Castle was losing too much blood. He knew it now, body emerging into a tub of water, the remaining life in his veins icing each part of him. Both eyelids fluttered, troubled to stay fully open, to stay conscious as much as he wanted to. Recovering, he was still recovering. Trapper John's rouse had sent his heart right into overdrive, blood pressure going up, the tourniquet bleeding completely violet with every pounding beat.

Theorizing probably didn't help either, but it had to be done. He'd goaded Beckett into it, stubborn enough to keep going despite her vocalizing concerns over his worsening condition.

"Let's just think on it for a second," he insisted.

"You have to stop–"

"I'm already there, Beckett, let's just–let me be useful for a bit until I'm not."

A demand lived in his voice, along with an idea she couldn't entertain right now. Until I'm not, he said. Until he's what? Dead? Fuck that.

In a last attempt at hitting the case, he hastened the flow of his thoughts as he winded down, going on to elaborate for Beckett that these men were more than robbers. They had to be, maybe some kind of professionals in some type of killing or torture, on account of what had just happened. All of it, all of this mess was more than what the morning had started as. More than what they thought to be another robbery.

"They're wearing gloves…but clearly they're not afraid to leave prints behind. He's left some in my blood already," he said gesturing to his arm. She took a moment to process, but he noted her struggle to, mind only partly focused on his words while the other part invested all its energy over the blood still seeping out.

Refusing to talk until she responded, he threw her waiting eyes, rounded out with anticipation for her line, for her contribution. After so many seconds in silence, she gave in with a sigh, sloppy as she sought for words with his wound still in her sight. "Fine. Who…hires professional…whatever they are…to rob a bank, and still commit the biggest rookie mistakes in the book? They haven't even touched the money in the safe."

"It's the box. It's gotta be. They came prepared for it – only it's not theirs. If it was, this would've been done already."

"But why? Why all of this? Why go through the trouble of a hold up?"

He sat on the question too, but nothing came quick enough. As much as he wanted to think on it, everything grew hazy before him, a veil draping over his eyes, his thoughts. So he uttered what he could, musing all he could. "Time…time, maybe…"

"Time," she sought to clarify. "Time to what?"

"It took them time…they needed time to find the box…time that we're running out of now." His voice started drifting. Hard swallows between turns, he breathed deeper to fight it off. No, he couldn't go yet.

"Stop talking, Castle," she hissed his name through her teeth. But though commanding, she was unable to remove the crack of supplication sounding in it. "This is the one opportunity you have to save yourself by shutting up, and you won't take it."

A smirk, a smirk appeared just briefly before he spoke. "And here I thought you knew me well enough to know I can't do that."

Was that a joke? Or a jab? He didn't wear a smile, but maybe that was on account of his dropping BP. Unsure she pursed her lips, and took the opportunity to turn back into harsher waters, into the rapids, a surge of courage pulling her along.

"I don't know that you're the Castle I know. The Richard Castle that I know doesn't dwell in bars all night, ignoring his family for a week. He doesn't slump and drink himself–"

"Okay, now you stop. Stop-stop-stop-stop-stop-stop-stop." Breathy, his voice started to rasp, unable to commit a fuller force in his words. "I went to the bar, yes, I did. However I did not…drink, not there. I probably played the worst bartender ever at The Old Haunt. I spent evenings talking to strangers…asking advice."

"Asking advice?" she said with a quirked brow.

"Yeah, you go to bartenders for advice, but you don't…give it to them. That goes against all codes of the craft–"

Rambles, he was rambling, and it smacked a grin onto her lips knowing it was better than his cut speech to her before. Yet even so, just like his usual rambles, she sought out for the point, and her look towards him communicated it well.

"And…moving on to the part you actually care about," he rushed off her gaze. Eyes closed, he tried to refocus himself as the ache in his arm continued to amplify. This was what he was waiting for – and he would not let the lights go out a moment before. So tempering his breath, he made each intake efficient by lowering his voice, preserving as much energy he could while speaking. "I asked…every person I served what they would do in my situation. I said, 'what would you do if the one you loved screwed up?' I kept it general, not giving away any specifics. And you know what? Every single one asked me a variation of, 'well, how much do you love them?' I couldn't answer. I couldn't because I knew that if I did, I would answer my own question. Thinking about it now, how many people I bothered with this, I probably lost a lot of clientele within the last week."

There was a laugh somewhere in her, but nervousness drowned it out and overwhelmed her limbs, vibrating with the knowledge of what would come next. She didn't dare respond. She couldn't bring herself to. Not yet, at least.

