A/N: I'm so sorry it took me so long to post this update, life kind of got in the way. I made sure this chapter was extra long though, and hopefully that makes up for the long wait. Also, this one wasn't looked over by a beta so I apologize for any mistakes or typos. I hope you enjoy! Another special thanks to Jo who inspired this fic. - Zoe

She breaks things off with Josh two days later when she's recovered enough to manage staying awake a few hours at a time. He isn't happy, but he doesn't look surprised at all. She suspects that might have something to do with her confessing her love for another man to him while she was drugged up on morphine.

Thinking back though, she thinks breaking up with Josh was less painful than the look on Castle's face when she'd told him she'd be staying at her father's cabin for the summer while she recovered. He looked like she'd kicked his puppy. But she needs this, needs this time to lick her wounds and give her body the chance to heal. She doesn't want Castle to see her that way.

He already told her he thinks she's a superhero. She's pretty sure he'd change his mind if he saw her walking around with a limp or nearly passing out from physical therapy. That's not the woman he fell in love with and she doesn't need him to see that side of her.

So, she goes to the cabin alone, despite how much it hurts to have to ask him to stay away, to ignore the pleading in his gaze.

It's one of the hardest things she's ever had to do, especially since all she wants is to be near him, to hear him repeat the words he'd said to her while she was bleeding out in the grass. She needs the comfort of those words now more than ever and she finds herself holding onto them when things get particularly bad. It happens more than a few times when she's shaken awake from the nightmares, her body coiled tight, her chest on fire, and she repeats his words in her head like a mantra to get her heart to calm.

But about two weeks after she's left the hospital, her nightmares change, and it's no longer she who falls to the ground with a bullet in her chest in her dreams. She wakes up with tears staining her cheeks and the phantom warmth of his blood covering her hands.

It's not the first time she wishes he weren't so far away, but it is the first time she can't resist the urge to reach for her phone, hitting his number on speed dial before her breathing has even had time to even out.

He startles awake at the sound of his phone ringing from the nightstand, his vision still blurry from sleep and he wonders who would call him at three in the morning but he reaches for it nonetheless.

His heart lurches into his throat when he sees Kate's number on the screen, the call of sleep leaving his body instantly. He hasn't talked to her in two weeks and he doesn't remember the last time he's been so miserable. He meant it when he'd promised he'd give her time, that he was willing to wait however long she needed, but he didn't think he'd have to do it away from her. Especially not after having to watch her die.

"Beckett?" he answers, praying that she's okay.

"Castle," she sighs, and he's pretty sure he hears relief in her voice. Her breathing is ragged, and he recognizes the distinct sound of sniffling over the receiver.

"Kate is everything okay? Are you safe?" He asks, panic lacing his bones and he's already on his feet, pulling on a pair of jeans. He can be out the door in half a minute if she needs.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Castle."

Oh, but she's not. She's crying and she's sure as hell not calling him at three in the morning because she's fine.

He stops in his tracks about five steps away from reaching the door.

"Kate, talk to me. What happened?" he asks, hoping his voice doesn't sound as panicked as he feels. He wants to help her. If she's calling him, it's probably because she thinks he can help somehow, that he can make whatever this is better, and he desperately wants her to be right, wants to be that person for her.

He hears her try to control her breathing over the line and he waits her out.

"I had a nightmare," she whispers after about a minute and his heart sinks. He knows exactly how terrifying those can be, has been living with them himself for the past couple of weeks, avoiding sleep as often as humanly possible. "You were the one who was shot and I- I'm sorry I called so late, I just ... needed to hear your voice."

Something flutters in his stomach, warmth spreading from his chest and reaching his limbs.

"It's never too late to call, Kate. And, I have them too, you know? You have no idea how many times I came close to doing the same thing," he admits, moving towards the couch and laying down with the phone at his ear.

"You can call me too if you need," she says after a few beats and he feels his lips lift up in a small smile.

"Okay," he answers, even though he wouldn't dare, knowing she needs her rest far more than he needs to be reassured.

"Will you stay on the line?" she asks, sounding sleepy and he turns on his side, getting comfortable on the couch, clutching the phone to his ear.

