it did in his head.

Early on, and in the groggiest moments of the pain killer haze, Rick could recall waking up to find himself broken out into a sweat. He was not able to be in any position but his back, with his arm propped on pillows, his leg propped similarly, and his head stabilized. Movement was very cumbersome. So, when Castle would awaken, he would often find that someone was sitting by his side.

Sometimes it was his mother, other times his daughter. However, most of the time, especially in the dead of night, it was Kate. She held cold compresses to his forehead, or bundled him with blankets. Castle could swear that at one point, she'd slept beside him in bed, awakening and giving him whatever he needed as the drugs continued to monopolize his system. He also wondered if those times were dreams.

Kate was given the guest room directly across from his bedroom, which provided her with quick access should he need it. It was their close quarters that offered Castle his first major glimpse into Kate Beckett, former NYPD detective, and what he did learn came in the night.

At first Castle thought that he was dreaming, or having some sort of narcotic-endued hallucination. He could hear a voice, a weak voice that seemed to be laced with grief. It was a melancholy sound that broke his heart to listen. He could tell that there was mumbling, but couldn't make out what was being said. Soon, they stopped and the person who'd been moaning quieted.

It didn't happen every evening, but at least several times a week he would hear the noise. After several weeks had passed, after his therapy had enabled him to get from his bed and to his wheelchair on his own, Castle finally decided to investigate the source of the sadness. He'd gone as far as ghost, or repetitive tv programming, but was fairly suspicious that the voice was of a person. He was also sure that the person in question was Kate Beckett.

As he quietly made his way to the hallway, the mournful sounds became louder and clearly were coming from Beckett's room. He knocked lightly,

"Kate." He whispered.

There was no response, only silence followed by mumbling and a painful sob.

Castle opened her bedroom door and called to her again, "Hey, Kate." However, he was still unsuccessful in rousing her from whatever dream or nightmare she was having.

Rick didn't need to enter the room to see Kate. The moonlight shining into her open window provided enough natural lighting for him to see the pained expression on her face. His heart ached for her, wishing to fix or vanquish whatever awful nightmare ensnared her. Her mumblings became words,

"Please. Please don't. Come back. I need you, need to feel you inside me again. I miss you, I love you. Please. Please. No…don't go…" There was pain and desperation in her voice, matched only by the pain in Castle's heart as he listened to her speak.

He grimaced, a piercing in his chest as he watched her pine for some former lover. He nodded his head sadly and spoke, "Why Kate? Why couldn't I have been enough for you? We could have had something."

As soon as he spoke, she sighed deeply and settled down. She didn't wake, but she looked much happier and calmer than she was just moments ago. It was as if the sound of his voice calmed her out of her nightmare. He backed up his wheel chair and left the room, closing the door gently behind him as to not wake her. As he rolled back into his bedroom, he didn't hear the dreaming woman's final whisper, "Make love to me Rick."

With each passing week, Rick became increasingly mobile. He became more and more able to get around on his own. His wheelchair was electronic, and his ability to steer it fell to his good hand. He'd also mastered methods of getting into and out of the chair when showering, using the bathroom and going to bed.

On one of the final attempts made by Kate to help Rick into bed, she slipped and brushed her fingers through his hair. It was an action that bothered her, but he found it to be quite comforting, almost familiar. In fact, at the very moment her hand made contact with his temple, and her fingers with his hair, Castle was struck with a strange feeling of déjà vu. He didn't know what it was about the situation, but he definitely recognized something about the feeling.

He grabbed tightly to her wrist, attempting to hold her still as he grappled with the fleeting feeling, attempting to hold onto it and make sense of it. However, it was soon gone, and so was Kate. After that, he took to transferring himself into and out of bed when possible.

At night when he would get himself situated in bed he would think back on the previous weeks, he'd still not remembered much of anything. He was sure of one thing, during the nights when he dreamed, his brain seemed more than capable of telling stories, or more specifically the same repeating story each night.

It began in the same manner as it always did. He was standing with Beckett, looking at her chest. He unbuttoned a button, then another. His fingers ghosted the scar between her beautiful, black lace-clad breasts. Instead of pushing him away or yelling at him, he watches as her fingers join his. He looks up and she is completely open to him, the love in her eyes is unmistakable.

In the next moment thunder crashes, they're falling onto his bed and removing their clothing. When he enters her it feels like home, it feels complete, and she is looking up at him from where he's pinned her to the mattress. Her eyes are still shining with love, her fingers ghosting across his features as their pace quickens to frantic. They come down together and she smiles brightly at him. Only one word is spoken, "stars."She's got a loving smile on her face and she's reaching for him again.

He awakened suddenly, the familiar empty feeling returning as he thought about the dream. It is the only dream he has had, and the only word that she ever says is "stars." He always feels disgusted with himself, admonishes himself for his inability to keep her out of his dreams.

He thinks back to the panties he found below the bed. Who on earth would they belong to? He was promised by his mother that he was not dating any women that she knew of that would be missing him. He'd considered her suspiciously when she'd told him, but she reiterated.

"Richard, I promise you, there is no woman out there wondering what happened to you."

He's never been a creepy guy, he doesn't steal women's panties, but holding on to the soft black lace, feeling the material in his fingers is somewhat comforting. It is as if they will offer some sort of insight into the lost chapters of his life. His mother told him to throw them out, Alexis screamed 'eeww' and left the room, Kate blushed furiously and added nothing to the conversation.

A/N: The story will progress from here, as more flashes start to occur and Castle realizes that deja vu may be meaningful, and that dreams may be more than just dreams. All this with a tense shower scene, and a major scare for Beckett reveals more to Castle than she wants him to know just yet.