Disclaimer: Succumbing to the urge of not wanting to get out of bed for the foreseeable future does not a good writer make. Which is why I managed to make it to my classes today.

Mild spoilers for 4x21. Most of it is conjecture.

She hasn't seen him in a month. Twenty-nine days to be exact. The length of February in a leap year, which only occurs once every four years.

She wonders if her relationship with him is like a leap year, bound to tilt on its head after four years of the same. The only difference is she that isn't sure it can ever go back to the way it was, can ever go back to the same 365 days.

She doesn't know what's changed, but she feels the fight leave her with each passing day.

Which is why she hasn't called. She picks up the phone several times a day to call Slaughter under the guise of checking in to make sure Castle isn't being a severe pain the ass, but she can't even bring herself to do that.

He's a big boy. He can take care of himself, which he's made perfectly crystal clear.

"Yo, Beckett." She looks up from her DD5 in progress to find Ryan and Esposito crowding in around her desk, blocking his chair from view. She suppresses a tired smile.

"Find anything on the canvass?" They exchange shifty glances.

"Not exactly," Ryan says, looking guilty.

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over in chest in a gesture of warmth and comfort rather than anger. Even in her turtleneck, she's freezing.

Her appetite has taken a big hit since he left and she's only managed to eat a small meal once a day. She wouldn't be surprised if she dropped a few pounds and a good deal of body heat as a result.

She shivers. "Spit it out, boys."

"We bumped into Slaughter today."

Her chest tightens. "Oh?"

"Yeah. But…" Ryan trails off, throwing Esposito a pleading look.

"Castle wasn't with him," Esposito finishes.

Kate shrugs. "Maybe he took the day off."

"That's what we thought, too. But then he asked us how he was 'holding up'."

Kate frowns, dropping her hands. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Apparently Castle stopped shadowing Detective Slaughter three weeks ago," Ryan says quietly. "He was in an accident. Broke a few bones."

"What?" she hisses.

They recoil slightly, as if she's bitten them. "Slaughter said he was sorry," Ryan says quickly.

"I don't care about him," she says exasperatedly. No, her pissed off reaction is reserved solely for the writer, who hasn't even bothered to check in to tell her that he's suffered a few injuries after only being on Slaughter's service for a brief time.

Ryan and Esposito shift their feet anxiously, as if they've been caught doing something they shouldn't.

She sighs. "Did he say anything else?"

"Just that he was done with nosy civilian writers following him around." Esposito shrugs.

She runs a hand through her hair in exhaustion, her fingernails scraping her skull lightly. "All right. Thanks."

"You want us to kick his ass for you, boss?" Esposito huffs.

She ducks a smile quickly behind her hand, shaking her head.

"Perfectly capable of kicking it myself, Espo." A beat. "But I appreciate the offer."

He nods once and nudges Ryan, bowing his head towards their desks. They walk off, leaving Kate to ponder her next move.

She turns back to her flickering screen, typing mindlessly as her thoughts whirl in her brain. She wants to see him, wants to demand and scream and push, but she isn't sure she can deal with rejection again. Especially not from wounded Castle, who probably took a huge blow to his pride along with his injured limbs.

"Espo, you run financials on our vic yet?" She calls, fingers wrapping around the tight muscles in her neck. She thumbs the tension, tilting her head to the side as she waits for his response.

"Not yet. Should be back soon with the LUDS."

She clears her throat. "I'm gonna take off for a while. Call me if you get something, all right?"

She knows where she's going. They know where she's going. No use in pretending otherwise, but she isn't going to vocalize it, either.

"Will do, boss." He gives her an encouraging smile.

The corners of her mouth twitch as she shrugs into her coat. Her boys.

She stops off at a corner store on the way, picks up a few old movies on a whim. She feels foolish going over there empty-handed even though he isn't sick with a cold and there's little she can actually do to help him.

Half an hour ago all she could think about was pummeling him, and now she just wants to soothe his bruises with witty film noir.

She really needs to get a grip.

She knocks on his door gently, the bag of DVDs dangling in a sweaty palm. She smoothes a hand down her face, hopes the lines in her face aren't as visible as they've been for the last couple of weeks. She knows that no amount of sleep or food would fix it, that his presence is the only balm, the only cure that could ease the weight on her slim body.

She lets out a breath as the door swings open, a flash of long red hair peeking out from behind it.

"Alexis," she breathes, surprised. She shouldn't be surprised—she lives here, after all—but this is a small roadblock she hasn't really mentally prepared herself for.

Alexis nods once, forcing a tight smile. "Detective."

Kate winces. Detective. Yeah, not good.