"Yeah, Kate. I'll stay." He falls asleep around five in the morning to the sound of her even breathing.

The next day he calls Jim Beckett. He doesn't know if it's the right thing to do, if she'll think this is too soon or an invasion of her privacy but he needs to see her. He's had nightmares every night since her shooting; he should've known she'd have them too, that they're most probably worse than his, taking her back to the blistering pain as a bullet pierced her chest.

But last night is the first time in a while he's had a decent night's sleep and he thinks she slept better too after having called him. Maybe they can help each other. He wants nothing more than to help her in any small way he can, and if that means being there when she wakes up from a nightmare, then he damn well plans to be there.

Jim is reluctant to give him the address of the cabin at first when he tells her father that Kate didn't invite him over. He gives in when Rick tells him about the night before. The smart thing to do would have been to call Kate and ask her if she wouldn't mind him dropping by but he's too scared she'll deny him, even if it's what they both need.

When he hangs up with Jim, he packs a small overnight bag and leaves a note for Alexis on the counter. He'll call his daughter in a few hours to explain in more detail, but he only plans to be gone for twenty-four hours. If Alexis stays at Paige's house like she'd told him she might not even notice his absence.

The drive up to her father's cabin is a bit longer than he'd thought but he makes it there in a little under three hours. The nerves in his stomach start to twist into knots, pulling at his insides as the tires of his Mercedes crunch over the gravel of the small driveway.

He turns off the ignition and he almost expects her to come out onto the porch. It's so peaceful out here, so quiet, there's no way she wouldn't hear his car pull up. It's just after one in the afternoon, and he hopes she isn't sleeping, that he won't wake her. When she doesn't come out he walks the rest of the way up the drive and knocks gently on the door. If she doesn't answer he'll wait outside until she wakes.

His hand falls back to his side and he hears the floorboards creak from inside. Good, she's probably awake, then.

A few seconds pass with no sound from inside but then the door is wrenched open suddenly and he's faced with a wide-eyed Kate Beckett pointing a gun at him.

Castle steps back, startled, his heart pounding in his chest and he lifts his hands up in the air out of reflex.

"Woah, Kate, it's me," he reassures her, even though she can clearly see him now.

Something seems to shift behind her eyes when she registers that it's him and she lowers her weapon, her body deflating, caving in on itself.

"Castle, what are you doing here?" she asks, surprised and confused. He thinks he sees something bright in her eyes, something that looks like she's happy to see him, but it's gone a second later, her gaze falling to the ground as she wraps her arms around herself protectively.

It's not the greeting he'd hoped for but honestly, he should have expected this. He's showing up here without her consent, without even asking after she'd asked for some time.

"I um- I needed to see you. After last night I just... I needed to know if you were doing okay."

She bites down on her bottom lip and he notices for the first time how very tired she looks, how small. This is not the Kate Beckett he's used to seeing but honestly, he's not sure he's ever seen anything more beautiful. She's alive. He knew that, he just… sometimes his dreams get the better of him.

"You could have called," she answers, still not looking at him.

"You always say you're fine, Beckett. I needed to know the truth, how you're really doing."

"Well, here you have it. Not much of a superhero now, right?" she huffs, repeating his words from a few weeks ago at the hospital, her self-loathing evident.

The knot in his stomach tightens, his heart sinking because he'd had no intention of hurting her with those words. He takes a step closer to her, still out on the porch but close enough to touch her now and he raises a hand to her cheek slowly enough for her to back away from his touch if she wants. She doesn't, and he revels in the way her head tilts slightly, her cheek brushing against his palm.

"I didn't call you a superhero because you're perfect, Kate. You're a hero because no matter what happens you always get back up, you're the strongest person I know," he explains but she shakes her head.

"I just opened the door and pointed a gun at you," she whispers, her voice small as she continues to avert her eyes from him. "When I heard your car pull up my whole body seized up and I grabbed my gun. I was so convinced someone was here to finish off the job I couldn't even bring myself to look out the window."

