The panel in front of them went dead, and she looked over at him, shocked.

"What's happening?"

His own expression looked just as shocked.

"Everything's dead. It's impossible."

"What do we do?"

"We're going to crash…"

"What?!"

He took the controls and her stomach dropped as she felt the plane start to go down.

"Hang on, Beckett…" he told her, reaching over and inflating her seatbelt before he took the controls again. They were heading for the water at an alarming rate, now, and she clung to her seat as hard as she could, bracing herself for the impact that had to come.

"Castle! Your seatbelt!"

He hadn't secured his own, just hers, but before he could reach down and inflate them, they struck the water and she felt him slam against her at the impact.

"Castle!"

He didn't answer and a quick glance was all she needed to know that he never would. Blood was turning the water that was filling the cabin into a crimson froth and she didn't feel any pain that told her any of it was hers.

She closed her eyes tightly and suddenly they were on a rocky shore, both of them hearty and whole – although they were both soaked and shivering. He had his arm around her, helping her to a log that was covered in a silver blanket and packages of tuna casserole. She started to sit down, grateful for the support, when out of nowhere a man appeared in the shadows at the edge of the forest that surrounded the lake. As both of them stared, he pulled a gun and aimed it at her. She couldn't see his face, or his expression, but she watched as the gun that was pointing at her suddenly turned on Castle, and the sound of the shot echoed through the entire valley.

Castle was slammed backward over the log and fell hard, blood blossoming from a hole in his chest.

"Castle!"

Beckett looked back at the forest, but the man was gone – and the gun with him.

Beckett jerked awake, forcing herself up and out of the nightmare by sheer will. She sat up in the bed, looking over at the sleeping form in the bed beside her own and tried to calm her breathing and heart rate. The nightmare had been so real – just like the one she'd had the night after the crash. But not the same.

She slid out of her bed and walked over to his, needing to make sure with her own eyes that he was really okay. They'd take him off the monitoring devices right after the last of the pizza had been devoured and Martha and Alexis had gone for the night. The nurses said they'd sleep a lot more comfortably without the constant beeping in their ears, but Beckett definitely wanted to hear it just then.

In the faint light coming from a nightlight in the bathroom she couldn't see his chest rising and falling and she couldn't tell if he had a pulse. Unable to help herself, she reached out and took his wrist, searching for the faint throb that would prove her nightmares false.

He caught her hand in his, startling her.

"Beckett?"

She gasped, but didn't let go of his hand.

"Castle…"

His eyes looked dark in the faint light, but she could see the concern in his expression.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded.

"Yeah…"

His hand tightened on hers.

"Another nightmare?"

She swallowed, but her throat was dry.

"Yes. How did you know?"

Castle sat up, using his grip on her hand to pull her closer to him. She stumbled and sat down on the edge of his bed, feeling his arms go around her.

"The look in your eyes," he told her. "I've only seen it once before."

She nodded, dumbly, and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry…" she heard him murmur in her ear. "I'm really sorry."

Beckett frowned, tilting her head up to look at him, confused at the self-loathing she heard in his voice.

"For what?"

"It's all my fault. You're having nightmares and it's my fault…"

She shook her head.

"It wasn't your-"

"It was. It was my dumb idea and my responsibility to get you there safely and all I did was-"

Abruptly, Beckett put her finger against his mouth to make him stop and shook her head again.

"Save my life," she interrupted. "I'd say that counts for something.

She used her hand to pull his head down, pressing a kiss tenderly against his cheek. Another followed, just as he turned his head to look at her, and this time her lips met his. She pulled back at the same time he did, and their eyes met.

"Sorry…" he whispered.

She smiled, leaning forward and pressing another kiss against his ear.

"Stop apologizing, Castle," she told him, turning his head toward her so she could claim another kiss.

He groaned and the kiss deepened, his hand sliding along her leg and hers going to his chest. She pressed forward, and this time the groan that was torn from his throat was filled with pain, although he didn't move away.

She did, though; pulling her hand back and then moving her head back as well. His face was pale from pain and she shook her head.

"I'm sorry."

He chuckled, and moved a little, patting the spot beside him.

"Here."

She hesitated, but decided that the invitation wasn't to finish what they had almost started. She stretched out beside him, and he cuddled against her, his arm going around her and holding her close, but not tightly. Her head rested on the pillow by his and she caught his hand and held it. They were quiet for a while, and then he spoke up, his voice soft and uncertain.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" she asked.

"The nightmares."

"Not really."

He nodded.

"Wanna talk about the kiss?"

She tightened her hold on his hand.

"It wasn't the same nightmare as before…"

"No?"

He didn't mention the change of mind. Probably, she decided, he'd just manipulated her into doing what he wanted. It should have annoyed her but it didn't.

"No."

She turned away from him, her hand still holding his, and pressed back against him, asking him silently to hold her. She needed the support and knew he'd be willing to give it to her without comment. Which he did; being very careful where his hands were as he wrapped her up in his arms.

"It might help to talk it out…" he whispered from the dark.

She nodded, and without looking at him told him about the nightmare she'd had. He didn't say anything while she was speaking, and was quiet for a few minutes afterward, but his hand was idly stroking her fingers so she knew he wasn't asleep.

"I suppose I should be flattered," he finally said.

She frowned.

"Why?"

"It's pretty obvious that you're worried about me, Beckett. I'm not sure why, but it's definitely the recurring theme…"

She turned her head and looked at him, surprised.

"What?"

"Your subconscious mind is worried about me, and it's apparently doing its damndest to get you to worry about me, too."

Beckett started to deny that, but stopped.

"You think?"

He shrugged.

"Why not? The big question, though, is why?"