A/N: Thank you all for the great feedback. Yes, I'm gonna torture our beloved Kate a few more times and for that I'm only a little sorry. She's on the upswing now though, so hold tight. I promise it will be worth it.

As always, I welcome any and all feedback.

Chapter 6

"Today's going to be a great day." Kyla's enthusiasm did indeed buoy the mood of the room. But not necessarily for Kate. She leaned her head back against the stack of pillows behind her, resigning to the plan of the day and trying to hide her annoyance.

There are already too many people in the room. All for me. All for this momentous occasion. An audience for the examination of my pride. Today…today would start with sitting upright for the first time since I nearly died. Eight days ago, I was able to run miles, calm down my breath enough to shoot live targets, and stare down murderers across the interrogation table, all in the same day. Seven days ago, I was considered the top homicide detective on the entire island of Manhattan, delivering a eulogy for our beloved captain. Oh, how hard the mighty fall. Today. Today, the highlight of my day is to sit up on my own. Maybe stand if I'm feeling up to it. And what Kyla is calling "spa day", a full bath and clean up as best as they can. The nurses hint that I can back out of pushing myself so hard. But they don't know me. This vulnerability and weakness is killing me slowly. Everything hurts, pain in deep places that aren't completely physical. Breathing, shifting, trying to laugh, trying to talk, seeing my family with such worried looks. It all hurts. I want to get out of here.

I haven't been pushing my own pain meds. The PCA was supposed to give more freedom, deeming that being awake for twenty lucid minutes at a time qualified me to decide when the pain was too much. It hasn't been too much, just enough actually. The pain catches me off guard, something that is antithetical to my training as a cop, so I learn to anticipate it. It burns and stabs and I push it until I feel dizzy. Then I shift around it. If I'm going to get out of here, I need to figure out how to work around it. I need to feel alive.

"I think it would be best if she had someone supporting her from behind. Dr. Davidi … Josh, or her dad maybe?" A new voice, the physical therapist now part of the team, suggested. "Katherine, are you almost ready?" His questions had pulled her out of her annoyance.

"Kate." She pushed out, her voice hoarse and scratchy. With her throat healing slowly from the intubation, she had been able to push out a few words at a time. Hello, yes and no, thank you, her nickname when someone only quickly flicks through her medical file.

"Kate?"

"She prefers it shorter. Kate instead of Katherine." Her dad's voice floated from next to her, his hand on her shoulder. She nodded, making quick eye contact to her dad as he stepped up into the support role instead of Josh. She still wasn't sure about what to do with Josh right now.

"Kate. Okay," the therapist nodded objectively before continuing, "Here's how we are going to work this." The physical therapist seemed nice enough. He had a trusting face, and Kate trusted people who remained unperturbed in the face of annoyance. She listened intently as he explained how they would slowly raise the hospital bed- as slow as she could handle, then have her work on maintaining the posture on her own, then push herself up from laying and hold herself up. Jim - her support person - would be on her right side for anything she wanted to grab onto, Josh - secondary - would be there for morale support, maybe to switch out if necessary. He and the nurses would jump in to support and assist as needed. She would have to deal with the amount of people, at least until she could show she didn't need them. The best outcome today would be that she could sit up completely on her own, but there was a stern reminder to be realistic and take it slow. Hiding a silent chuckle, Kate knew she would push past that goal. Slow wasn't a speed she knew, even injured.

Throughout the process, she thought she processed and hid her pain well, but her dad's firm squeezes into her shoulder reminded her otherwise. The physical therapist responded to her with a clearly practiced calm which rubbed her resolve raw. Pushing herself involved soft grunts through gritted teeth and Josh's insistent reminders to breath. Every time she wanted to pause, what air she could squeeze into her lungs fought with the fluid filling the spaces. An hour later she allowed her body to fall back to the uncomfortable bed, nearly passing out from the unlucky combination of barely controlled pain and the inability to squeeze a full breath through the wheezing. The therapist was both impressed and a bit horrified at how far she had pushed herself, leaving with an accelerated plan. Was it bad that she felt proud of his reaction?

"Okay honey. I'm gonna let you sleep this off." Her dad was the only one left in the aftermath of the commotion, recognizing her pride and tenacity but also hoping to gently reprimand her for pushing herself too far. He had sent Josh out to get coffees and fetch her a celebratory lemonade - as she wasn't allowed caffeine just yet.

"No dad. Don't." Between the pain and the heaviness of the fluid in her lungs her voice was giving up sooner than she wanted it to. She had been damn near yelling out in pain just a few minutes ago.

"Why?" He was stern but caring, a look she was used to after all of these years, "I can tell that you are in a lot of pain. You don't need to be."

"No. I want it." A forced whisper was all she had left of her voice.

"Why Kate?"

She hoped her eyes could convey her thoughts, and that he was wise enough to still be able to read them. She needed the pain to teach her to live.

