Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights reserved to MilMar, ABC, etc. I'm just borrowing them for right now ... till Sept 24th.

Her first sense is smell. Warm, woody mingled with something unfamiliar. She takes a deep breath and soft light pierces her eyes through her closed eyelids. Opening them reveals soft rays of early morning light filtering in through unfamiliar windows flecked with the last few drops of rain from the night before. Soft pinks and grays flood the sky over a building she doesn't recognize. Raising her head she sees a familiar piece of clothing dangling from the lamp beside her and it all comes flooding back. His soft lips on her skin, his hands roaming her body. The way his fingers laced with hers as he loomed heavy over her driving her wild and loving her.

She stretches the arm that was tucked under her pillow out along the soft sheets, her fingers curling in memory. A soft smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. Yes. This. She shifts to roll onto her back, the delicious ache in her body reminding her she is alive. She cranes her neck and catches his body silhouetted by his dark sheets. She can see the rise and fall of his ribs as he lays on his side facing her, his breath dancing softly across her bare shoulder. She shifts further and a twinge snakes through her ribs up to her shoulder. Shit. The bastard got her good.

A hand pressed to her belly, she settles on her back, her eyes trained on Castle's sleeping face, his mouth slack and hair hanging over his closed eyes, fist around the pillow under his chin. She almost fell off of a building and all she wanted at that moment was him. Him. There. Like he always was to save her, to be the first face she saw after a near brush with death, to joke about it and squelch the fear a little so that she could swallow it with grace and move on.

She feels the grit of the concrete under her fingers, hears the click of her boots not able to grip the brick. Her breath catches and she squeezes her eyes shut against the faint taste of adrenaline and overwhelming regret. God. What if she had fallen? What if Ryan hadn't gone to Gates and been there to catch her? There was a thought ... Ryan.

Suddenly she's sitting up and running a shaky hand through her mussed hair. Her fingers settle over her mouth as it all replays before her. The beating she took, the hatred she felt for the man who had nearly cost her the life that Castle had bargained to keep safe, her overwhelming regret as she hung from the ledge pleading for Castle to come pull her up only to look into Ryan's blue eyes rimmed with apology and guilt. God, Ryan. Anger flares in her chest at his backstabbing. A tickling thought cools it as she realizes ... Had Ryan not said anything she would likely be dead and Esposito would be blaming himself. Huh, Esposito. God, what has she done?

She slips from beneath the soft sheets, walking on tip toe on the hardwood floors searching for something to cover herself. She has to walk away, find something else to occupy her mind. Just for a few minutes. Just to push it away and keep it there. Keep it from invading this moment.

She comes across her underwear and his shirt in the same corner of his room. How ... She shakes her head. She knows how. Everything had been so frenzied and on fire. Neither of them cared where their clothes ended up. She smirks in the dim light remembering her bra hanging from the lamp. Quietly she turns the knob on his bedroom door, slips out into his office as she buttons up his shirt over her exposed chest. She pauses and presses her nose into the collar, her eyes fluttering for a second before she moves around his desk for the kitchen. The loft is quiet in the soft rays of sun that slowly began to dance along the dark wood interior. A car horn blares in the distance as the hardwood under her feet becomes the slate of his kitchen. His kitchen. She smiles and lets her eyes float over to the cook top where she had prepared brunch for them two years ago after her apartment had gone up in flames. A small pang of regret hits her stomach and she draws a shaky breath. Coffee.

The ease at which she finds the coffee in the cabinet above the coffee maker, the mugs where she remembers them being that day she cooked, the spoons and creamer ... This works. She knows where everything is. Her eyes drift toward his office as the sound of the coffee pot boiling and dripping fills her ears. Everything.

He feels the fog of sleep drifting away as the sharp fingers of dawn lick at his eyelids. Scrunching his face he uncurls his hand from around his pillow and rubs the sleep from his eyes. The soft scent of cherries and musk hits him and his head snaps up. What ... Kate. His eyes fall to the rumpled sheets next to him, the slight dampness on the pillow where her still wet hair had settled the night before. His gut twists. Oh, God. Oh, Kate. He squeezes his eyes shut and rolls onto his back, the crook of his elbow resting over his eyes. She's gone. He knew. He knew it was all momentary adrenaline and flowery words brought to the surface by a brush with death. They had done this dance before ... Well, not that dance, that was new, but this dance around the truth. He thought she was different from the moment she said she wanted to join him for a ridiculous double feature.

Flashes of her face as she had told him nothing mattered, she didn't care, all she wanted was him, passes behind his eyelids. Her wet hair framing her face as she lay against his dark sheets, her soft skin rippling beneath his fingers. It was too much. Was this her gift to him? Her parting words and one night of letting him love her before she vanished again? He feels the sting of tears in his eyes and skin softly colliding with his hand thats hung off the side of the bed.

"Scoot over."

He jolts and his elbow falls to his chest. He blinks, unbelieving, up at the woman he was just about to curse, holding two mugs, wearing a smile and his shirt. Her smile fades and her eyes soften as she sets the mugs down on the bedside table.

"castle?" she says softly, her hand snaking out to thread through his hair, settling at the crown of his head. She searches his face, her thumb wiping at the soft skin under his eye. She's here. She didn't leave. She ... Brought him coffee? A smile breaks out across his face.

"Kate," he breathes. And her face changes.

"Oh, God. You ... You thought I left ... Oh, Castle."

She nudges his hip with her knee to shove him over and slides to the bed next to him, her hip settling at his tight, her foot under her, knee at his ribs. The hand that had been behind his head settles at his ear, earlobe softly clasped between her thumb and forefinger. This is new, this touching. He feels the ghost of her hands grabbing him the night before. The way her fingers fisted in his hair as he pressed her against his front door not being able to hold back any longer. She keeps her eyes on his, stares at him. Her lips quirk and she sighs.

"Rick ... I wouldn't ... Couldn't. After ... " her eyes trail to the middle of the bed and she presses her lips together suppressing the grin that wants to break free. Her eyes flick back to his, shining in the early morning light flooding the room. Her face changes to one he has seen before. In the bank. When the world faded away and all that was there was them, her hand on his jacket, a smile on her face and in her eyes.

He can't hold it back anymore. Before she can say anything else, he sits up and crushes her to his chest, her elbow trapped between them. She pants against his other ear, her lips brushing it softly. She feels her ribs twinge under the pressure, her hip spike sharply from where she hit the ledge before rolling over it. Somehow she doesn't care. It doesn't matter.

"Ssh, Castle. Ssh. I'm here," she whispers, her hand running up and down his bare side to sooth him. Shit. How did she keep doing this? Even after everything ... Her nose finds his neck, breaths him in. "I'm sorry ... Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Castle. I just ..."

He silences her with his mouth. Her lips are startled under his, her breathing short. Her eyes slip shut as he slowly kisses her apologies away. This is new, this slow, soft kissing. The kiss of two people in love. Kate pulls away first, her nose resting against his, her eyes still closed. He watches her lashes flutter and open, her eyes dark and coated with love as she focuses on him. She kisses him, two soft brushes of lips, before pushing away from him and reaching for the forgotten mugs on the table.

"Your coffee is getting cold." He smiles. Because of her. She smiles in return before grasping the mug and lifting it. Her ribs choose that moment to lick fire up into her shoulder and she winces as she hands him the mug of coffee. Her hand flutters to her side as she grabs her own mug and brings it to her lips, her eyes finding Castle's again. She pauses mid sip at the look of concern on his face. Shit, she needs to tell him. Tell him everything.