A/N: Well, howdy everyone. So, this is an idea that as been ruminating in my mind for a few weeks now, and I finally have it down and feel confident in putting it out here. Basically, I took some of the spoilers for the last few episodes of this season, so WARNING, if you want to stay spoiler-free, tread with caution.

This takes place right after "Knockout", and for now, I have not followed the spoiler that one of the characters dies. I might tie that in later in the story in my own way, but for now, everyone is alive and well.

Can you tell that I am kind of nervous about posting this? I just hope it goes over well, and I really hope that you all like it. So when you're done with the first chapter, review please? It's always important for me to know what's good and what's bad or if I should just scrap this altogether. I'd appreciate it.

OH: Another thing. This story is subdivided not only in chapters but in parts- pretty much because I think I'm so clever and came up with titles for them that fit well. For example: Part One is called "Sunday Punch." The episodes revolving around Johanna Beckett's murder have all been named after boxing terms, so that's where the titles for the parts come in. "Sunday punch" is essentially just a synonym for knockout punch or a destructive blow. Ingenious, right? So maybe that gives you an inkling that this might get a little dark at times. But don't worry. There will still be plenty of fluff to go around.

Quick disclaimer: I don't own Castle. But Mr. Marlowe, or any Castle staff who may, for some reason unbeknownst to me, see this... I'm available. Feel free to hire me. (I'm just kidding around of course, but wouldn't that be awesome?)

Ahem- also, rated T for language and other risque themes that always come up when dealing with two consenting adults pursuing a relationship.

Okay.. since this has gotten atrociously lengthy, I'm shutting up now. Here's the real story. Enjoy, my dears. Let me know what ya think.

PS: Italics (other than this, obviously) indicate flashbacks. I swear I'm done until the chapter's over.

Part One: Sunday Punch

She never imagined the solving of her mother's case to be this big.

-
Chapter One
-

He came to her door that afternoon armed with an overflowing paper bag from a local market.

"Hi," she offered meekly when she saw him.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he raked his eyes over her slender form. This was a side of Kate Beckett he had not yet seen, and he would have been content with not having to see it.

She was wearing (more like drowning in) a gray hoodie with the NYPD insignia stamped across the breast in navy blue and baggy black athletic shorts which ghosted against the middle of her knee. The hood was up but was doing a poor job of concealing her mussed hair and tear-streaked face. Her eyes were bloodshot, a pale pink from her crying.

She was disillusioned. She was vulnerable.

"Hey," he finally responded with a hint of a smile. "Everything okay?"

She sniffled and brushed a sagging sleeve of the hoodie across her face, wiping stray tears from her cheeks. She let out a ragged, congested breath.

"I'm fine. I'm fine."

He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes in concern.

"You're not fine."

She averted her gaze to her feet, careful not to make eye contact. Careful not to break.

She peered up after a few moments, just barely, and fixed upon the bag that dangled from his hand.

"What did you bring?" she asked, eyes unmoving.

He grabbed the twisted handles with both hands now, opening the bag and reaching for its contents.

"We have…" he began. "The first three seasons of Temptation Lane on DVD."

Her eyes followed his hand as he pulled out three thick rectangular cases of DVDs, replaced them, and then retracted his hand with a mass of fleece in his grasp.

"…The fleeciest, warmest, most comforting blanket in the Castle household…"

He stuffed the blanket back down into the bag, rummaged around a bit, and then removed a violet Tupperware box, handing it to her.

He finally met her eyes as he continued, pulling out a tub of ice cream and also extending it toward her.

"And oatmeal cookies and strawberry ice cream."

He saw the look of surprise on her face and, before she could respond, he clarified, "Lanie. She told me that they're comfort food."

She tore her eyes away from his, nervously drumming her fingers across the top of the tub of ice cream, cradling it and the Tupperware in her arms. He swore he saw a hint of a smile tug her lips.

"Thank you, Castle," she replied, voice still raspy and strained.

He nodded. "Always."