His heart clenches painfully in his chest, a fierce ache flaring to life as her words sink in. He promised himself he wouldn't cross any boundaries, but he can't find the strength to resist, not when she's standing in front of him sounding so broken. He steps forward, breaching the distance between them to pull her in a hug, cradling her head to his chest. She lets her body fall into him, her arms banding around his waist and he breathes in the comforting scent of her cherry shampoo, sifting his fingers through her hair as he holds her close.

"No one is coming for you, Kate," he tells her even though they both know he can't know that for sure, can't promise she'll be safe until they have her shooter in custody. "I should have called to ask if I could come. I'm sorry."

She nuzzles her nose against his chest, her fingers tightening around the material of his t-shirt at the small of his back, holding him close. "It's okay, Castle. You couldn't have known."

"From now on, no more surprise visits, I promise," he vows, and a small laugh makes it past her lips.

"Deal," she accepts and pulls back from him a few beats later. "Want to come in?" she asks, opening the door up wider and stepping to the side. He nods and walks inside.

He steps past her towards the kitchen with the intention of making her a coffee, but he turns back when he hears her wince.

Castle rushes back to her side, her body trembling, her legs weak as she lists into him.

"Couch," she grits out between clenched teeth, her voice pained, and he nods, taking slow steps as he holds her up, his arm around her waist. He guides her over to the full-length sofa in the living room, his heart beating hard as she fights back a whimper when her knees bend so she can lower her body to the cushions.

"Hey, you're okay, Kate," he tells her as he helps her settle into the couch slowly. "It's only been two weeks, you're doing great." He continues to talk her through the pain, her breathing laboured, her face scrunched up and eyes screwed shut as pain shoots out from her chest and down her every limb.

God, he wishes he could take it all away, that he could make it better somehow. She isn't saying anything, isn't ordering him to leave though, and the hand she's snagged around his shirt, holding onto him seems like a good sign. He talks her through it, brushing the tendrils of her hair away from her face and tucking them behind her ear. Eventually her breathing begins to even out, her muscles relaxing as the pain starts to ease and ebb away.

"'M sorry," she mumbles, her eyes still shut but before he can assure her that she has nothing to apologize for, he sees her succumb to the current of sleep pulling her under. Good. She needs to rest.

Castle spends a few more minutes there, sitting on the wooden floor of her cabin by the couch, watching her, taking the time to convince himself that she's alive, that she's okay. He gives himself five more minutes, continuing to run his hands through her hair softly, but he loses track of time, probably sits there for at least twenty.

Eventually he manages to peel himself up, determined to make her some lunch so that she has something to eat when she wakes. There isn't much to work with in the small fridge they keep here but there's enough for pancakes. He knows she's still recovering but she needs to be putting on some weight and he imagines she's likely to prefer eating something soft.

Kate sleeps for about two hours after that but he doesn't mind. He puts the pancakes in the oven, so they'll stay warm for when she wakes, and he does a bit of exploring, content to let her get her rest.

Castle is reading a book from what he finds is an impressive library for such a small cabin in the woods when she starts to rouse.

"Castle?" She calls his name, her voice groggy from sleep and he looks up from the page immediately, setting the book aside on the table to walk over to her.

"Hey," he answers, settling back down on the floor by the couch beside her. "Good sleep?"

She nods. "Dreamless," she says, sounding sheepish. Yeah, he knows first-hand how those are a blessing. Avoiding the horrors of his nightmares is always good but it's also never pleasant to wake up to a reality that falls grotesquely short of his good dreams. A dreamless sleep is usually the most peaceful he gets these days and he's grateful if Kate got a little of it. "What time is it?" She asks, looking around.

"Almost two."

"What? Castle, why would you let me sleep so long?" She asks, sounding frustrated and his heart rate picks up when she tries to sit up too fast only to wince in pain a second later.

"Hey, take it easy. There's no rush, Beckett. You just needed sleep, that's all. Oh, and I had enough time to make pancakes too," he grins, hoping he's somehow helping to distract her from the pain most likely blooming in her chest.

"You made pancakes?" She looks a little surprised and he's still not sure if she's happy with this information, but he nods slowly, tentatively. Too late now.

"You didn't have to do that, Castle."

"I know. But I… I wanted to."

He can see she tries to resist, but the smile manages to make it to her lips. "Thanks, Castle," she answers, her voice gentle as she looks up at him with soft eyes.

