Disclaimer: Who am I kidding, never gonna be an issue.

What If…?

Chapter 12: Healing From The Inside

When Kate finally awakens, four hours have passed while they've been out cold and it's already turning dark outside, long shadows beginning to stretch and yawn across the bedroom floor.

She can feel Castle's warmth at her back, can hear his steady, even breathing, a slight rise and fall with every breath in and every exhale, and it comforts her in ways she never imagined, having him curled up next to her like this. They've moved apart slightly in sleep, but the fingers of his left hand are still resting on her hip, the tips dipping possessively into the concave curve of her abdomen, as if he's still trying to tell her that he's never letting go.

She turns carefully to face him, sliding her hand onto his stomach, pressing her nose into his shoulder. He feels hot, his t-shirt slightly damp, the warm smell of fabric softener and Richard Castle rising from beneath the covers, and she rubs her cheek over the soft swell of cotton that covers his biceps while he sleeps on, oblivious.

The skin around his right eye has purpled while they've been sleeping, and she worries that he might have a temperature, but resists the urge to touch his forehead in case he wakes for now. Aside from a brief, drugged doze in a damp basement when they were cuffed together, they have never shared a bed for the purposes of actually sleeping, and so she has no idea if being this warm is just a natural state for her partner.

So much still to learn about this beautiful, caring man. So much wasted time to make up for.

She gets out of bed, too wired now to sleep, an overwhelm of emotion swirling around her brain after their earlier talk; all the secrets and confessions shared throwing powerful images onto the silver screen of her mind, making her feel restless and edgy, as if there is a task at hand, a job she had to do, calling her to process the lost years they've compressed into mere hours.

Her dad, she has to call her dad. But first, she'll check in with the boys to see how things are going at the Precinct; feeling guilty for having bailed on them today, leaving them to deal with her mess and the fallout with Gates.

She pulls on a baggy, mohair cardigan - the warm, grey fabric soft against her skin - and then she adds her yoga pants and a pair of leather slippers. She stops by the door to watch Castle sleeping, a few damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead, eyes slightly puffy, his features relaxed and untroubled. He looks as defenseless as she's ever seen him, as if sleep has stolen his animated essence. Her heart aches with guilt over the pain she's caused him and she feels ashamed for once by the selfishness of her past choices and actions.

The copious tears that accompanied her choked confessions, together with the warmth of their shared bed, have dehydrated her, and so she fetches a bottle of water from the fridge and then wanders into the living room to make a call. The time on her cell tells her it's after six, and she switches on a lamp to banish the gloom from the corners of the room.

"Hi, Ryan," she says, tightening her sweater around her when a shiver travels through her body, her skin cooling rapidly without Castle and a heavy down comforter to warm her. "How'd things go this afternoon?"

Ryan gives her a detailed rundown of everything they've missed.

"So, Cristobal's gone for arraignment? No problems? Good. And what about Santos? Did he make it to Rikers yet, before they ship him somewhere up state? Great. Another happy customer for ADA Garcia. What about Gates?" she asks, taking a swig of water, scuffing one slipper-clad foot against the wooden floor in a back and forward rhythm that sounds like 'hush, hush, hush'.

Ryan tells Kate that the Captain has been downtown at a budget meeting all afternoon and hasn't come back yet. So they're all off the hook for now. Then he asks about Castle.

"He…uh…"

Kate hesitates, twisting a curl round her finger and then chewing on the end. They've talked a lot today about so many things, all of them from their past. The subject of what happens next, about their future plans and how to handle their relationship at work and with their families hasn't even come up yet, and she's not sure whether she should speak for both of them at this point.

But Ryan saw her behavior at the club: her frantic concern for Castle when he was injured. He isn't blind, he certainly isn't stupid and he's fiercely loyal, so she takes a risk and confides in her friend.

"He's sleeping right now," she says quietly, looking over her shoulder towards the darkened bedroom. "I'm going to wake him soon, make sure there's no lingering effects from that knock to the head. But he seems okay, other than that."

