All the usual disclaimers apply: I don't own Castle, never will, and certainly have no chance of ever profiting from it.
Vested
They were shot at again today. Hours later, she's still rattled by the fact that six white letters on an inch and a half of Kevlar are all that stand between her and the abyss.
When he was just a writer, she could have handled his death. It would have hurt, but it would have been bearable. Her mind races through all the things that he is to her now—and all the things he could be in the future. He's not the same man she met three years ago.
Nikki Heat may be his creation, but Castle is hers.