"Every night, I got the same reply. But it wasn't what I wanted, so I kept searching for the answer, for the one that would allow me to walk away. Love isn't enough. I repeated that out loud to convince myself, but is it? Is it enough to compensate, to atone for wrongs?"

A ragged breath followed after hearing his words. Raw, all over she was raw. A winding pain twisted in her limbs as she mustered up a reply, the words flying out through sandpaper. "Did you get your answer?"

Taking a moment, the face he wore confirmed her fears, but once the pause died he spoke to break her heart with kindness. "I did. The second you put the welfare of Alexis above yourself, telling me to remember her first. It made me remember everything else too. Who you are, what you stand for, what you've done. All the things about you I've taken to accept and protect. None of it absolves you. I'm still angry because you're a woman of truth, and you negated that with this lie." She bowed her head at the thought, clenching her teeth in wait for the bomb. "But I refuse to throw away four years of our partnership for one wrong in the last few moments we might have together."

Oh.

"Cas-Castle I…" she stifled her words, suffocating in everything he said. The tears flowed, knowing that even before she could explain herself he was right there. He was right there ready to accept her again. Part of her wanted him to be more angry, but gratitude filled her to the brim with an awe for his forgiveness. All the pent up heat he'd sealed inside of him, it deflated now. Too weak to be angry, too tired to ignore her, too deathly to give up on them, in his own silence he did what he knew best.

He loved her.

In this moment, acceptance settled over that she was the only thing he wanted to see going out. In four years this woman, if that be the right word to capture everything she was, rewrote his story. Completely. She rewrote it with a simple question of his name. And then…she became everything.

She was every day, every morning, every night…every word he wrote, every thought, every revelation, new breath. She was every taste of success, every sound of joy, touch of fire, scent of good, of the truth. She was the light shone over him for four years, four years, and now, he would close his eyes in that light…maybe in the last thing he'd ever see.

She ripped up his shirt again seeing dripping blood, tying a second piece around to apply more pressure to the arm in an attempt to combat his draining strength. He watched her work, a mix of sweat and tears polishing both cheeks as she fixed up his wound again. Her fingers trembled against it in his blood, staining every tip.

"Come on Castle, you gotta stay awake," she said rubbing his shoulder. The fight in him continued to diminish, body lax, but the worst for him was seeing what it did to her. She roughed against her tie, under her constrain, reddening her wrists while still to tending to him. This seemed punishment enough.

Because even if she couldn't say it, she loved him too.

"Hey-hey," she started again when his blues disappeared. The intervals started getting longer under his lids. "You can't go yet, o-kay? We made a promise to your mom, remember, we're gonna stay together." Now was not the time for shyness, for shame. After a moment of indecision, she folded her hands into and over his, holding them against his chest to maintain the pressure. Relief pried opened her heart when his face didn't change at her touch.

"You'll watch them right?" he mumbled under his exhaustion. She squeezed his hands to waken him, pumping them in pulses.

"Watch who," she half asked, eyeing his arm with stronger attention.

"Alexis…and my mother…" he breathed out. The thought hooked to her heart, yanking it down inside her chest.

"Stop," she said. Voice stern, her eyes disagreed, curved with the gentleness of grief and lined with new tears in the bottom lids. She started to bleed out now too.

"I'm serious," he pressed, voice just slightly more full.

"So am I," she finished with a swallow. "I am not gonna watch them, because that's your job, and that's what you're gonna do when we get out of here."

"And if we don't? If I….don't…from the start this hasn't been good for us."

She broke her gaze, bowing, shedding away her sorrow before meeting him again. Her lips shifted around, determined to silence and mend the cracks in her voice. "We're off our game," she muttered. "But we're still fighting, alright? I don't give up, you don't either."

A pause came and passed, his strain to collect himself and remain coherent more obvious with the changing time. A drooping head kicked her panic up.

"No-no, hey," she urged, taking a hand to pat his face. "You're not doin' this, okay?"

He squeezed her hand, fully threading his fingers between hers to stop her from going on. "I love you," he croaked.

The words hit her like the bullet. Just like the sniper's bullet nearly a year ago. Everything came back, but not in the same horror. Her memory and eyes compared both his faces…his pained, vibrant face before, hovering over her with a fear she'd never thought to see from him. It contrasted his pallor face now, hollowing blue eyes filled with the same tears, but a look of contentment painted across.

"Don't Rick, please not like this," she said. She didn't want him to say it. No. Because if he said those words, those few words for a second time, that meant he believed he wouldn't get to say them again. The moment hung, his blues unsteady under collapsing eyelids, and yet he still reigned her with them.

