Disclaimer: Of course I don't own this wonderful show, if I did - there would be no hiatus.

Her body is limp, heavy but still weightless.

Like she's floating, hanging.

Again.

She turns her body, fingers clawing the cement, legs futile as the toes hit the smooth surface – no foothold, no hope.

A tremble courses through her body, again.

So she does it again, keeps fighting.

She has to.

He'll get here, she can hear him, so distinct, so certain.

"Kate."

He's begging her to hold on, he just needs a second.

She's reaching for him but he isn't there.

He's not there to pull her up.

He's not there to save her.

She claws, kicks and clutches, fingers scraping over the grit, the pads wearing thin – layers being sheared off by her own weight, the heaviness she's become.

There's nothing to keep her here, nothing to haul her back.

He's not there to pull her over that ledge, again.

"Kate," his voice is sharp, a thick rasp. "Wake up." It's a command as he jolts her shoulder, catching his fingers with hers as she tries to clutches at the sheets, trying to knot her fingers into the thin material.

She groans, another jerk, fingers a vice around his.

But still she kicks a leg out, as she jerks forward, pulling herself towards him.

"Kate," he begs, trying again, sliding his other arm beneath her, hauling her against him as she falls slack, again.

She jerks, toes curling against his shin, fingers tight to his own then suddenly slack, limp as her head twists, suddenly buried in his neck.

When she gasps he mutters against her shoulder, soft reassurances that he's here and she needs to wake up.

He expects her to jerk awake in his arms, awoken but a sense of falling.

But she doesn't.

The warmth overwhelms her, the grip around her body, curled around something so familiar, so certain, so… him.

She's still here, still in his bed, wrapped around him.

So unlike her.

But for him, she's never been who she thought she was – she's always been more, always wanted to be more.

So when she wakes, nose trailing across warm skin, cheek sliding over his pulse, chin poised on his clavicle she twists her neck and presses her mouth to his skin, finding the pulse with her sleep-slowed lips just once, soft and simple.

She swallows as she removes her mouth, sliding her chin back along the bone to resettle when she realises, he's speaking, soft whispers.

He's awake.

Unless he talks in his sleep.

Does he talk in his sleep?

She's never…

Well now she gets to know.

She finds out.

They find these things out together.

"Kate," he mutters onto her neck, breath warm and prickly, sending goose bumps across in a rippling wave. "Wake up."

She hums, not quite ready to talk.

"You okay?"

Okay, now she's a little more awake.

Is she okay? Of course she's okay.

She's … here.

How could she be anything other than okay?

She hums, forces her head to lift, fails and settles for setting her mouth against his clavicle, another kiss – because she can.

Because she waited and now she's here, ready and they're both more than willing.

"You sure? Because that dream had-"

"Dream?" She manages to lift her head, meeting his gaze.

What dream?

"You kept kicking me, you jerked when you-"

She knows she's regarding him completely puzzled, but she can't help it – she has no idea what he's talking about.

He kisses her as her brow furrows and she flicks her eyes to their still joined hands, to the small crescent moons he knows will still visible, where her nails were biting only seconds before.

"What was it?" he asks as she withdraws, still confused.

"I don't remember." She sounds sincere.

"You kicked me, so I figured it was the rooftop…" He doesn't need to say more, he knows she follows. They talked about it a little more, wrapped in his bed sheets in hushed whispers before she'd kissed a line down his neck and he'd promised he'd always be here to listen, reassuring her again.

"I guess… I don't remember." He feels the twist of her fingers again, curling them over his, the rough pads of her fingers as she toys with his fingers, with his knuckles. "Sorry."

He finally lifts his head, from their knotted hands, from the distraction of how intimate, how close she is – they are. "Hey, what do you-"

"For waking you." She shrugs as if he shouldn't be questioning, he should be accepting.

He shifts, curls himself around her again, quickly pressing her against the mattress. "I'm glad I could… help. You may not remember, but you needed-"

She finds the edge of his jaw as he speaks, entirely distracting as she flicks her tongue against the coarse stubble. "Thank you then."

She mutters her thanks around her tongue, letting it dance across his skin, fingers losing his and finding a shoulder, the nape of his neck, burying them there instead. The easy shift as his hands find her skin, fingertips tracing over the point of her elbow, the other arm wrapped tight around her, keeping her against his chest.

"No need for thank you either, Kate." He drags his chin across her mouth, scratching lightly as he finds her mouth, tongue certain and deft as he engages her, not hurried - not yet.

She manages to smirk against his mouth, nip the edge of his lip, stealing back some of the control he has so certainly claimed.

"I," she dislodges her mouth from his as soon as he speaks, tipping her head back as his lips automatically dip to the line of her neck, "still can't-"

She swallows before she speaks, just as she realises where he's going. "I swear to God, Castle, if you say you can't believe I'm naked in your bed one more time, I'll-"

He cuts her off, mouth suddenly hot and insistent, his weight already pushing her deeper into the mattress, his weight hovering over her, again. He huffs an exhale into her mouth, against her chin as he sucks on her bottom lip. "You'll what? Because I don't think you're about to leave my bed, naked or not."

She chuckles, dislodging his mouth on the laugh, nudging his thighs with her knees, realises he's even worked his way between them too. "I could always just kick you out of bed." She gives a shrug, lets the corner of her mouth kick up in a smile, watching as his eyes dance in response, the shiver that seems to overwhelm him.

But then he leers over her, mouth at her ear, breath a steely calm and mouth open. "You wouldn't kick me out of my bed either, you can't get-"

She takes the opportunity, sucks his earlobe into her mouth so quickly he gasps against her cheek, shocked. As soon as he recovers she nips the soft skin, just a nip on the edge that earns a hearty groan in response. "You're going to be the death of me," he manages as she does it again, earning a deft wandering of his hands in response, lifting her whole body to shift them both.

She huffs a laugh around the lobe working it in her tongue as she feels his mouth find her skin. "I can deal with that."

She feels him shudder as she finally drops it, his mouth instantly on hers. "I can't." The words are a gasp as he hovers over her.

She can only smirk as she pulls him closer, again. Letting him weigh her down, shredded fingers finding his smooth skin as she claws at him, toes curling against his calves, waiting – almost begging, keep her here, haul her closer.

Push her over the edge, again.

As always, let me know your thoughts.
Yeah... That was mean to phrase it like that.