I know him. He's an immature, egotistical, self-centered jackass sometimes, but he's not this.

He's tugging her over to the couch before she can even get her coat off; she almost breaks her ankle tripping over her own feet as she wrestles her shoes off, sighing at him.

"Sorry," he sits, yanks her down on top of him, his arms a vice around her waist. "Just need this."

She sinks back against him, pushing him into the back of the couch and turning, curling up around the tangent of his body. "How are you?"

"Much better now." He grins, kisses her open mouth, the tension draining out of him so easily when she slides her tongue against his.

She pulls back, her hand coming up to cup his cheek like it did in the library, only now she can use her grip to bring him in to her, kiss him again. "You sure?"

She ghosts her mouth up to his temple, brushes her lips to the split-open place where his forehead hit the dashboard of her car. Her cheek still throbs, the skin split all along her cheekbone. His thumb brushes over the gash, his eyes soft on hers. "You okay? Sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"It's not that bad. Just stings." She nestles further into his lap, her hand fisted in his shirt. She can't stop touching him, reassuring herself that he's here.

He cards a hand through her hair, gentling her, cupping the back of her head and guiding her to rest against him. "Oh. I had something to show you."

He's lifting her off of his lap before she can even protest and then he's getting up and going to his study and no-

No. She can't-

She follows, hooking her fingers into his pants pocket and holding on, her socked feet slipping on the hardwood. He half-turns to look at her, his eyes creased with wear at the corners. "Hey. I'm okay, you know. Not going to disappear on you."

"I know." She nudges at him, nods toward his study. "What are you showing me?"

He still isn't entirely sure that showing her is a good idea. He really loves the picture, but the circumstances-

But the way she holds it, the look in her eyes when they meet his, it negates his doubt. "I'm so conflicted, Kate. Ryan saw it at the scene and grabbed it before Gates could see, gave it to me. And Tyson took it, and that's so not okay, but then it's so-"

He trails off, because there are no words for the picture of them outside his building, his arm around her waist and her hand at his neck. Even from across the street, you can see how happy she is, how she just glows with it.

"Wow. You look so happy."

He startles at that. He hadn't even been looking at himself, so enraptured by her. "I wasn't looking at me."

She laughs at that, comes to him, the photograph caught between their bodies. "I hate that he was watching us, but it's such a beautiful picture. What are you going to do with it?"

"Keep it in the drawer and then get it out in twenty years and show it to you and we'll laugh about the time I got arrested and had to break out of prison." He beams, caught up in her.

She smiles back, tugging his shirt free from his pants so she can slide her hand to his side, their skins kissing. "Okay. In the meantime, you want to go reaffirm our life?"

And oh, he loves her for that. Our life. Because they're sharing a life now. But he-

"I don't know that I can." He's still amazed at how his hands dwarf her waist, how he can circumnavigate her.

Her brow furrows, her eyes liquid, lashes a siren song. "What are you talking about?"

"He said-" he chokes, shakes his head. He hates that he's letting the words of a psychopath taint this beautiful thing between them but he doesn't know how to move past it.

"Hey. It's okay. Tell me." She brushes a thumb over his bottom lip, pushes her love into his skin. And it is love, he knows now, because this is the second time she's promised to break him out of prison.

He swallows, pushes everything back, battles to not let it show in his eyes. "He said he watched us make love. And I want it to just be us. The thought of him watching, the sick pleasure he must have gotten from that- I don't want to share you with anyone, but especially- not him. Not him."

"Hey. I doubt that he watched us." His eyes close and she locks her hands behind his neck, tug him to look at her. "But even if he did, he wasn't here. He didn't get to share how it feels when you kiss me. He didn't get to be humbled when you touch me like I'm this precious thing. He can't take that away."

He kisses her then, so in awe. "Oh Kate. You are so beautiful."

She flushes, the line of her neck defiant even as her head dips. "Come take a bath. No windows in there."

He's tracing patterns onto her abdomen with his fingertips, the naked plane of his chest at her back. She wants to see him, but she wants this more. How he surrounds her.

"Do you really think it's done?"

She rolls her head to the side, presses her open mouth to the curve of his shoulder, tastes water and love. "I don't know. But I can't live as if it's not."

"What if he starts killing someplace else?" She can feel him trembling; she doesn't think he's stopped since he fired a round into Tyson.

She laces their fingers together on her stomach, thumb caressing his wrist. "Then we give the police in Wyoming or LA or Chicago everything that we have, and then we let it go."

"Kate-"

"Even if Tyson's not done, we are. I can't do that again Castle. I can't lose you." She turns to straddle his thighs, her fingers sliding through his hair. "I can't."

"Okay. It's done."

She grins, kisses him. "Good. You looked like a little boy, Castle. I can't see you like that again."

His hips are suddenly insistent under hers, his fingers tracing her collarbones. "I'm all man, Kate."

"Show me."