She gnaws at a hangnail and then pushes on.

"Ryan, you won't say anything?" she asks, covering her eyes with her hand, embarrassed to be asking him this favor. "To Gates, I mean. Only…"

"Beckett, say no more. Your secret's safe with me. Really," he reassures her, and she sinks back against the couch cushions with a cool wash of relief.

"Thanks, Kevin. Appreciate it."

"Don't mention it. Oh, and Kate?"

"Yes?"

"Tell Castle we're happy for you guys."

She curls up in the far corner of her couch while she waits for the next call to connect, a cashmere throw pulled over her legs.

"Hey, dad," she smiles into the phone, trying to lift her game a little, images of her dad's worried face as he implored Castle to help his little girl save herself from harm swirling in front of her eyes and closing her throat.

How desperate must her very private, reserved father have been to turn up unannounced at the door of a complete stranger, one-time playboy novelist no less, to plead for help to save his own daughter's life?

Her father's response to this unsolicited, unscheduled phone call tells her a lot about how their relationship is still damaged too.

"Katie, what's wrong?" he asks, voice immediately gear-shifting towards concern.

"Nothing's wrong, dad. Just thought I'd give you a call," she lies, closing her eyes and squeezing them tightly shut against her own default setting, which still seems jammed on avoid, avoid, avoid.

"Okay," he stretches out, the wheels in his lawyerly brain turning so loudly that she imagines she can hear the click when he selects 'play along with Katie' in his repertoire of fatherly responses.

"Work okay? You backed up with cases these days?" he asks, jumping off onto the safe ground of her job, both of them hiding out in homicide in a way that seems unhealthy, yet unavoidable at this point.

"We took a major drug supplier down this morning," she offers. "Cut a good deal for the dealer who gave him up with this new ADA, guy named Garcia, who just joined the team downtown. Seems more progressive than most. Doesn't think all cops are slack at their jobs and all perps are bullet-proof," she adds, knowing how her dad likes to hear about her brushes with the seedier side of the legal profession.

"And how's that partner of yours?" he asks, as he does on a continual basis. "Still driving you crazy?"

This has become something of a joke topic between them. Her father teases, she pushes back, avoids, giggles sometimes when she shares a story about one of Castle's latest crazy theories, and then they move on to talk about something else; something safer. It's a well-worn part of their script that they never deviate from…until today.

"Rick is…" she smiles, shy and embarrassed all of a sudden, despite the fact that she is alone in her living room and has no one to witness this conversation with her dad.

"Oh, Rick now, is it?" teases her dad, missing nothing as usual, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "Something you want to tell me, Katie?"

"Uh, yes?" she cringes, biting her lip, while she hears her father's laughter down the phone line.

"Finally," he says, sounding relieved, warm and sincere. "I'm so pleased for you. For both of you. He's a good man, Katie. A really good man."

"Thanks, dad," she nods gratefully, as a tear rolls down her cheek. "He is," she agrees.

For the thousandth time today she wonders why she waited so long to acknowledge this to herself, to let him be her good man, when he has tried so hard and for such little return from her.

"He loves you, Katie. I know that much. I think that is one man who would do just about anything for you," interjects her father, mirroring her own thoughts.

"I love him too, dad," she reassures him, knowing exactly what her father means, a discussion they don't need to get into right now.

"I'm so happy for you, Katie. You make a great team."

"Dad, I have to go. Rick is…he got hurt in the operation I was just telling you about. I have to go check on him. Brunch on Sunday?" she asks, by way of compensation for a call cut short.

Because suddenly all she can think is that she needs to go into her bedroom and watch her partner sleep, and then wake him up and remind herself that this is real. She finally did the hardest part and it really wasn't that hard at all. She vows to hold onto that for future reference; that her greatest fears can turn out to be her greatest, most rewarding triumphs, if only she can face up to them, if only she can dive right in.

They part with a plan and a promise to meet on the weekend. Her dad asks her to bring Rick along, and she promises to try. It feels good, admitting this new love to him, accepting his part in how they are bound to one another by history, tragedy, fate, perhaps, and experiences lived through and survived.