"Is your Dad home?" she asks stupidly. Of course he's home, but that doesn't mean he wants to see her or that Alexis wants her to see him.

"He's here."

Kate nods, clenching the plastic bag tighter in her fist. Clearly, the teenager isn't going to be of much help here.

"I see." She hesitates. "Alexis…"

"Why are you here, Kate?" Alexis asks, exasperation laced in her tone.

She swallows hard, her mouth dry and rough like sandpaper. "Wanted to make sure he was okay." She sighs. "I didn't know about his injuries."

Alexis raises an eyebrow. "He didn't tell you?"

She shakes her head. "No, he didn't tell me," she says softly.

Alexis sighs, stepping aside to let her in. "He should be in bed resting, but knowing how stubborn he is, he might be in his office writing."

"Thanks, Alexis."

"I'd rather not see the look on his face when he finds out you're here, so you're on your own," she says indifferently before bounding up the steps.

Yeah, she obviously hasn't been winning any points with the young redhead either.

She sets the bag on the counter and shrugs out of her coat, laying it across the back of a chair. She has no immediate plans to leave and if they're going to get into it tonight, well then…

This is her last shot. If she can't get through to him tonight, then she's done. She lets out a shaky breath at her conclusion and picks up the bag again, traipsing to his office. She raps softly on the door before gently pushing it open.

"Castle?" she asks tentatively, peeking her head in.

His chair is empty and his laptop sits untouched on his desk.

She sighs, isn't sure she's going to be able to hold her ground if he's wrapped up in bed, injured and vulnerable. She kind of hoped he'd been breaking doctor's orders.

Oh, she feels like such a coward.

His bedroom door is ajar, but she can't see into it too far, can only make out the lump of his feet at the bottom of the bed.

She clears her throat. "Rick?" She nudges the door open further and steps in, sucking in a breath.

Maybe he's asleep. She can just…crawl in next to him, pretend like everything's going to be okay, trick herself into thinking that he's hers and this is just another night with her by his side.

She isn't that lucky. She finds him propped up, back against his pillow, engrossed in a video on his iPad, headphones tucked in his ears.

He looks…okay. There's a bruise under his eye and a cast around his left wrist, but he doesn't look too banged up. Her eyes flit to his feet, where blue plaster pokes out beneath the comforter.

Oh, okay. Broken leg, too.

He still hasn't noticed her, and she's afraid of startling him at this point. She wonders what he's watching, what's captivated him so that he doesn't notice an intruder in his own bedroom. Apparently, his observational skills have taken a hit since he left the 12th, she notes wryly.

She steps closer to his bed, wraps a hand around a post, leaning against it for purchase. She has a feeling she's gonna need it. She lets her head rest against it as he finally notices her out of the corner of his eye.

He startles, closing his eyes. Yeah, she was afraid that would happen.

He pulls his headphones from his ears and gives her a once-over, raising his eyebrows.

"You scared the hell out of me."

"I called your name," she says defensively.

"What are you doing here?"

"Word on the street is that you're nursing a few broken bones," she says, failing miserably to keep the bite of her voice. "I brought you a few movies," she says lamely as an afterthought, tossing the bag to the unoccupied side of the bed.

"'Word on the street'?"

She purses her lips. "Yeah, Ryan and Esposito ran into Slaughter today."

"You're angry," he observes.

She folds her arms across her chest, fixing him with a cold stare. "I think it's safe to say that."

He shrugs. "Didn't think it was important."

His words stop her for a moment. Her heart clenches when she realizes that he doesn't mean to say that his injuries aren't important, but that—

She swallows hard. Telling her wasn't even on his radar.

"I thought we were partners, Castle," she says quietly.

"Partners?" he spits. "I don't think that term has applied to us in ages, Detective."

She hates the way his title sounds on his lips, the way he can't even bring himself to use her last name, let alone her first.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

She huffs a disbelieving breath as she grabs the frame of the bed, clutching it tightly under her palms. She leans over the bed, ducking her head. She just needs a moment to herself, to keep her emotions in check. She doesn't trust this version of Castle to not throw it back in her face.

"You were never planning on coming back, were you?" The realization stuns her.

"No."

His straight answer catches her off-guard and the floor starts spinning from this angle. She lifts her head, gasping for breath.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve this, Castle, but Ryan and Esposito deserve better than this. Especially from you."

He's silent, knows she's right. She's grateful for the respite; she needs a second to regroup. She dares to sit at the edge of his bed, resting the back of her skull against one of the posts.

He eyes her curiously, almost suspicious.

She sighs. "What?"

"Nothing."

She rolls her eyes. "Castle, what is it?"

"I just don't understand why you're trying so hard to fix this."

"You don't think we're worth saving?" she asks, her voice cracking.