"Katie, " he shook his head tenderly, "You don't deserve this. Any of this. I know you are working as hard as you can to get back to 100%. But in order to do that, you need to rest also." He paused, pushing the PCA for her as he talked, "And rest means pain meds." The hand on her shoulder was warm, an anchor through her soreness. "I know you don't want it. But rest now, so that maybe later today you can stand….then…. then you can walk out of here. Okay?"

He was right. She did want to get out of here. Risking as deep of a sigh as she could manage through the constricted ribs, she simply nodded, allowing the icy coldness to wash over her.

There is an upside to the morphine fog I guess. It gives me time to think. Muddle through this mess I've made.

I like Josh. He's driven, deliciously handsome, and honestly incredible in bed. When we make it to the bed. We often don't, exploring exciting acrobatic endeavors that I never knew I physically could find pleasure with. He understands my body, and I sleep soundly in his arms. He makes me feel beautiful, carefree, and full of fun. And God knows I need fun in my life. Montgomery's words -"You weren't having any fun before he came around"- bound into my thoughts to remind me of that.

But am I really letting him in? He doesn't know about the murder board. I haven't actually told him I love him. We've had our little fights and disagreements like every couple, but he always seems to run away after them. Run away to work, or to a country that needs him. I guess I run too. Anytime my phone rings, I run to a murder. A hot lead. I guess we both run away. I had actually planned on breaking up with him before the radiation scare and bomb/freezer incident. But then he came swooping back at the perfect time, waving his dazzling smile, holding me with those hands that felt so warm. It was just the delay of the inevitable though, and the nightmares returned the next week, after he left for Haiti.

I treasure my independence. It reminds me of my strength. It's a cocoon I can adopt on my own terms. When the nightmares chase me to the late night infomercials, my independence doesn't nag me to come to bed. It doesn't tell me to get out of the cold bathtub now that the wine bottle is empty. My independence isn't disappointed when a case takes me away from date night. My independence is the best date.

But now? Now I've surrendered some of that independence to my bullet wounds….. where does that leave me?

Josh did save my life, but he isn't always there for me.

Castle though. He is somehow always there for me, even if I don't want it. I should have seen it so long ago. Lanie was right. A few weeks ago, we had our monthly wine and brain drain, switching it up for my living room floor instead of a club so that we could actually talk instead of just dance. After polishing the first bottle, I stupidly told her about the butterfly garden gnawing at my insides. The little pulses that happened when the papers revealed Castle's single-ness. I didn't regret it when I fawned over the charm of the quasi-dates we've had. The one at the club with the faux fur and too tight dress where Martha actually thought I had finally succumbed to a date with him. Or the comfort food truck. Movie nights at the Angelika.

I nearly let him sweep me off my feet in Los Angeles. Nearly surrendered to my own unspoken feelings. Nearly allowed the caged butterfly slamming itself against my ribcage to lead the way. But he didn't reciprocate. He's always around, always worried about me, always making me laugh, providing silver linings, always getting me into trouble. I can't trust him to follow my directions, but somehow he can always talk his way out of it. Why doesn't he just say it? No one is convinced that it is about research anymore. Everyone knows, including me, so why doesn't he just do his thing with words and say it out loud? I need someone who can say it.

I want him to. Ever since that undercover kiss in that alley, Royce's letter, the freezer, and the bomb. He mentions just how lucky he knows he is, then doesn't finish it. He didn't ask me out when I was most anticipating it. I wanted him while I was hugging Josh.

What kind of girlfriend does that make me?

The one and only time I have heard him, succinctly, put into words how he felt was at the funeral. And considering that I also believe I saw black elephants with tutus makes me wonder just how reliable my memory is for that moment. His words echo in my head, but were they even real?

Rick had finally worked up the courage to go back. Giving much the same lecture she had given him when Beckett chased down Raglan, Martha simply asked him to be honest about his feelings. And his feelings were driving recklessly fast with broken brakes straight at a brick wall.

The group text had mixed good news with bad. Kate had quickly accelerated from sitting this morning to standing assisted by the afternoon. But the intense rattle of her shallow breathing turned out to be pneumonia. Four steps forward, two steps back. Her movement progress had "promoted" her out of the worst of the ICU, relocating just a few rooms away from the door at the end of the ward. She needed to kick the pneumonia and be able to walk to get completely out.

Rick paused in the hallway as the ward doors suctioned shut behind him. The last time he had stopped by she had crashed. This time would be different, right? The last thing he had said to her was that he loved her. He needed to follow it up with more. So that she understood. Whether she could fully talk or not, he needed her to know that he meant it. The gravity of it all pulled him towards nervousness.

Rounding up to her room, he carefully opened the sliding door. The curtains were closed around the bed but he could hear the reassuring beeps of her heart monitor. Good, still alive. He closed his eyes to recapture the picture of her self-assured beauty before hell tried to take her. He opened them again to Lanie, staring at him questioningly, just a few steps in front of him.

"Oh! Hi Castle." Her greeting was tinged with an exhaustion he could also read in her posture.