"But you need to hear it, again…I still feel it…Because you're more…you're more to me than a lie. A terrible lie, awful," he added with a torn smile. She broke one too, uneasily as her tears picked up. "Terrible…but still. I've lost a lot…a lot of…blood. So…just…in case…"

He held on for her, assuring his words with the glimmer in his eyes. A smile faded on his lips, but before he could go, her head flew down to meet them, locking hers in with every bit of energy left in her. Hands gripped to his neck, she pulled him closer, but his mouth had already gone limp. She let go and sat back to look on him, one hand supporting his head, the other still holding up his arms.

"I'm sorry, Castle," she managed between broken sobs. A finger pressed against his neck searching for a pulse, and it was there, but declining. She couldn't contain it anymore. So she let herself bleed out too. "I'm so sorry."

Everything else had died out –

but he still heard her.

In and out, in and out, in and out of consciousness. His body put up more of a fight than he realized, with his control completely void, but the systems marching on, keeping everything but the vital organs idle. Snippets of conversation flew through his ears, sound through weakened walls – sometimes muffled, sometimes not. When he could, he'd concentrate on finding Beckett, finding Kate, finding her voice through what he could get. Alarm didn't resonate within until she started screaming for him.

"Castle! No, I'm not–I'm not leaving him–let–Castle–Rick!"

"Party's over sweetheart," he heard Trapper John growl.

What was happening? What were they doing with her?

Struggle. Silence. Scream. Silence. His senses were at war with his pain, mostly unconscious as the rest of the events unfolded but putting up a fight to come back.

Movement. Pain. Screams.

Boom.

Not enough time to process everything, he got bits and pieces of what happened. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn't dead. He was out, but a beat still thrived in him. Darkness sat on his face for some time, but someone returned to him, someones, hands folding around him to move him to…maybe a gurney?

"Dad!" A shriek. Oh god, Alexis. The last thing he wanted was for her to see him like this.

Wait. Beckett.

"What the hell happened to him," another voice whipped out. Espo. It was…Espo.

Did she survive?

There it was. Cherries. "You checked out the box, right?" Beckett…Kate. All their voices shook, an urgency rushing their words…he could only catch so much.

Agnes…Murder…Ron.

Stepson.

Sal.

All of it tumbled together, but just before he could really fall under, he felt the push and lift beneath him, slamming and rolling onto something else, making out Beckett's voice one more time…a hurried but pleading whisper spilling close to his ears.

"Castle hold on, okay? I promise you I will come back, okay, I'm not going anywhere. Just hold on, please, hold on."

The aroma of cherries spilled over his face, accompanied by a press of her lips against his forehead. Had anyone been around? The thought didn't process all the way.

He was under again.

The sound of his heart rate had never been more relieving and annoying at the same time. Alive, yes, he was alive, but also awake to the pain still throbbing in his arm. He was confident even before opening his eyes that this was post surgery, but he peeked just to check. Beside him the sun poured in, setting or rising he couldn't be sure, but the glow looked fresh…new.

Taking his clean arm, he swept his fingers over his chin to judge the stubble. Two days minimum. He wondered what that meant for his release, but the moment his eyes met the other side of the room, a lightness overtook inside as he dragged out an exhale.

There she was, still dressed in the medic clothes, hair still tied up, knocked out on the couch. She'd curled up on one side, facing in with a jacket that resembled Alexis's hanging over her legs. Should he call her over? Do they pick up where he dropped out? No, now was not the time. Not yet. Part of that decision came with Alexis and Martha entering the room with breakfast, nearly dropping everything when they saw him awake.

No words escaped them initially, silently exploding with thanks as they darted over to embrace him. Wary of his arm, his daughter wrapped both of hers around his neck as his mother reached over for his hand, and planted a kiss on his temple. All of them still aware of sleeping Beckett, they kept their voices low.

"Next time don't bet so hard on a guy's bluff dad, okay? Especially one with a gun," Alexis said. Half a smile rested on her lips, unimpressed by her father's actions, but too grateful to nestle in the serious. He was here. Safe.

"You got it, pumpkin," he started. The dryness surprised him, irritating his throat into a couple coughs, but he cleared it up as he sought for more answers. "The case, do you know–?"

"They caught him, I believe that's what she said," Martha gestured to the couch. "I don't know the exact details, but…you, how do you feel dear?"

"Relieved. In pain, but relieved. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see your faces."

Smiles all around, they all leaned in together, embracing with the weight of waiting off their hearts. After a few moments, Alexis let go and motioned toward Beckett, but he stopped her midway and shook his head.

"You don't want to–?" She trailed off, mindful of everything that transpired prior to the robbery, half understanding if he didn't want it…that right now.

"Let her sleep," he said waving Alexis to come back. "She hasn't gone home at all?"