Castle is still sound asleep when she reenters the bedroom, and for one crazy second she wants to shake him awake to make sure he's still breathing, a wave of panic at the terrifying potential for loss breaking over her with such dramatic force that she shivers hard.

He stirs when she crawls onto the mattress next to him and it dips a little, rocking him. But then he rolls towards her pressing his face deeper into the pillow, nonsense mumbles emitting from his lips.

"Castle," she whispers, brushing the damp hair off his forehead, pressing her cool fingers to his warm skin to check his temperature.

He is definitely warm, but not dangerously so, and at least that's something.

"Kate?" he murmurs, lips forming into a silly smile as opens his eyes and then stretches his long body out across the bed, arching his spine, arms and legs thrown wide like a starfish for a few seconds, until he shudders and then collapses into a boneless heap.

"We were on the beach," he tells her, in an unguarded post-sleep moment, and he brushes his head back and forth across the pillow looking as if he's in no rush to get up anytime soon.

"The beach, huh?" she smiles, watching him come round, his face still adorably out of focus, almost childlike. "Sounds nice."

"Yeah, you were laughing," he tells her, as if this is something noteworthy for its rarity value, and her stomach churns at the thought that this man values her laughter so much for its scarcity alone.

She makes a mental note to let herself laugh more, to let go any opportunity she gets.

"What time is it?" he asks, becoming more present by the second.

"Half-past six. You should really get up or you won't sleep tonight," she says, watching his eyes begin to map her face, her neck, the exposed sweep of her chest and stomach where her sweater has fallen open to reveal the thin camisole underneath.

"You planning on sleeping tonight, Beckett?" he grins lazily, stretching one long arm up to capture the back of her neck and topple her onto him for a tender apology of a kiss.

"You have a head injury," she whispers, running her teeth along his scruffy jaw, a day and a half without shaving leaving it outlined in shadows, like a rough charcoal sketch.

"I have an exceptionally hard head, detective," he promises, kissing her eyelids and then pressing his nose to her cheek to breathe her in.

"Won't argue with that," she jokes, planting a quick kiss to his damp forehead. "You need a shower, young man. I'll make dinner. Towels are…well, you already know where my towels are," she says, remembering how he rescued for from a watery oblivion of grief not eight hours ago.

"You're making me dinner too?" he grins, catching her hand before she can leave his bedside.

"Mmm. But don't tell anyone. They'll think I'm sweet on you," she replies, touching his cheek, blushing when he stares into her eyes, knowing exactly just how sweet on him she is.

"Kate, are you okay?" he asks, dispensing with humor for a second to get back to the pared to the bone truth.

"I'm good. Don't worry. Go shower. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready," she reassures him.

Kate throws together a quick pasta dish. She cubes a Spanish chorizo sausage, chops an onion, one small red chilli, a clove of garlic - since they'll both be eating this meal and the aroma won't matter - and then she fries the lot off in a pan using only the picante paprika oil released from the chorizo to season the pan.

She can hear Castle singing in the shower - Taylor Swift if she's not mistaken - the words 'ever, ever, ever' bouncing around her bedroom walls when she peaks inside to watch him.

Then she goes back to making their dinner, grinning at her ridiculous, sweet, adorable boyfriend.

A can of chopped plum tomatoes, one of borlotti beans, a handful of raisins, black olives, and one of pine nuts go into the mix, and then she throws some dried penne into a pan of boiling, salted water to cook when she hears Castle opening and closing what she hopes is just 'his' drawer in her bedroom.

"Something smells amazing," he tells her, sneaking up to steal a kiss, while she tears a handful of basil leaves from the small pot on her kitchen window ledge. She gets a fright, and the small pot topples, skittering in a tight circle across the tile until she rights it again.

His hair is still damp, toweled dry and so more messy looking than usual. It falls in dark, jagged spikes across his forehead, utterly distracting her and making her fingers itch to reach up and touch him.