"Not if it's going to be like this all the time."

She wonders if she's loved a more idiotic man. "It doesn't have to be this way. Why are you making this so difficult?"

"Don't put this all on me. You've made decisions, too—bad decisions—that have made this irreparable."

So that's what this is about. He blames her.

"The least you can do is take responsibility for them," he says angrily.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that when all you've done for the last two months is sulk and throw your new flings in my face? If you would stop acting like a goddamn child for one second and tell me what's bothering you, you might've saved us both some time," she retorts.

"I don't owe you anything."

Oh.

Wow.

She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Fuck you, Castle," she whispers harshly, tears pricking her eyes.

She brushes the tears away, shaking her head. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and forces a tight, watery smile sure to leave her jaw aching later. "I'll see you around, Rick." A beat. "If you decide to man up and apologize to Ryan and Esposito, do me a favor and do it when I'm not around, would you?"

She's got her hand on the door, shaking fiercely, when she hears him, quiet and pained. "Did you ever love me, Kate?"

She doesn't understand his question. Of course she—

But he knows that. She'd told him as much after she was shot, that she—

But.

"If this is your way of twisting the knife deeper, Rick, then—"

"Just answer the question."

She turns around, lets the back of her head hit the door with a thud. The pain dulls the sting in her heart for a moment.

"Yes, Castle."

His face twists in pain. "When did you stop?"

Oh, yeah. She's really confused now.

"Castle, I—you—" She pauses, mind hazy. She steps closer to the bed again. "What do you think I've been trying to tell you these last couple of months?"

He shakes his head, doesn't know.

"I noticed that you'd been pulling away. Haven't been acting like yourself. And I thought…" she trails off, biting her lip. "I thought I waited too long to tell you."

She seems to have stunned him into silence.

"I really don't see why this matters," she says, exhausted.

"You love me?" he asks, blinking stupidly.

She stares at him as if he's grown another head. "I know we speak in a lot of subtext Castle, but you were present for that conversation on the swings, were you not?"

"Yeah. I thought you wanted me to wait…"

She nods slowly. "I did."

"So then why…" he trails off quietly, eyes cloudy. His body seems to have relaxed some and confusion has rapidly replaced his anger. "Why lie about hearing what I said?"

About—

Oh.

Shit.

"You—how—" she splutters.

"Your suspect in interrogation after the bombing." He clenches his fists.

Her mind rewinds to that day, replaying the conversation in her head. The way he'd acted afterwards, his not-so-subtle jabs at her.

"If this is seriously what's flipped your switch, I really wish you had said something. God," she shakes her head. They've both been so stupid. Even if she can fix this—can fix them—they've both hurt each other so much in the last two months.

"Tell me, Kate."

"I wanted to be in a position to say it back without any obstacles in the way."

"Obstacles?"

"At the time, I meant what I said about my mother's murder. I didn't want to get into a relationship when I was still putting the pieces of myself back together."

"And now?" His clear blue eyes pierce hers and she loses her breath a little.

"It was never about her. It's always been about me and who I am without her death anchored to my body."

"Jesus, Kate. I felt like such a fool. You—all this time…"

"I thought I was doing the right thing. Waiting." A beat. "I'll never be able to make it up to you, Castle. Just know that I'm deeply sorry that I've hurt you."

He closes his eyes against her apology, his head bouncing off the headboard. "Can we come back from this?" he asks softly.

"I don't know," she admits. "I know I've hurt you, but—" She sighs. "You've kind of been an ass these last couple of months. I'd like to just forget they happened, quite honestly."

"But you don't know if you can," he finishes.

She nods. "And I'm not taking away your right to be mad at me. You have every right, still do, but you have to let me move past the anger, too." She lets out a breath and moves to sit next to him on the bed.

She covers his uninjured hand with hers, rubbing his palm with her thumb.

"But I'm not quite ready to give you up," she confesses quietly. His eyes shine a little at her words.

"I'm sorry, Kate," he apologizes softly. Her heart loosens a little and she squeezes his hand gently.

She takes a deep breath, lifting his palm to press a kiss to it.

"I think our communication skills could use some work," she manages to joke.

He laughs a little. "Yeah."

"So I think it's only fitting to tell you that in spite of everything, I'm completely in love with you."

His breath hitches and a wide grin stretches over his face.

"There you are," she says quietly, relieved at the sight of the man she adores.

"I love you, too, Kate," he says reverently. He slides his injured hand through her hair, his cast brushing her cheek. She presses a kiss to the plaster.

"You gonna nurse me back to health?"

She laughs, rolling her eyes. "In your dreams, Castle."

Thanks for reading.

Olivia