Weeks later she wakes up in Detective Anthony Mahlon's bed, again. She finds his arm draped around her. She rolls over, hoping to sneak out before he wakes up. She seems to be making a habit of waking up in his bed. She refuses to admit to him that it's more than the job that's getting to her. She refuses to share much of anything with him, other than his bed. In fact they have never even been to her place.

She looks over him, feeling a momentary pang of guilt for leaving him the same way every single morning, never even sticking around for a cup of coffee. His bright green eyes stare back at her. The fact that he's awake startles her. She feels a sense of panic wash over her.

"I should probably get going," she tells him, hoping for an easy out.

"Do you have to work this morning? It's Saturday, you know."

"Um... not unless I get called in."

"So then you don't have to rush off."

"I have a lot to do. Tony I thought that we agreed that neither of us were looking for a relationship. I'm not looking to spend the day together. I am not looking for a boyfriend."

"So I can't even make you a cup of coffee? I mean you like coffee, right?"

"That isn't necessary."

"I could make you breakfast. I make incredible omelets."

"I am not hungry," she fibs.

"Okay."

"When was the last time you got to hang out with your buddies? I mean how long has it been since you went to the bar?"

"Weeks. I can hang out with them anytime. Right now I want to hang out with you."

"I don't know why."

"Because you're the kind of girl I want to marry," he says out of nowhere.

She feels her heart skip a beat, "Excuse me?!"

"You're the type of girl I could take home to meet my parents," he explains.

"I am the type of girl that you picked up at a bar. I went home with you the first night that we spent any time together off the clock. How does that make me the type of girl that you can take home to your parents?"

"I never thought I was going to actually succeed in getting you into bed."

"But you did."

"It was obvious to me that you were going through something..."

She cuts him off, "And you're telling me that you took advantage of that?"

"That isn't what I'm saying. I have worked with you on a few cases. You are a great cop, and good looking too. I didn't think that you would ever give me the time of day."

"From what I have heard you have had plenty of conquests."

"Is that what you really think of me? You think that you were just a notch in my bed post? Kate that was never my intention. I wanted more than that."

"And I told you I didn't want a relationship."

"I hoped that you would change your mind."

"What did you think was going to happen?"

"That one morning you would wake up next to me, and your first instinct wouldn't be to run. I guess that I thought, somehow, I could convince you to stay."

"Telling me that I'm the kind of girl you want to marry wasn't the way to do it."

She slides out from under his arm, and exits the bed. She heads for the bedroom door.

It's been three days since the accident. She still can't remember what's happened. She enters her apartment, and her father follows her in. She places her keys on the kitchen counter, and flips on the light.

"You want me to stay?"

"No. I am tired. I just want to get to bed."

"Okay," he agrees.

"I want to go back to work on Monday, so I should get some rest."

"Are you sure that is a good idea? Kate you're pretty banged up. You have lacerations, and stitches. You have a concussion, and a fractured rib. I don't think that you're ready to go back to work yet."

"I can't sit in this apartment all day, every day. I am fine. Please, just go."

"If you need anything, you'll call?"

"Of course."

He kisses her forehead, and leaves the apartment. She locks the door behind him. She makes her way into towards the stairs. As she slowly, and carefully makes her way up the stairs, she looks at the walls. She can't help but feel as if something is missing. She ignores the feeling at the pit of her stomach.

She takes a shower, and heads to her bed. She sits on the edge of the bed with her lamp on. She looks at her watch. It lies on the nightstand. She stares at the unmoving hands. She reaches into the drawer of her nightstand, and pulls out a screw driver. She removes the back. She stares at the picture adhered to the inside. Everything comes flooding back to her at once. It's almost more than she can take.

She buries her head in her hands, and the tears fall freely. After what seems like an hour she finally composes herself enough to leave her bed. She studies the room carefully. There are no pictures of anyone on the wall. She searches the drawers. There isn't a single article of clothing that belongs to anyone, but her. There is no trace of anyone, but her. It is as if the previous months never happened. It's as if it was all a dream. She manages to make it to the end of her bed as her mind travels to the smell of gasoline, and image of a burning car.

When she wakes up on the couch the next morning the apartment is still eerily quiet. She finds Castle sitting on the arm of the couch, near her head just looking at her.

"Why is it so quiet?"

"We're the only two people here."

"Oh."

"Which as we both know is a rarity. My question to you is how would you like to spend this rare, and most likely short lived moment together?"

She shifts into a sitting position. She tosses the blanket that is covering her onto the back of the couch. She searches his dark blue eyes.

"We need to talk."

"Okay," he agrees.

"Most of the things that I am going to say, are going to be things that you don't like."

"That's okay."

"And some of them you probably won't understand."

"So, make me understand."

"I don't know if I can."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't understand them myself."

"That's okay," he tells her, reassuringly.