He can't help the way the corners of his lips curl up slightly as he takes her in like this, her hair still a little ruffled from sleep, the imprint of the pillow still on her cheek. She looks adorable, amazing, and... kind of sexy.

Okay, no. He really shouldn't be thinking like that right now. Definitely not an appropriate thought.

"You hungry now? I put them in the oven to keep them warm," he explains, picking himself up off the floor and walking over to the small kitchen a few feet away.

Her stomach growls in answer and she chuckles lightly.

"I'll take that as a yes," Castle deduces, and he wonders whether or not she's been feeding herself properly, taking the time to make breakfast, lunch and dinner. He'll leave the questioning for another day though, because he has a feeling he won't like her answer and he already feels lucky she hasn't thrown him out yet. He brings two plates of pancakes and some maple syrup to the living room where she's moved into a sitting position on the couch.

She takes the plate from him with a genuine smile and he sits down next to her on the couch.

"Has there been any progress on the investigation?" She asks after a few seconds of silence and the cracks in his heart deepen because he can hear the tentative hope laced in her voice, hates that he has to be the one to crush it.

He shakes his head and watches her jaw clench, her head fall forward.

"Hey," he calls, his hand reaching out to curl around her arm. "We're going to catch this bastard, okay? I promise you that."

"You know you can't make that kind of promise, Castle. And every day that goes by and I'm stuck here like this, I'm letting it get cold. Letting him get away."

"Kate, this isn't on you. You aren't letting him get away with anything-"

"No?" She asks, angry now, frustrated. "Because the way I see it, that's exactly what's happened. He shot me in the chest and he's getting away with it. Just like they had my mother stabbed and got away with it and I can't do a damn thing about it," she spits out and he feels a heavy weight settle on his chest, compressing his lungs, making it harder to breathe.

"You're right, Kate. I can't promise you that we'll find this guy. But what I can promise is that the entire precinct has been working day and night on this and I don't even think the boys have gone home for more than a few hours last week. And I know you want to be the one to nail this guy but right now, I just… we need you to stay safe."

He doesn't know what else to say, how to make this better. He thought coming here would help them both but maybe he'd been wrong. It's clear that what she wants - what she needs more than anything - is to find the person who shot her, and he'd probably be more help back at the precinct with the boys like he's been for the past two weeks. Gates might have kicked him out, but he'll find a way, for Beckett he'll manage to weasel his way back in and find a damn lead on this case.

"I'll go," he says, lifting up from the couch, leaving his empty plate on the table, his heart heavy with the thought of leaving her, but if it's for the best-

"No, Rick-" She halts his movements with the touch of her hand, her small fingers curling around his wrist in protest. "Stay, please." She sounds panicked, like the thought of him leaving has her feeling uneasy and it has his insides fluttering, a smidge of hope blooming from within his chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out at you, I just-"

"Kate, you don't have to apologize, it's okay," he assures her, turning back towards her and kneeling down beside the couch again, his hand catching hers when it slips from his wrist. He laces his fingers through hers, marveling at how well, how perfectly they fit together, like something akin to puzzle pieces.

Kate doesn't take her hand away, but she shakes her head at his words. "I shouldn't take it out on you, it isn't fair."

"What's not fair is that you've been shot and the bastard who did it isn't behind bars yet. You have every right to be angry," he counters, showing her he understands where she's coming from. She closes her eyes and sighs, taking a moment to compose herself.

"But I'm not angry with you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, and when she opens her eyes again to meet his gaze, he swears he could get lost forever in the depths of green and hazel.

"I know," he nods, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."

"Good." She squeezes his hand, her smile matching his.

After a moment he moves to take their empty plates back into the kitchen. He's glad when he sees that she's eaten all her pancakes. He sets their dishes in the sink and heads back to the couch.

"Want to watch a movie?" He suggests. He figures she isn't up to anything too physical and he's good with just relaxing if it means he's allowed to be close to her.

"Sure. We don't have much, though. Mostly some older DVDs and we don't have any of the renting apps because of the poor reception down here."

