What he wouldn't give to be back in his real life, where he can step into her embrace and have everything be okay. Where he can kiss his daughters, both of them, on the head and tell them he is proud to be their dad. Where he can play with his boys. Where they're a family.

As soon as he makes it through the door, he makes it to the couch, unable to make it any further. He closes his eyes. "Please let everything be okay," he whispers, not sure if he is referring to Kate in this universe, or to his own situation.

Maybe a bit of both.

His pillow is warm, familiar… and moving? Rick peels his eyes open and blinks.

First rays of sunlight are peaking through the window and illuminate the room. He looks around without moving too much; sees the shells they hung years ago, some painting their kids did for them, a family portrait.

I'm back, he thinks with glee. Even more so when he realizes his moving pillow is Kate.

"I'm back," he repeats out loud, squeezing her tighter to him. The motion makes her stir, and she whines.

"Rick," Kate complains without opening her eyes. "Go back to sleep." She shifts slightly, and he thinks she may have fallen asleep again when she stays silent afterwards.

He chuckles. It's usually her who is the morning person – or, given their professions, the one who has no choice but to be. She's usually the one who's out of bed long before he begins to wake. Not today, apparently. But he's so grateful too be back, so happy to have her back in his arms, he really doesn't want to close his eyes right now, could spend the rest of the morning just watching her.

He really doesn't want to open them and find he's on the once familiar couch again, the one they threw out ages ago.

A glance at the clock tells him it's barely 6:30 a.m. Perfect time for breakfast, he decides. Carefully, he detangles their bodies, trying to leave her in peace for now. He can wake her up again when he presents her with breakfast in bed.

Castle swings his legs over the edge of the bed and heads to the kitchen. Or at least he plans to. But coming back also has its downsides, he notices, as his stiff body refuses to move exactly the way he wants it to.

Aging twenty years overnight was a factor he hasn't considered. Neither did he remember the accident and the bruises still painting his skin shades of blue, purple, and green. He was upset about not being in his universe, about being ripped away from his life, but he wouldn't have been too upset about missing the road to recovery.

With a soft moan, he limps through the loft, slower than usual. Definitely slower than the young version of him that ran from the precinct all the way to his loft.

He doesn't want his life from back then, god no. His body, however, is a different story.

The coffee machine hums to life. He finds some fruit and cuts it up, arranging it so that it forms that adorable smiling face that always makes her grin. If she wants pancakes, he'll come back to make them. But for now, he places the plate and their coffees on a tray and carefully carries it back to the bedroom.

The smell of coffee, the promise of caffeine, is what wakes her before he even enters.

She watches as he balances the tray and places it on the bedside table. He straightens up, eyes meeting hers.

"You're up," he remarks.

"And you shouldn't be," she scolds, but it doesn't sound threatening, her voice still too husky from sleep.

"Why wouldn't I be," he returns cheerily.

"Rest," she reminds him.

"Maybe I was too excited for rest."

Kate pats the empty spot next to her. "Come on. Get back into bed."

He grins cheekily. "If you insist."

She sits up, leans her torso against the headrest. "You seem happy this morning."

"I am happy," he confirms while he crawls back into bed, closer to her than necessary on the spacious mattress. He sneaks a quick kiss from her, before he reaches to the side and hands her the coffee mug.

She hums in content, inhaling the scent. "So," she starts, seemingly innocent. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugs, and at least that doesn't hurt as much as he remembers from the few minutes he was awake at the hospital. Still not pleasant or easy. "Been better. Also been worse."

Kate huffs. "How is your head?" she inquires, still looking down at her mug. Her casual tone sounds too cheery, the pitch too high, too fake and unlike her actual voice. He can tell she must be getting at something, but unfortunately, he has no idea what that could be.

"Fine, I think," he replies, tentatively stroking his fingers over his forehead, his temples, through his hair. It all seems fine. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Her response is nothing but a few muttered sounds.

"Kate," he says and waits for her to look at him. "I might be awake, but I'm too tired for this. And after what I went through, I'm definitely too tired for this."

She looks puzzled. "What you went through? Your accident, you mean?" she questions carefully, and there it is again, all signs that imply that she is hinting at something completely different.

Rick opens his mouth to explain, and then it occurs that he has no believable explanation. Not one that Kate would accept. He just shakes his head.