Her heart thudded hard against her chest when he said it. So simple, but so dense in meaning. Always. It was their word, their implicit promise to each other. And she knew that he meant it.

She remained quiet for some time before finally offering, "Do you want to come in?"

"Sure," he almost immediately responded.

She stepped out of the door frame and allowed him to walk past her into the apartment. He whirled around to face her as she closed the door behind them, raising the bag higher and pointing to it.

"Temptation Lane?"

She averted her gaze to the ground again with the slightest smile, causing the oversized hood of the sweatshirt to drape over her eyes in what he thought was the most adorable thing he had ever seen.

She peered up at him through green eyes partially covered by the edge of the hood, and lightly chuckling at herself, nodded.

He offered her the DVDs and trailed her as they made their way from the vestibule to her couch. He sat himself down and sunk into the sofa's plush warmth, pulling out the blanket and wrapping himself in its feathery fleece.

She pressed play on her DVD player and then came to sit beside him, playfully tugging on a corner of the blanket.

"Don't hog it all," she chided.

He sighed heavily and then smirked, offering the entire blanket to her. She surprised him when she shifted closer to him, their outer thighs pressing together, and she threw the velvety spread over both of them.

"I just need to be close to someone right now," she explained, snuggling into the blanket, covering her body up to her chin and burrowing against his broad shoulder.

He just nodded, understandingly, recalling what she had told him when she first revealed to him her guilty pleasure. It makes me feel like home and…safe. He knew that what she needed right now was comfort. She needed to feel safe.

It was her mother's case that was beating her up inside. It had only taken about four months- fifteen visits, if he recalled correctly- for Lockwood to reveal who had hired him to kill John Raglan. Whether he had simply had a change of heart like Ebeneezer Scrooge or had been threatened and roughed up by larger, more powerful inmates, he didn't know. Neither did she. All they knew was that on the day she came to visit him just under one week ago- May 16th, it was- he was willing to talk.

She had begun the visit by interrogating him with the unchanging question, "Who hired you?" Then, she sat leaned back in the chair across from him, waiting. She must have eyed him for at least five minutes before she finally saw something in his dark eyes. A glimpse of remorse. So she had asked him again- waiting, waiting, waiting.

After another ten minutes of a staring contest, he had jerked his head away from her and clenched his jaw, shaking his head.

"You'll never touch 'em," he muttered caustically.

She leaned forward at this and placed her hands on the cold, unfriendly iron table, clamping them together, eyes fixing on his distraught face.

"I've heard that a lot. That doesn't help. Tell me," she murmured.

He whipped his head back to her again, his pale, cold blue eyes meeting hers.

"The Mayor."

Her stomach had dropped, her insides curdling with an ill, sinking feeling.

She shook her head. "You're lying to me."

He simply smirked. "I swear."

Her blood was boiling now. "Swear a little harder."

He had sighed, his face softening and becoming more sincere. "Trust me."

She had scoffed at that, furiously blinking back tears now and chewing her lower lip to keep it from quivering. "Well then why does he keep letting Castle follow me around? Why didn't he order a hit on me after I killed Coonan?"

"He did."

Her body went stiff at this, and she sat up straighter.

"I've worked for the Mayor for awhile… And I was ordered to take a hit on you," he continued with the same maniacal smirk on his face.

She shivered uncomfortably as the greasy criminal went on.

"I tried. I set my sights on you. But then, things quieted down. We kept our eyes on you, but we had bigger fish to fry, you know?"

She cringed, and rage flooded her body as he revealed this- the corruption going on right at the heart of the city.

"McAllister gave us a tip on Raglan- said he was dying or something. Was thinking of righting his wrongs. That was when he knew that something was up. So we got him, and I tried to get you too, but that little Writer Monkey of yours got to me before I could shoot."

She tore her eyes away and stared down at her folded hands, frozen.

"I was your next target."

She was barely able to process it, accept it, make sense of it.