Both girls nodded. "She came as soon as the case finished, even while you were still in surgery," Martha started.

"She took up the night shift," Alexis added. "Wanted to make sure someone was always watching you. Just in case you woke up, or something."

Of course she did, he thought to himself.

She didn't wake for hours, even with the conversations, nurses coming and going to check on him. She turned over a couple times, but she didn't break her sleep till dusk, about the time he'd sent his two ginger heads home. If she were to wake, and they were still there, he didn't want to lose the opportunity of finally cleaning this mess up. But just before leaving, his mother left behind some words.

"She saved us, Richard. I hope you'll take that into account before you both go at it."

He just nodded. Duly noted, mother.

About a half hour afterward, Beckett stirred on the couch. Turning outwards, Alexis's jacket slid off her and onto the floor, her eyes peeling open to meet his blues already watching from the bed. Even in the lowlight, they emanated the sea within so brightly, it pierced through the shadows to greet her. With exhaustion still looking over both, their expressions were washed out, no clear sense of what the other felt on display. But he saw the burst in her as she stood up, nearing him in a slow shuffle. She motioned to go closer, but took a step back, restricting herself to the foot of the bed.

He had to be the one to draw the line. "So you're scared to come near me, but kissing that's just what, open season on my lips?" he offered with a light chuckle. Letting it process a few seconds, she broke out and rushed toward him, taking his head to her chest and wrapping her arms snug around his neck.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she breathed out. Her touch settled him in a way he didn't understand, but he held onto it, keeping her close with his arm curling over hers. But it lasted only for so long before he spoke up, setting her down onto the bed to sit.

"What happened?"

He caught a glimpse of ease in her eyes, realizing he went back to the case. "Sal Martino happened. Or Ron Brandt. He runs a company that deals with weaponry that supplies special forces. That's where lovely Trapper John came from." She went to explain the aftermath – the bomb, how they got out, what happened to the robbers.

"Guess I know what business I'm never gonna dabble in," he tried. A smile tugged up briefly on her face, but it disappeared soon after. There's more.

"Ron had a wife named Tanya, and a son–"

"–Connor," he finished. She just nodded. "Connor–are they okay, what do you mean had–"

"Divorced. Problems with domestic abuse, and Tanya and her son faked their death to get away. The box, the safety deposit was literally a safe box to protect them. It helped them secretly keep contact with Agnes, her mother, the one who got murdered for the key. They had a secret messenger working it and everything."

But there's more, she's letting on more.That tone, it's that tone he recognized far too well. "You're holding your tongue, what else happened?"

Uncomfortable. She fidgeted too much, looking down too much. There was some failure here. Her lips thinned, brows furrowed as she gathered her words. "Uhm…we got him. We figured it out, but Ron managed to get to Tanya. She's banged up pretty bad, staying in intensive care. Connor's fine, but everyone's worried on what could happen to him if she doesn't pull through. There's not a lot of choices lined up."

Shit."We we're off our game," he said. Each shared a heavy look at the premise, her brows drawn together in frustration and his lips pulled tight in remorse. If they had played smarter, thought clearer…maybe…"It's no excuse."

"It doesn't help to think what could've been either. Better or worse."

Both knew it was coming again, that it was inevitable, only it proved easier to talk about this than…that.

But with the same wants in mind, they knew they had to.

"Why?" he asked after a couple minutes in silence. Watching her head drop, rising back up with breaths forced out of her mouth he prepared for the worst – every inhale and exhale shaky as she collected her thoughts.

A scoff escaped her first as she looked away, out the window for the rising moon. "It's funny. Of all the memories, all of my past – it's that minute, that single minute that I remember so vividly. Every breath, every beat, every…scream of that chaos. I know it." Returning her eyes to him, her greens glimmered, flooding as she thought on all of it. "It lives with me, in me, I still see and feel everything, but the…the one thing I hold onto is what you said to me. Your face, the hurt in your eyes as you–"

They were falling now, without reserve her soul bled out as she fought to continue. "When I came back in the game…I wasn't sure what to do. All of it just…I suffocated being thrown back in, and I needed…time. Space. When I left the city, I thought it was the right thing to do, to get away. But I left behind an important thing. You."

She took his hand and folded it into both of hers, smiling with clear difficulty to keep powering through. He deserved to know. "Every day you were with me, your voice telling me it over and over again. Each time I wrestled with the idea, making excuses for it, but eventually I gave in. I accepted that it actually happened. So I ended things with Josh, and I wanted to call you but…"

"But?" he asked, the earnest beaming out his eyes.

