…So apparently I lied. This is no longer a oneshot. Thank you so much to everyone for the generous reviews; many of you asked for another chapter, and specifically from Kate's POV. So here goes.

Falldown

When I think of you,
I don't feel so alone.

Owl City, "Vanilla Twilight"

He kisses her and oh, God, he's kissing her. He's too gentle. It feels entirely too much like the way a first kiss is supposed to feel. She thinks that this picture would look perfect on the front of a wedding album.

They break apart and Kate looks up to see him looking at her like – like – she doesn't know for certain because it's been so long since she's seen Casablanca but even though they've never had Paris (yet?), she's pretty sure that's what the other Ric looked like outside the train.

Before she can stop herself, she goes for it. He's reaching for her even before she gets to him. They come together so easily it doesn't feel like the first time.

(Of course not. It's the second.)

He bites gently at her bottom lip and she can't help the soft moan than escapes her. Oh fuck. So good. He pulls her tighter against him and she's reaching for him, one hand going to his hair, and his tongue is filling her mouth so she can't breathe but she doesn't miss it.

The guard turns away. Adrenaline flares through her veins as she takes him down with a single blow.

That was amazing.

She freezes, and as she turns to look at him, she can't help but agree with him.

Castle's in the back of the ambulance, wincing at the too-tight binding on his right hand, and she smiles softly as she goes to help him. She wraps the bandage gently around his palm, surprised at how steady her hands are. Even with all her years of training and experience, tonight has pushed her too far. She managed to compartmentalize, something she's always been good at, but the second Lockwood was in the patrol car, her hands started shaking so hard she had to clench her fists to hide them.

His hand under hers is so gentle, so warm, so perfect, so – she makes herself let go. If she doesn't let go, she might do something stupid. Because her mind is still on overload, spitting out sparks and backfiring.

Thanks for having my back in there.

Always.

She tells the arresting officer that Castle acted purely to protect her. His assault on Lockwood was completely justified. The officer nods; everyone knows what's just happened, and there's no way Castle's going to get in any trouble.

But as Kate walks back to her car, she remembers the look on his face as he brutally beat the man who was about to kill her. It shook her. Thinking about it still makes her a little cold. She knows Castle is not a brutal man. But she also knows that if Lockwood had taken his shot, if he had gotten her, Castle would have killed that man with his bare hands. She knows it without doubt. And that scares her. Even though she knows he may not have realized it himself, Castle would not have hesitated to kill that man.

She wonders when he became this way. Why he can so easily slip now from easy-going man to dark, fearless protector when she's in danger.

And she refuses to admit that she knows the answer to that question.

She trots back to the station, and is busily filling out after-action reports and giving her statement for the second time when Montgomery walks into the interview room and tells her to finish up in the next five minutes and go home. She tries to protest – may as well get everything done now, she thinks – but he gives her the silent eyebrow look, and she knows better than to argue.

Montgomery follows her to her desk and watches as she pulls on her coat with hands still a little shaky. He's eyeing her suspiciously. He saw Lockwood's face and heard her statement. He's not stupid. He knows there was a reason Castle had to get his hand bandaged. He knows what it means.

He's probably known a longer than she has, actually.

As she fits her key in the lock, in a moment of silent, blinding self-honesty, Kate realizes that she wishes she weren't with Josh right now.

She bites her lip, trying not to think about the fact that if she weren't with Josh right now, she wouldn't have to be walking into an empty apartment looking for someone who's thousands of miles and an ocean away. And knows absolutely nothing about the night so long ago that shattered her world. All he knows is that her mother is dead. He seemed to assume that it was something like cancer. She has never corrected him.

Kate has the highest respect for Doctors Without Borders. She really does. But right now the borders all seem to be around her.

And she hates herself for thinking of it this way, but she can't help but think maybe she and Castle need to stop playing phone tag with other people's hearts.

Her head feels too full and her throat is tight. Richard Castle lets himself get close to death. He sets aside any notion of his own safety and runs headlong into danger when he thinks it will help her.

But he has a family. A mother who loves him. A daughter who needs him.