She could only recall bits and pieces of the days that followed. She remembered Captain Montgomery shouting his disbelief, smashing pictures of the Mayor that were framed in his office. She remembered having dinner at her apartment with her father later that week, a security detail guarding the place. She remembered Ryan and Esposito holding her up whenever she faltered as they debated their next moves. She remembered Lanie offering a girl talk session and slumber party if she didn't feel comfortable staying home. And she remembered Castle standing right beside her every step of the way, barely leaving her, other than to be with Martha and Alexis, through every dangerous hour.

They had arrested the mayor of New York City. The same mayor who had been around nineteen years ago, as a deputy mayor, to watch his predecessor help cover up the conspiracy with Raglan's kidnapping ring. The same mayor who took over three years later and became involved in the conspiracy himself. The same mayor who had Johanna Beckett and her colleagues killed. And the same mayor who both Beckett and Castle- hell, the whole damn city- had trusted, who had allowed him to shadow the detective.

And the most sickening part of it all was watching him admit to it. The whole city of New York, the whole state, the whole country, watched as the mayor was taken out of office and into the Metropolitan Correctional Center. The NYPD was, naturally, thrown into the chaos, and at the epicenter of the quake it caused was Kate Beckett.

She was quickly showered with praise from the media, naming her a heroine of the city for "tirelessly working for the greater good of the city." She had been offered countless interviews and PR opportunities in the past days but declined every one of them. She wasn't ready. Instead, she holed up in her apartment, contemplating and sorting everything that had transpired since she visited Lockwood.

She had avoided the precinct as much as possible since the arrest and ensuing media frenzy, avoided going out in public, reading the Times or the Wall Street Journal, or turning on the TV to see coverage on the local news. She needed to process everything first. Why had the Mayor not revoked Castle's all-access pass? Who was she now that her driving force to be a detective had been solved? What did that make her?

So when Castle showed up at her door that afternoon, she couldn't have been more grateful. She needed comfort. She needed him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Kate had fallen asleep midway through the third episode.

She was so fatigued and so wounded. It gave him peace of mind to know that she was able to fall asleep. Her eyes had begun to flutter shut early into their soap opera marathon, though she fought to stay awake. Finally, she had dozed off into a serene slumber, falling limp against his shoulder.

He chuckled as she emitted the smallest snore, jaw hanging wide open. She was so damn cute.

He would have moved to grab the remote to stop the DVD, but he couldn't bear to wake her. So he remained still, relaxed further into the couch, and closed his eyes, drifting into his own fitful sleep.

He was disturbed when he felt movement against his right arm. Not just small nudges, but violent jerks and twists. His eyes shot open when he heard whimpers, and he adjusted himself the slightest bit to see Kate Beckett still asleep on his shoulder.

However, she wasn't nearly as peaceful as she had been before. She was the source of the harsh pushing against his side, and when he caught a glimpse of her furrowed brow, he could see the rapid movement of her eyes beneath her lids. She was having a nightmare.

She let out another whimper and thrashed against him again, and he finally reached around her shoulders and clung to her, shaking her gently.

"Kate," he leaned down and whispered into her ear. "Kate, wake up."

She suddenly went still, aside from her breathing, which came out jagged and quickly.

She continued panting, and her eyes shot open as she jerked forward. The blanket fell to the carpet, and her hand reflexively flew to his knee, clutching it tightly.

Her breathing slowed considerably as he calmingly rubbed up and down her back, and she finally turned to stare down at her hand on his leg.

"Kate," he mumbled, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along her shoulderblades. "Are you okay?"

She peered up at him through tortured eyes, a tempest of emotion brewing in them.

"You're alive," she barely choked out, eyes welling with tears.

He grimaced, and his eyes became more serious and concerned.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'm here. I'm okay."

He gently placed his other hand on top of hers, still resting on his knee, and continued to rub her back in soft, soothing, massaging motions.

"Kate, are you okay?"

She suddenly broke away from his touch, repositioning herself so that she sat cross-legged on the couch, facing toward him.