"I got scared," she shrugged, her voice dipping out before she could finish the word. Still, he heard it. "I started thinking…Wow, okay, he loves me. Can I give that back to him? Is he even sure of it? Was this a knee-jerk reaction to me nearly dying?"

"Kate–"

"Please, Rick" she said squeezing his hand. "Just…listen, for now." His face looked unsettled, but he nodded off for her to continue. "I didn't know how to deal, how to deal with that along with everything else going on. And then when we met up again, I wanted to step forward. I did. But there was such fear in telling you that I remembered. I didn't want you to think, 'no, we can't go there' because I couldn't…say it back to you. Not because I don't want to, or that it's an offense on your part. The fact that it is you makes all of this more difficult.

"You've scaled my walls. You've fought to break them down, to climb 'em. And I've been working at them myself, trying to understand them more in my therapy–"

"–you're in therapy?" he cut in. She managed a curt nod.

"I…yeah. Just, for everything. I'm trying, still trying to get where I wanna be with all that's happened with me, feeling safe, not shutting out…everything, or everyone – you. If I jump too fast here, that might happen, and I don't–I won't let that happen, especially between us. So, until the bricks fully come down I can't–I can't give what you're asking. I guarantee you will fall off and get hurt–I'm not capable yet of–"

"Okay, I've heard–enough, I think," he said lifting his hand to stop her. Shaking his head, a faint smile spread his lips in amazement. "I told you I loved you. That I love you. I told you not because I expected it back, and not because I wanted you to reciprocate anything, I told you I love you because I do. I told you because in the moment I thought I would lose you, the one thing I wanted you to know was that. Not in a knee-jerk reaction, not for a claim I wanted returned to me.

"A year ago, you echoed Montgomery at the funeral. You said, 'we are bound by our choices, but we are more than our mistakes.' I'm bound by mine, and it's you, Kate. It's been you, all this time. I've waited, even without you asking me to, and I will continue to if you ask, but how exactly will I know? How am I supposed to know what to do if we never breathe a word on it?"

She shook her head, a wry smile formed as she forced out the rest. "I guess…I'm always afraid of losing you. Like everyone else." His head tilted at the thought, shooting her an incredulous look.

"Why is it that you think you can get rid of me so easily?"

Her chest softened, breathing easier once she let go of her hold over it, laughing a bit with him for the first time in what seemed like months. "I don't know," she muttered under her grin. "I thought I was pretty close two days ago."

"Close, not quite though." The tension washed away, gradual with the tides pulling it back to sea, but even with everything said and done, she needed to do it again. She wanted to.

"I'm sorry, Castle," she said, carrying her hand to trace her thumb along the side of his face. "For everything."

Before she pulled it away, he held her wrist, pulling it down before pressing her shoulder also, asking – no, telling her to lay with him. She didn't resist. After the hell they'd just been through, she couldn't think to leave him. She belonged here.

"I understand, if you need me to wait. If you're still healing up," he said as she curled into him. "I want you better, I want you to feel good about where you are and who you are, if you aren't already. Until then, I have nowhere else to go really, no one else to annoy – I have a short list, and you're basically at the top."

She laughed into his chest, embracing him just a little tighter. Safe. This was safe. "So no luck in getting rid of you, huh?"

He played a gasp, her smile growing more before he spoke again. "I knew it. You are trying to be rid of me." With a hum into him in reply, the outline of her lips spread across and distinct through his dressing. "Hey," he said, calling for her gaze. She looked up, a rush flowing through her when she met him. "You are more than just capable of loving someone, you know that right?"

"I'm…yes, I know." There's you, for starters. "I'm almost there."

"Well, when you are, I'll be there too."

Neither of them could see it yet, but they already loved each other, so much more than they claimed to know. It wasn't in words, in the exchange of I love you's. It sat in the stares when the other was asleep, or looking away. It ignited the safe warmth they kept between them. It dwelled in the bond of their partnership they forged over four years.

But this, together just like this – it was enough for now.

A/N: SO yes, I didn't have them necessarily get together because realistically I don't know how timely that is? I started out writing this with the intention of it being able to fit in the timeline somehow (this could honestly have been done after limey/headhunters as an extension of "after" 47 seconds but silly me I didn't do that ._.) so I'm sure some readers might've wanted them to get together? If that's the case I'm happy to write an alternate ending, but only upon substantial request. To me, Always is just the right timing for them, unless it's really AU. Aside from that, I enjoyed discovering this story and I hope, truly hoped you enjoyed reading. Thank you for all the kind words in reviews, and for even taking a chance and READING IT AT ALL. BLESS. It's very much appreciated. ^_^ And again, if you didn't like it –

My bad. Maybe ask someone else to do one? #whoops. :)