"Yes, you do," flirts Kate, pressing her lips to his neck, before moving to the stove to offer him a wooden spoonful of sauce to taste.

"Mmm, that…now that is some good ol' home cooking," he declares. "Just what the doctor ordered."

"Great. I'm about ready to serve up. Grab me some bowls from the top shelf?" she asks, draining the pasta into the sink.

Kate dishes up their food, grates fresh Parmesan over the top and plants a couple of extra baby basil leaves in the center of each dish.

She set the table while he was showering, and a bottle of red wine sits open and breathing in the center.

"You probably shouldn't be drinking, since you're taking medication. But I thought maybe half a glass after the day we've had…?"

"My head feels fine. Bruise hurts like hell, but I don't think there's any permanent damage," he assures her, pouring each of them a glass.

"So, how long before you woke me did you get up? I didn't hear you leave," he says, a worried look briefly crossing his face as he recalls everything they unloaded on one another right before they slept.

At least he hopes she slept.

"Not long. Maybe half an hour. I called the precinct. Spoke to Ryan. He said Gates has been out all day at a budget meeting."

"Oh, great. That'll put her in a good mood," groans Castle. "What do you think we can expect tomorrow?"

"Transfer went through for Santos. Cristobal was arraigned this afternoon. So we cleared a homicide off the board and we took down a local drug supplier as an added bonus. Her Comp Stats will look good. So I'm hoping she'll have had a pat on the back from the DA's office, another from Narcotics, and we'll be in the clear."

"You really believe that?" asks Castle, forking another mouthful of food while he watches her from across the table.

Kate smiles, covering her mouth with her hand, and then takes a sip of water.

"Yeah, starting to sound like I've been drinking your Kool Aid," she laughs, continuing to eat.

"You should laugh more often, Kate," says Castle, his head slightly tilted to the side as he watches her with an easy smile on his face.

"Don't worry. I intend to," she promises. "I owe you, Castle."

"Owe me how?"

"For…for changing so much about me, about my life…for making it better," she admits, putting her fork down and toying nervously with the stem of her wineglass.

"Wow! That is not what you were saying four years ago when we first met."

"Yeah, well, it was a slow burn. And I might have been an idiot."

"Never. You were cautious, and rightly so. I was the idiot. But we got there in the end, and I like to think that's all that counts."

"I love that you're such a romantic, so optimistic," Kate confesses, in an uncharacteristic moment of openness. "I know I pretend that I don't need all that stuff, but…I think everyone needs a little hope in their lives, to be able to believe there is something better out there. My mom always believed that for sure."

"And then she met your dad," points out Castle, watching her reaction to the dangerous parallel he just drew between the two couples.

Kate eats thoughtfully for a few seconds, looking unperturbed by Castle's pronouncement, probably because she has one of her own to make.

"I called my dad," she tries to casually throw into the conversation, licking her lips and then pouring more wine.

Castle's head shoots up from his pasta.

"When?"

"While you were sleeping. He said to tell you he was pleased for us. I mean, really pleased," she grins, her eyes twinkling in the warm glow from the flickering candles sitting in the middle of the table.

"You told him?" asks Castle, sounding completely surprised.

"I…I'm sorry. Did I overstep? Did you want to keep it a secret?" she frowns. "Because I know you have Alexis to consider and…"

"Kate," he says, reaching for her hand across the table, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "It's fine. In fact, I think it's great that you shared with your dad. I'm just surprised, is all."

"He thinks a lot of you," she continues, determined to stick with full-disclosure from now on.

"I'm glad. Because I think a helluva lot about his daughter."

"He invited you to brunch on Sunday…I mean, only if you're free, of course. I don't…" she hums as she pauses, suddenly hesitant and unsure. "I mean we haven't exactly talked about how any of this is going to…"

Castle chuckles quietly and leans back in his chair, watching Kate spiral a little under the weight or her over-organized, overly serious brain.

"What?" she asks, eyeing him suspiciously, while he grins affectionately at her.

"Just...you."

"What, now you're laughing at me? Already? What about the honeymoon period?"