She placed slightly trembling hands in her lap and stared down at them, her hood once again brushing over her eyes.

He remained silent, his head craned toward her, patiently waiting for her to talk.

The silence lingered a few moments longer until she sniffled and let out a sigh.

"The night I shot Coonan," she began. "I had…a nightmare."

He leaned forward at this, resting his on his knees, and listened.

"And…" she trailed off, peering off into the distance, pursing her lips and shaking her head, as if she was afraid that she would appear weak or stupid for letting a figment of her imagination scare her. "In that nightmare, you were the one lying on the ground. You were the one who was shot."

He knit his brow and covered one of her hands with his, gently stroking it with his thumb.

"It only happened that one night," she continued. "And then it came back the day Raglan was shot."

She met his eyes now.

"And then again when we caught Lockwood…and then, last week…"

He squeezed her hand comfortingly as her lip began to quiver.

"Some nights it'll come back," she murmured, her voice straining against an onslaught of tears, cracking as she went on. "Sometimes it doesn't. And it's so scary because I never know when I'm going to see that image of you lying on the ground and me standing there knowing that I can't save you."

Her body was shaking now; the lump in her throat became painful and constricting. She gasped out a breath and began sobbing, tears overflowing and leaving tracks down her cheeks.

He instinctively tugged the hand he held and brought her closer. She collapsed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

His fingers brushed her back, and sobs wracked her body.

"Shh," he cooed. "I'm here. I'm okay. We're safe."

She fought for breath, inhaling sharply and coughing, gripping the back of his shirt.

"Why did he let you stay, Castle?" she croaked, barely audible as his shoulder muffled her voice.

He rocked her back and forth in his arms, one hand crawling up to the back of her head underneath the hoodie, letting it slide off her head. He stroked her hair and pulled her closer to him, resting his cheek against her. He mumbled, "I don't know, Kate."

She stayed in his arms for some time before finally pulling back, eyes glistening with tears and cheeks tinted red. She hunched on her knees and placed her hands against his chest, one hand reaching toward the wet blotch along his collarbone. "God, I'm a wreck. I'm sorry- look at you. I got you all…wet."

He noticed a coy grin playing on her lips.

"That came out dirtier than you intended, didn't it?" he smirked.

She huffed out a tiny laugh and slapped his chest playfully.

"No," she defended. "I was just expecting you to make a comment."

The smile on his face faded, and he reached out to wipe away a tear that escaped her eye.

"Don't be sorry."

She offered him a thin smile in return and swung her legs around so that she was sitting beside him, thighs just barely touching, much like they had been before.

She smeared the sleeves of her sweatshirt across her face, wanting to erase every tear and every amount of evidence of her crying. She blew out a puff of air, tending to her matted bangs and static strands on the top of her head.

Missing the contact between their fingertips, he reached for her hand again, intertwining them together and resting them on his knee. She cautiously met his gaze.

"You know I mean it when I say that I'll always be there for you."

His tone was solemn and genuine, and he stared at her intensely as he spoke.

She swore that he could hear her heartbeat as it pulsated through her veins, causing her breath to catch and her eardrums to throb with noise. They were treading on dangerous ground, and they both were aware of it. She had broken up with Josh almost a month ago, and lately, the writer and his muse had been especially flirtatious in their banter. And with all the events that had occurred lately, from Royce's murder to her mother's case, he had been especially comforting.

With Josh out of the way, it slowly became more and more clear to her, until the words "I want you so badly" almost seemed to be plastered across his forehead.

He had done so much for her: gifts, going to movies, chasing her to LA and back, becoming visibly jealous as his young protégé came to town and charmed her, saved her life too many times to count…

And he would have done anything to make her happy. Which was exactly why he was here right now, holding her hand, comforting her like he had been all along.

So she dove in. There was no doubt in her mind anymore that Richard Castle was falling in love with her, and she couldn't deny anymore something that had been brewing inside of her for so long now.

She wanted him.

Continue? Scrap? Love? Hate? Indifferent?

Review. I heart feedback.