"I'm sure we'll find someth- Oh my god, Beckett, is that Jurassic Park?" He exclaims interrupting himself, his voice going higher with excitement and she can't help the laugh that tumbled past her lips. "You thought I wouldn't be okay with the most epic dinosaur movie ever made?"

She smiles at him and shakes her head as he holds his hand up to his chest in mock affront.

"Just put it in, Castle."

Her eyes go wide a moment later when she realizes what she's said and how it sounds. "Don't-"

"I'm going to give you a free pass on that because you were kind enough not to shoot me earlier in your doorway," he says in a tone that suggests she should be grateful and damn him, she's still smiling.

He powers on the DVD player and settles back into the couch cushions, making sure to leave a respectable distance between them if that's what she wants.

She doesn't.

His heartbeat quickens when she scoots over so that her thighs rest against his and about half way through the movie, she leans her head to rest on his shoulder.

By the time the credits roll on screen, Beckett is asleep against his chest and he doesn't even consider waking her. She'll probably be upset with him for letting her sleep some more, but she still needs all the rest she can get. So, he stays on the couch, his fingers sifting through her hair, lightly massaging her scalp until he eventually falls asleep too.

"Castle." He wakes up from the sound of his name, recognizes the voice instantly, would know it anywhere, even in sleep. "You let me sleep again." It sounds like she's trying to scold him but falling awfully short.

"Hey, I fell 'sleep too," he mumbles, his eyes burning at the thought of opening them to face the day. Or is it evening now? He can't really be sure.

But the hiss of pain coming from the woman at his side dries out any remnants of sleep from his body.

"You okay?" Her face is contorted in pain, her eyes screwed shut and her hands are clutching at her sides.

"Fine," she grits out, but he doesn't believe her for a second.

"Wait here, I'll go get your pain meds-"

"No," she stops him, her voice harsher than he'd expected and he looks back at her, puzzled. "They make me sleepy and I- I've slept enough, Castle. I'm fine."

"Kate, you are not fine," he argues, confused by her refusal to take the medication she's been prescribed to help with the pain. Has she not been taking them?

"It'll pass, just gimme a few minutes." He can't believe this. She's trying to just ride out the pain - the pain of a damn gunshot wound - and she expects him to be okay with that?

Hell no.

He heads for the bathroom and opens up the medicine cabinet above the sink but he doesn't see the pills on any of the shelves. Where else would she keep them?

He closes the cabinet and sees his face reflected in the mirror.

Oh. This is probably to high up for her to reach right now and lifting her arms past her head seems to be a struggle. She wouldn't keep them here.

He goes to her bedside table next. Bingo.

He scowls when he twists the cap open to find the small bottle of pills still nearly full.

When he gets back to the living room she's still curled in on herself on the couch, her breathing laboured and heavy as she visibly struggles to pull air into her lungs.

Castle pours a tall glass of water and kneels in front of her on the sofa, presenting her with two pills and the water. She doesn't look at him but he can see her debating, mulling it over in her head.

"Kate, please. For me." Her eyes snap up to meet his and he's not exactly sure what she sees there: he's just a desperate man trying his best to help her, but whatever it is, he's grateful because she reaches out to take the pills and water from his hand, swallowing them down quickly.

"Thank you," he breathes, and he knows her pain won't stop instantly but it will eventually. As he gets up from the floor, Castle thoughtlessly brushes a kiss to her forehead.

Panic flares in his gut the second his lips pull away from her skin, realizing what he's done, fearing that she'll push him away or worse, ask him to leave, but neither of those things come.

He isn't sure if it's because she truly doesn't mind the action or because she's too out of it right now to bother being angry with him. His insides flutter at the thought of the first option and he selfishly hopes he's right.

Castle sets the glass down in the sink and looks over at the clock, realizing it's now just past six.

"Are you hungry? I could cook something for dinner," he proposes as Kate lifts herself up from the couch slowly.

"I'll help." Castle shakes his head at her, but he lets her help. Stubborn woman.

They cut vegetables side by side, and Kate glares at him when his gaze lingers on her for too long. He does eventually convince her to take a seat when all that's left to do is wait for the sauce and pasta to cook.