"No. I'm admiring how you're taking this in your stride, not freaking out, telling your dad, sharing stuff with me. I like it, Kate. You're good for us."

"Mmm," she hums dubiously, not entirely convinced.

"As for the honey moon period…" Castle teases, to her complete mortification.

"Don't. Please? That just kind of popped out."

"For now, I will leave it. Not forever though."

Kate shakes her head silently, still blushing, and then she rises from the table to collect their dishes. Maybe running just a little from this particular discussion.

"Oh, and I asked Ryan to keep things on the down low with Gates," she tosses back over her shoulder by way of a little revenge attack.

"You told Ryan?" squeaks Castle, hurrying after her into the kitchen.

"Yes," confirms Kate, smiling calmly while Castle gets himself in a froth this time.

"Sorry," he says, shaking his head as if trying to clear water from his ears. "You actually told Ryan that you and I are together?" he asks, for want of better expression.

"I didn't have to spell it out to him exactly," says Kate, stepping closer to Castle and wrapping her arms around his middle.

He gratefully drapes his arms around her shoulders, while she rests her head on his chest.

"You mean he knew?" he asks, his voice vibrating through the top of her skull.

"I already told you. Those matching shirts this morning, Castle. Total giveaway. And you should have seen your face in that coffee shop. You just couldn't stop smiling," she scolds, laughing quietly, as she presses her nose into his shoulder, thinking that her soap smells really good on him.

"Oh, so it wasn't the way you were holding my hand in the basement or the back of that ambulance? Couldn't have been that. Oh, no," he teases. "Or the phone call with Esposito this afternoon, when you admitted that I was here with you at your apartment?"

"They are detectives. I told you already, Castle. It's their job," she smirks.

"You are truly terrible at this," he laughs. "But I like it," he admits, kissing her softly. "Think they'll be able to keep a secret?"

"I think they'll try. They understand that our partnership is at stake, so they're not going to blow our cover if they can help it. But, maybe you should talk to Alexis to clue her in anyway."

"Good point. Mind if I call her now? She doesn't know I'm not at home drowning my sorrows with John Woo anymore."

Kate washes their dinner dishes while Castle chats to Alexis in her living room. When he comes back through, he has a pensive look on his face.

"I take it that did not go well? " she asks, drying her hands on a towel.

"She just needs some time," he admits, leaning against the island.

"She's a smart girl, and I hurt you badly. I wouldn't blame her for being a little suspicious."

"She…she's just protective of me."

"Well, I'm just going to have to work extra hard to prove her wrong."

"We'll be fine. Once she sees how we are together… Kate, if your dad can accept me after that fistfight with Josh in the hospital…"

"That's the second time you've mentioned that. What fistfight? I don't know anything about that."

"Bed or couch?" asks Castle, taking the kitchen towel out of her hands and depositing it on the counter.

"You're definitely staying?" asks Kate, looking a mixture of hopeful and relieved.

"If that's okay with the lady detective?" he asks, walking her through to the living room with his hands on her shoulders, pleased to see how eager she is to have him here.

"How about we take this to bed? And then we can talk some more. About that fistfight for starters," says Kate, holding up the bottle of wine.

"I'm liking you more by the hour, Katherine Beckett. All this talking and sharing, wine in bed and cooking me dinner. I think I could quite easily fall in love with you," he says, backing her up against the dining table until she's pinned between its solid form and her partner's warm body.

"I thought you already were," she whispers breathlessly, her warm words puffing over his chin, as she holds back from kissing him until he answers her.

Castle grazes his lips over hers and a jolt of electricity shoots through her core, building a warm flush in her midsection, making her skin tingle and burn and her heart begin to pound.

He sneaks his tongue out to wet her lips, and then he strokes inside when she parts them for him, moaning into his mouth.

"All. Over. Again. Kate," he whispers against her damp, swollen lips, nudging her legs apart with his thigh, before devastating her mouth with his own.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this continued glimpse into what their day after John Woo could have been. Few more to go… Liv