Today's paean to my editress:

There once was a person named Carto
who was so incredibly smarto;
I loved her because
my sweet dove she was,
the editor dear of my heart-o.

Chapter 31: 4x16, Linchpin

If you're stubborn enough to keep going, I'm stupid enough to go with you.

Water. Water everywhere.

Seat belt.

Gun.

Hands. Limp.

She's not moving.

Kate –

He grabs. Kicks. Body moving as if on its own. No choice. No other way.

Murky water.

Light above him.

Limp body in his arms.

God, no, Kate, no, come on. You have to fight.

He crawls back onto the pier, uses everything he's got to pull her slack body into his arms. She's not moving. Her clothes are heavy, soaked through with river water, and her wet hair is plastered to her cold skin and no, Kate, this isn't how it ends, come on, you're going to live, you have to –

He finally manages to get two fingers onto her throat, grits his teeth until he stops shaking long enough to hold them still. He can feel a pulse. It's faint but it's there. He holds a hand over her mouth.

Nothing.

His heart stutters in his ribcage. Her chest isn't rising. She's not breathing.

Kate's not breathing.

His hands are shaking again but he manages to tilt her head back, pinch her nose, lean in, and cover her mouth with his own and breathe into her lungs and Kate this isn't how it's supposed to be you have to be awake I can't do this alone and she's not moving so he pushes another breath into her and come on Kate wake up and he gasps because she has all his air and he's trying to force life into her but she's still not moving and why does it take guns and bullets and death for any of this to happen and come on, Kate, you have to live –

He breathes into her a third time and feels the sudden catch run through her upper body, sees her chest rise with the air. She's breathing. She's breathing.

She gasps, chokes, sputters. He rolls her over onto her side, turning her head so she can spit out water and breathe easier. Her body is wracked with coughs, but she manages to pull in a strangled breath. He rubs her back as she slowly gets air into her lungs.

And suddenly she's throwing herself against him and he's falling backwards and her arms are around his neck and her mouth is on his and it makes no sense and he doesn't know what to do but it's wild and frantic and wrong and it's all hot, desperate mouths and wet lips and rough, aggressive tongues and shaking hands and shit he just wants her so much and he's wanted her for so long and oh God Kate I love you I love you we need to stop almost dying –

She gives this long shuddering sigh, her breath soft on his lips, and she huddles against him, her body limp and wet and chilly and she's just so cold and Kate, we have to stop doing this, I love you –

She presses her face into the crook of his neck. He can feel her breath, cool on his wet skin, her spine curved against him. She's exhausted. She's worn. She's not fighting. She's not fighting anymore.

"Castle?" Her voice is faint.

"Gotta stay awake, Kate." He runs his hand over her wet hair, traces the line of her jaw, lets his thumb graze her bottom lip. She doesn't pull away. She barely seems to register it at all. Kate. You need to wake up.

"Cold."

"I know." He pulls her closer. She has to stay awake. He doesn't know what to do if he's alone.

"You're warm."

"Yeah. I hear that all the time." Castle swallows the irrational desire to let himself cry because this is a giant mess and he can't help but think it's all his fault and he is so sick of coming so damn close to dying so many times before he can just tell her and she remembers.

"Castle." Her eyes flutter shut, and her fingers curl weakly in the filthy wet fabric of his shirt. "Castle, I – I heard you – have to – "

"Shhhhh. Just rest." He rubs her shoulders, trying to keep her warm. "Someone'll find us. We're gonna be fine, okay?"

"But – Castle – have to tell you – "

"Kate. It's okay." His voice is cracking. He can't handle this. Where's the CIA? Where are the guys?

"Kiss." Her voice barely sounds, like she's so exhausted she can't finish the word, and his stomach drops like a stone and his arms tighten around her like he can protect her (but oh God he can't, he can't). "I – kissed you – but you have – to know – "

"I don't have any answers, Kate."

She falls silent, still clutching his shirt like a lifeline, and he holds onto her. Clutches her against his chest as the wind chills his bones, as the black SUVs pull up like ghosts, as lights flood the dock. The CIA agents come pull her out of his arms in spite of his protests, assuring him that they're taking care of her, ignoring his pleading, and they just keep asking him what happened, what happened? – and Sophia watches him with questions in her eyes, and everyone wants him to tell them something.

He still has no answers.