And a partner.

Kate sits down on her couch, sets aside her jacket, pulls off her boots, and bursts into tears.

Because he is stupid. And he is fearless. And he should have walked away. He should have gone home when she told him. He should have – should have just –

- if he'd done what he should have done, she'd probably be dead right now.

Thank you, Alexander.

After her cry, Kate feels cleaner, drained, and quieter. Her eyes are tight and crinkly and salty, but she takes in a long, shaky breath and lets it out without breaking down again, and she knows it's okay.

She takes a long bath, turning on music and sinking into the hot water with a long sigh and no intention of getting out until her whole body is red and wrinkly and completely, totally clean.

Finally climbing out of the tub, Kate wraps herself in a robe, drains her tub, brushes her teeth and goes for her pajamas. She's calmer. The adrenaline rush has worn away, leaving her empty. Her whole body is tired. Montgomery sent her home sometime after midnight. It's after three now. Her body has no idea how to feel other than limp. So she slumps into bed and falls asleep within minutes.

The first time she wakes up, she finds pale sunlight streaming through her windows and her phone ringing. She blinks a little dazedly before picking up.

Beckett.

Detective? Hi. It's Alexis.

Is something wrong? Is your dad alright? Her heart beats a little faster.

He's fine. He was asleep when I left. Alexis sounds a little worried. Are you okay?

What? Me? I'm fine, why?

Dad seemed really freaked out. He said you almost got shot.

No, I'm fine, Alexis. It went okay. Beckett runs a hand over her eyes and smiles. A watery smile. Your dad saved my life.

After talking to Alexis, Kate falls back into a restless sleep.

This time she dreams. She dreams they're back in the alley, the cold whipping at her ears as she huddles close to him. His arms are too warm and strong around her, and it scares her that she could get used to this.

She reaches for her gun, but he grabs her, and his hand on her face tells her everything she needs to know. He's looking at her lips. And his hands on her – so rough, so possessive – it's strangely alluring. She takes a shaky breath. And then he's gentle, pulling her forward, inevitable, and all she can think is finally, and her eyes close.

She hears the bang.

Her vision fills with red. She feels him jerk again her like a puppet on strings. Then his whole body falls against hers. He's too heavy. She stumbles and hits the ground, and he falls onto her.

He's not moving.

She pushes him off of her with icy hands. Her coat and sweater are soaked through with his warmth, deep crimson across her chest, the wool heavy and sticky. It presses against her ribcage, constricting her lungs so tight she can't breathe. She feels over his chest with hands light and quick and desperate, trying so hard to pull him back, hold on.

He doesn't move, doesn't respond, just stares past her with vivid blue eyes frozen in surprise and filmed over with death. Blood trickles from his lips. His skin is cold. He's not breathing.

Oh God, no, Castle, please, no, please – she chokes – Castle, please, I lo-

She wakes gasping for breath, tears in her eyes, her whole body tense and shaking.

She almost calls him, just to hear his voice. Even though she knows he's fine, she needs to hear him just to be sure. But her hands are still shaking so hard she can't dial easily. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

And then her phone buzzes with an incoming message. You OK? Anything you need? I'm on my way out of the station right now.

She can't help but laugh a little, letting her body loosen. He tackled a cold-blooded killer unarmed, and he's asking if she's okay. She takes another long breath and sends a response. I'm fine. Thanks. She feels a little bad, but she doesn't know what else to say. A text message is entirely too short to capture what it was like to feel his hands in her hair and his tongue in her mouth, then watch him risk his own life to save hers. Her whole mind is too small for it.

But she can't let it go, and she wants to make sure he's okay, and she finally decides that Africa is too far away for one more round of phone tag to be wrong. You want to get some dinner tonight?

His reponse comes back so quickly that she half wonders if he knew she was going to ask.

I'd love to. Tell me when.

She sets her phone down, lies back against her pillows, and lets out a long sigh. She smiles but there's not a lot of mirth in it.

Tag, Castle. I'm still 'It.'

Author's Note: It ended up a little different tone than I intended, but all in all I'm happy with it.