"Then what?" she pushes.

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me," Kate challenges.

He chuckles. "I'm gonna sound crazy."

"Oh, so just like you normally do?" She sticks her tongue out, a move he's sure she copied from their kids.

"Very mature," but when she just looks at him, waiting for his explanation, he gives in. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." And then he launches into telling the tale they both know so well. Only it's different this time. Because it's the past, and it's not quite like theirs. Because he talks about people who are like them, but who aren't quite the same.

He's surprised when she doesn't interrupt, doesn't laugh at the ridiculousness of alternate universes, doesn't suggest that pain meds made him hallucinate. Only when Rick reconstructs how he left her, how he was unable to save her from herself once more, does she speak up, talking, comforting, reassuring him until the renewed guilt begins to vanish.

When he is finished, she surges forward, locking their lips. Not the reaction he expected at all. "You're back," Kate whispers when they break apart.

Rick quirks an eyebrow. "That's it?" he questions. "No sarcastic comment?"

She chews on her lip, contemplates what to say. "You've been… different." His brow furrows. "These past few days. And – you said we'd had a fight. A fight exactly like the one you just described."

He's trying to wrap his mind around it. But maybe his suspicions are right, maybe someone else took his place. A Richard Castle from years ago. Seeking the answers he already found.

"You're saying I had memory lapses?" he tries to prompt, knowing it isn't the truth and yet aware that Kate would never openly admit to even the possibility of an alternate universe.

"I'm not sure," she murmurs, and he's shocked.

"Kate," his tone exaggerated while he dramatically clutches his heart. "Are you willing to concede to the possibility of supernatural workings?" She rolls her eyes. There it is.

"Just saying, you were acting strange," she defends herself. "And crazy you from yesterday and crazy you from today seem to have their stories straight."

"So, maybe the alternate universe story isn't so crazy after all?" Rick teases and she frowns.

"Whatever it was," she finally replies with a gentle smile, "I'm so glad you're okay now."

He kisses her cheek again, and thinks about how lucky he is. How fortunate they are to have what they have. How much it sucked to be away from it for even just a few days, to be reminded of the pain of the past.

He hopes they're okay, that to whatever universe he traveled to, Kate is okay. That they'll find their way to each other.

"I hope they make it," he says quietly.

"Me too," she agrees, voice so low it's barely audible, and he's not sure she even meant to say it out loud.

It was absolute hell.

It was heaven and hell, all at the same time, and he couldn't have imagined that heaven would be so painful or that he'd feel so light walking through hell.

But even the worst experiences, the most painful, become bearable when he's with her.

The voice in his head screamed at him, practically ordered him to keep her away from her mother's case from now on. She was the one who said she'd step away, to let the case rest, to get closure later or come to accept that she'd never have it.

All he needed to do was to remain quiet, keep his mouth shut, keep the secret locked away in his desk.

But more secrets were only going to hurt them, damage them again, shatter their fragile relationship into so many pieces he was sure wouldn't be mended ever again. He couldn't sit on clues – perhaps even keys – without letting her know.

When they woke the next morning, side by side, everything felt peaceful, right, and he hated to pull her out of her relaxed state, much like he'd done with the other Kate. But there was no way around it.

"About your mom's case…"

She didn't let him finish the sentence. "I told you, I'm done," she promised and looked him straight in the eye, showing him she was serious.

"You can't be," he protested and watched her tense up almost immediately.

"No, Castle, I meant it. I won't let this get between me and my happiness again."

He almost teared up, because this was everything he longed for her to say ever since he saw how far down she buried herself in that rabbit hole. But he couldn't let her stick with that decision until she heard him out.

"I found some clues...," he started explaining, but she interrupted again.

"Castle," she almost snapped. "Isn't this what you wanted? This isn't good for me."

It wasn't, it definitely wasn't. But she deserved closure, and if he could help her find it, he had to tell her what he discovered.

Maybe without mentioning the alternate universe.

She might have said that she wanted him, but she could change her mind once he presented himself as a complete lunatic. That was a story for another time.

"Please, hear me out," he insisted, and to his surprise, she stopped her protest. "Someone dropped some notes off. They're just scribbles, but I believe they might lead to your mother's killer."

Her brow furrowed. "Who dropped them off?"

"Didn't see who. They just appeared." It was technically true.