"Hi", he stuttered, choking back some emotion, "On your way out?" Was he finally lucky enough to spend some alone time with the woman he loved?

"Yeah. She needs some rest. It was a very busy day."

"How… how is she?"

"Well…If she's awake, she'll be glad you came." Lanie pulled back the edge of the curtain just enough to peek a glance. Kate was curled up on her right side, knees as close to her chest as she could manage. Her body looked so broken. In a state of semi-consciousness, her brow creased over narrowed eyes, she showed clear signs of pain. Strapped over a loose but still very wet braid, the nebulizer face mask delivered a light fog through a hiss, her newest accessory the pneumonia diagnosis had earned her. Rick choked back his emotions. He could have scooped up her fragile form and carried her out of there without much effort.

Lanie continued her recap as Rick moved toward Kate's bed, "She even had a modified 'spa day'. Got all cleaned up, hair washed, fresh clothes."

"Oh Kate, that's awesome!" He had made it to her side, reaching for her hands that were clasped tightly into white knuckled fists around the bed rail.

Lanie continued talking, But Rick wasn't listening. His focus had tunneled. He leaned in so close to Kate that he could smell the faint hint of cherries. So close he could have kissed her. His lips fluttered near her ear, teasing her skin delicately, whispering, "Hi Kate. It's me….Rick." Her eyes opened to his rough stubble.

He came. Rick Castle came back. This time, it wasn't only his face that was looming into my perception, but his touch too. Were those his lips next to my ear? His hand was gently rubbing my shoulder, and although it wasn't what hurt, it was melting the points further along that did. His voice, the one that had been banging around my head stating the 'I love you', was saying more now, but I couldn't quite make any of it out. Whirlpool of the pain meds were pulling me down, and I'm not a strong enough swimmer to fight back. I want to stay awake. I need to talk to Castle.

I want him to hold me. I know he can make this all better. I need him to do something rash right now, like pull all the cords out of the bomb at once. I'm speaking the words in my head: 'I'm here. I heard you.' but I'm afraid nothing is coming out. I push for a return hello, but the croak that is my voice, starting strong this morning, is now gone, having lost to the pain, struggle and pneumonia. I settle for a smile instead, but this stupid mask blocks him from seeing it. Whatever is in this nebulizer is unpleasantly scratching its way down my throat. It itches like crazy, but I can't reach it. It adds layers to the already horrific morphine whirlpool. And there's the nausea, a ferocious tug that reminds me I have only consumed liquids today. The bile is battling with the fluid in my lungs, clogging their way up my throat, making it feel ever more narrow. I just want this all to stop. I can't breathe. I can't breathe and I can't fight and I can't swim, and all I want to do is have him hold me. Through the maelstrom, I try to reach for Rick's hand. Finding a hold, I try for actual words this time, but I can't stay above the waves. I can't keep from drowning.

Rick noticed Kate's eyes moving quickly from soft recognition, through pain, and ending at desperate pleading.

"Kate. Stay with me…." His voice ascended a few octaves as the panic he had suppressed repeated itself. His own questions were answered by a sickening squelch, an odd mash up of an extremely wet cough and vomiting. Now Rick was the one carrying a face of confusion, then horrific recognition that something was wrong when Kate's hand - the one that wasn't death-gripping his own- clawed fearfully at her face mask. Under the red, yellow, and white painted collage of the face mask, he could see her throat take on a purplish red hue as it swelled quickly. Surrendering to another sickening squelch, Kate's eyes rolled upwards, as nurses pushed him and Lanie hurriedly out of the room.

Back to square one. He was starting to hate this dance, standing outside her hospital room while her stats dropped, while her life hung in the balance.

Dr. Josh Davidson had an intense rush to his step, not quite a run but the best he could do, as he pushed through the ICU doors. He hissed, "What the hell happened?", at the pair concealing panic in the hallway. Neither answered.

"Every time…every time you fucking stop by she regresses." Even though he was a touch shorter, Josh had Castle backed up against the nearest wall, spitting fury with every word.

Yet again, Kyla swooped in to save the day, stepping out of Kate's room just as Josh's hand poised to slap Rick's face. Her soft voice held an intensity as she addressed his back, "Dr. Davidson. He didn't do anything." She paused to allow her words to take effect. Josh lowered his hand and only slightly turned to her, his face still seething. "It appears she's allergic to the corticosteroid in the nebulizer. It happens. She had an intense allergic reaction, expelling her stomach contents and quite a bit of phlegm along with it. Good news, it helped clear her lungs a little bit. Bad news." She paused again, watching Josh's face lose only a bit of its edge as Lanie and Castle breathed only a small modicum of relief.

"Bad news is that we are limiting her for the rest of the day. She is pushing herself too far. We are going to pull the PCA, and sedate her for the evening. She needs to sleep this off. No more visitors…. for today." She was firm with this, her face indicating that the directive also included Dr. Josh Davidson.