It's nice, so easy to be with her like this, their conversation flowing naturally and nothing awkward about the momentary silences. They're still just them, bumping hips in the kitchen and sharing soft smiles as they talk.

It has his memory flashing back to when she stayed at the loft after her apartment blew. He knew he was doomed when he found himself wishing she never had to leave.

When they finish eating dinner, Castle washes up their dishes on his own while Kate rests on the couch, though she isn't happy about it. He hangs up the dish towel on a hook near the stove when he's finished drying everything and walks over to her.

He doesn't want to leave, is dreading having to tell her goodbye but the sun has already set and he doesn't want to risk falling asleep at the wheel. It's a good ride to get back to the city. Not to mention, Kate is already starting to doze off on the couch, her eyelids drooping even as she fights to stay awake.

"Hey," he says softly as he takes a seat next to her on the sofa. "I should probably head back."

He almost laughs when she groans in disapproval, shaking her head. It looks like the pain meds might finally be kicking in.

"No, you should stay. It's too late to drive back, Castle. 's dangerous," she mumbles, asking him to stay for the second time today and he can't help the way his hand reaches out to run through her hair, taming the brown curls and smoothing his thumb across her forehead. Her head turns to the side, seeking his touch and a pulse of heat washes over his.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Beckett. And you probably wouldn't be saying the same thing if you were completely awake," he counters, watching as her eyes creek open to meet his.

"Always want you to stay, Castle," she answers, sounding as serious and as sincere as ever and his heart clenches, thrashing violently in his chest at her words. God, he loves her. "Just because you managed to get me drugged up on pain meds, doesn't mean I say things I don't mean."

He laughs at that, nodding in relent, stroking his thumb over the smooth skin of her temple one last time before pulling his hand back. He doesn't think they've ever done so much touching, let alone in a single day, but he isn't about to complain.

"Fine, I'll stay and sleep on the couch." His smile widens when she pouts, her expression suggesting she wants him sleeping somewhere else. But no, not tonight. He isn't crossing anymore lines until he knows with absolute certainty that he has her full consent. "You should get some sleep, Beckett."

She sighs, peeling her eyes open once more, shaking herself awake so that she can make it to her bed.

"Night, Castle," she whispers, and his whole body goes tense when she leans over, her hand landing on his shoulder and she presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. Flames engulf his entire body from head to toe, his insides somersaulting and she's sure she'd mock him for the blush that covers his cheeks if she were awake enough to notice.

And then she's gone, standing from the couch and dragging herself back to her bedroom.

"Until tomorrow, Kate," he whispers into the empty room, his smile so bright his cheeks start to ache with it. He doesn't think he's ever had more hope for them.

He finds some blankets in the hall closet and settles on the couch for the night about fifteen minutes later, but he's having trouble finding sleep. It should be easier, he thinks, having Kate in the room right across the hall, knowing that she's alive and well and on a steady - albeit not painless - road to recovery.

But he's glad he's still awake an hour later when the sound of whimpers and soft screams reaches him.

Kate.

He's up from the couch in a matter of seconds and practically jogs over to the room he saw her disappear into for the night.

She's curled up in a fetal position, her hands clenched tightly in the sheets and her face is contorted in pain.

"Kate." He calls her name as he enters the room, moves towards the bed and tries to wake her from this nightmare. "Kate, you're okay. You have to wake up."

Her eyes are still closed and if anything, her screams get worse at the sound of his voice.

"Castle, no, please," she begs and his heart cracks, knowing he plays a part in this nightmare, contributing to her pain is torture.

"Kate," he repeats, sitting on the bed and leaning forward to grab her shoulders. "You're dreaming, Kate. Please wake up, you're okay, everyone is okay," he rambles, doesn't know what to say or how best to do this but then her eyes startle open and she gasps for breath, tears running down her cheeks.

"Hey, I'm here," he says to turn her attention towards him, but he isn't prepared for the way she launches herself into him, her arms coming around his waist, her thighs bracketing his.

If he weren't so worried about her, so desperate to make this all go away he'd probably be freaking out by now by how much of her bare skin is exposed, how she's practically straddling him in nothing but her underwear and an oversized t-shirt. But now is not the time and all he can do is hold her close, trail his fingers in soothing motions up and down her back while he whispers sweet nothings in her ear, hoping it helps her breathing and her heartbeat even out.