"You know those notes - if they contain any hints at all - could have been left by someone who wants to lead us to a dead end. Or to a nice secluded place where they can get rid of me once and for all," she warned, but he could see curiosity and determination flare up in her eyes before she had a chance to hide it.

She didn't refuse when he offered to show them to her.

It wasn't the gentle, comfortable beginning of a relationship that both of them had envisioned. It was tense and exhausting.

But they worked as a team, and whenever the crease in her forehead became too deep, he managed to make a comment that made it fade. He replaced her frown with a smile. He finally got to experience a Kate that didn't hide away when she was worried or scared, but one that shared her secrets with him, let him wrap his arms around her and pull him close.

Nights spent crying, screaming… He witnessed her suffering first hand, unabridged this time. But he was there for her. Always there to hold her tight, to dry her tears, to soothe her after a nightmare.

Castle couldn't wait for the day this was all over, when they finally caught the bastard responsible for Kate's pain.

Being with her was heaven. But seeing her suffer, dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes, red-rimmed from crying once again, being scared every day that another bullet was going to find its way to her heart again... it was hell.

They started the process of deciphering the notes, of placing them in the context they had and beginning to make sense of their meaning. He thanked the other Castle in his head. Without the clues, their investigations might have taken months, years even.

Just two weeks later and they'd found most of the people involved and connected to the case, and finally, finally uncovered who wanted to hide his past so badly he went over bodies.

But they couldn't prove it.

Not even the file they retrieved was enough evidence. Just enough to keep Kate alive. Bracken was right in front of their noses, but slightly out of reach. So close, yet not close enough.

It was maddening, drove him insane.

And it made him fall even more in love with Kate.

Her strength throughout all of this was beyong amazing. She never relented, never backed down. And while he growled and complained about not just being able to arrest Bracken, she smiled. "Don't worry, we'll get him," she assured him with certainty in her voice.

It was the elephants were the most difficult to figure out. Other Castle hadn't been kind enough to leave a more specific explanation beside the word. Instead, he underlined it three times, circled it, so much of his attention on this one single piece of information. The seemingly most important clue, according to a man much wiser than them, and he had failed to mention what elephants he was referring to.

The puzzle piece that didn't fit.

Three months later, Castle was ready to leave the precinct after a case, while she stayed behind doing paperwork. He rose from his chair and walked around the desk, legs stiff from the hours he'd spent seated that day.

It was what threw him off balance, sent him knocking against her desk on his way out. He could see the little group of animal figurines tumbling in slow motion, Kate's grab too slow to stop the fall.

They smashed on the ground.

He dropped to his knees immediately, never ending apologies leaving his lips, assessed the damage and looked for larger pieces of the porcelain that he could glue back together. He found a tape instead.

Suddenly, it all fell into place.

Everything after happened too fast for him to comprehend. What he did understand was that Kate – for the first time in years – was able to breathe freely. To return home knowing why her mother was murdered, and that the person responsible was going to be brought to justice. The weight onher shoulder wasn't gone, but she let some of it go.

They left hell behind.

"Who gave you those notes, Rick?" Kate whispered to him one night right before he drifted to sleep.

"Told you I never saw," he mumbled and she huffed.

"But I know you have at least some idea as to who it was," she remarked. "I don't think I could have done it without those notes."

"Definitely would have," he slurred. "You're the best detective there is."

Kate chuckled. "Well, whoever it was... I know I couldn't have done it without you."

He grinned, thinking of the other Castle writing down details of the case and leaving them in his office for them to find. "Probably true," he chuckled.

"One day you'll tell me," she said.

He does two years later.

He tells her everything he saw in the other world, everything he knows about their future in another universe.

Kate laughs and rolls her eyes at him, just like he thought. But the smile when he mentions their children is void of ridicule or sarcasm. The tales of them - whether they come from his imagination or not - serve as promise of their shared future.

Castle watches it bloom. Every moment of pain, of struggle, every fight has been worth it. They made it.

This is their story, and he is here for it.

A/N: Wow, what a wild ride. THANK YOU to everyone who has read, favorited, commented, or reviewed this story. It means more than I can say. Thanks as well for everybody's patience, while I've been struggling (and failing) to squeeze writing into my schedule. I hope you enjoyed this story, despite the occasional mess.