"It's okay, just a dream" he repeats probably for the fifteenth time, but her body is shaking, and her hands are clenched around the back of his shirt, holding onto him so tightly. He can feel her tears seeping through the material of his shirt where her head is nestled into the cove of his neck. His nightmares are usually awful, leave him sweating and shaking but he'd go through them every night if it meant she never had to have one again.

"I'm sorry, Castle," she mumbles a few minutes later, pulling away slightly when the shaking has subsided, but she won't meet his eyes. "God, I'm a mess and I- you shouldn't have to see me like this."

"Kate." He stops her before she can say another word and keep thinking for a second that this - being there for her and helping her through it - is somehow a nuisance to him. He places his fingers under her chin, urging her to meet his gaze. "You don't have to hide from me. I would give up anything for you never to suffer through that again."

"Don't think Batman has any nightmares like this," she murmurs and damn it, he's going to regrets calling her a superhero for a long time. But she's wrong.

"I'm pretty sure he did Beckett. You know who else had nightmares? Elektra. And don't you dare argue with me on this, she's just as badass as Batman, if not more."

Kate's head falls to his shoulder, but he can feel the hint of her smile and the gentle lift of her lips against the skin at his neck.

"How did you even know I loved Elektra?" She asks, her posture a little less tense as her body begins to unwind.

He shrugs. "Lucky guess."

She curves one eyebrow at him skeptically, narrowing her eyes but there's no way he's telling her-

"You snooped around my apartment and found my comic collection, didn't you?"

His eyes widen and although he doesn't say a word, it's enough for her to realize he's guilty.

"Castle!" She exclaims, slapping his arm but it's soft enough that she knows she doesn't really mean it. Not to mention, the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips kind of gives her away. "When did you go through my stuff?"

"I didn't mean to, I swear!" He holds up his hands in supplication, claiming innocence when he's pretty much just admitted to being guilty. "It was during that case with Jordan Shaw. I was just trying to find somewhere to hang up my coat and when I opened up your front closet I saw some colour on the top shelf… I may or may not have gone back to check what was there when you went to sleep."

She glares at him and he half expects to be slapped again but instead her hands come up around his shoulders, her fingers scratching at his nape. It sends sparks of electricity coursing through his veins.

"I better not catch you going through my stuff again, Castle," she warns but there's something soft in her voice and it sounds like she's not even mad. He's never dealt with this version of Beckett before, but then again, maybe she's a little more Kate than the tough-as-nails detective he usually sees at the precinct.

"Promise," he agrees a little too quickly and she fixes him with another skeptical glare. Yeah, maybe he shouldn't vow to refrain from snooping: it's kind of an instinct he has trouble reigning in.

Her expression gets softer after a few beats and all he can think about is how he wants to pull her in closer again, hug her to his chest and hold her tight. "Thanks, Castle," she says shyly, before he can do anything that crosses a line.

"For what?"

"For distracting me… being there through that and not judging me," she admits with a shrug, diverting her eyes as if it's nothing.

"Always." The word is out of his mouth before it's filtered through his brain and he's afraid she'll shut him out, that he may be pushing too far for one night, but she smiles at him and his insides flutter, butterflies taking flight, setting off a storm in the pit of his stomach. The feeling only grows stronger when Kate moves to lay back down on the bed, pulling him with her so that he lands on his side behind her.

His heart nearly stops when she pulls his arm over her body and cradles his hand to her chest, guiding his fingers to rest over the jagged skin of her scar. Castle struggles to keep his breathing even, but he settles in behind her, his chest plastered to her back and she makes room for him to slide his thigh between hers.

They don't do this, don't normally touch or do anything more than speak in layered subtext about the things that matter but tonight feels different. It feels like there's hope for more than hidden feelings and broken communication.

Castle shares her pillow, their bodies too intertwined for him to have his own, and he nuzzles his nose at the back of her neck, breathing in her familiar scent like a wave of fresh air to his depraved lungs.

And just when he thinks she's fallen asleep, she has his heart stopping again.

"Love you, Castle."