Later that evening, when Beckett was several chapters into Storm Rising, Castle took a break from writing to make some late dinner and say goodnight to Alexis. Beckett was surprised when the smell of food cooking didn't turn her stomach. That had to be a good sign. All the same, she appreciated that Castle did her the courtesy of eating in the kitchen. She set the book on the table, rubbing her eyes and yawning. It was amazing how little light it took to make her head hurt.

"How are you feeling?" Castle asked as he put the dishes in the sink.

"Okay," she said. "Still have a headache."

"Well... you haven't eaten anything all day. Obviously," said Castle. "Do you feel up to eating anything yet?"

Beckett briefly entertained the idea. She knew she was probably dangerously devoid of nutrients, and that was more than likely the source of the headache. Still, when she thought about actually eating food, it made her cringe. Nope. Not yet. "Not really," she told him. "I think I could keep down tea now though." God, I hope I'm right.

"I'll make you some," said Castle, opening the cabinets. "What kind would you like? We have black tea, earl grey, peppermint, herbal spice, ginger..."

"Ginger," said Beckett, remembering someone had once mentioned it being good for nausea, which certainly seemed like a desirable property that day.

"You got it," said Castle, and he filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove.

Beckett leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes, drinking in the warmth of her surroundings, and trying to decide what she should do. It was late. Little Castle and Hurricane Martha were in bed, and Big Castle was surely about to follow. He had changed into pajamas at some point. Beckett felt like she had probably overstayed her welcome a long time ago. What she should do, she reasoned, was ask him to call her a cab, and she would go back to her hotel and try to sleep off the pounding headache, and hope she didn't throw up again in the middle of the night. I probably won't, she thought. These things rarely last that long...

But what she wanted to do... it would be so easy to just curl up on this couch she'd been sitting or lying on most of the day anyway, and stay the night there. She knew where the bathroom was, and the loft was warm – not just because of the heater, but the colors on the wall and the people inside the house. They gave it a different kind of warmth, one she wasn't going to find at the hotel no matter how high she turned up the heater. No, she wouldn't be warm like that at the hotel room. She sighed, weighing her options – privacy and perhaps a shred of dignity (if it wasn't completely gone already), or the warmth and comfort of Castle's loft... which would also mean she wouldn't have to walk out in the cold, ride in elevators, take a cab... she ran a hand through her tangled hair, feeling torn and anxious.

Before she could decide anything, Castle came back with her tea, as well as a plate of crackers. "If you're up for it," he said, nodding towards the plate and setting it down.

Beckett took a drink of the tea, feeling warmed from the inside out. It felt good, which was encouraging. She looked doubtfully at the crackers, debating whether she should risk it. "What the hell," she decided, picking up a cracker and taking a tiny bite of it. So far so good, she thought as she swallowed, then took another drink of tea. Castle was watching her, just as anxious to see how it would go as she was.

"I think I'm okay," she reported.

"I didn't ask," said Castle.

"Well, you were not asking very loudly."

Castle smiled, and said nothing more while Beckett agonizingly nibbled through the cracker, one molecule at a time. It must have been almost entertaining to watch, she imagined.

"Beckett?" Castle asked sheepishly, hands in his pockets and shoulders shrugged up. Beckett looked up at him, stifling a smile as the image of him as a young child admitting to stealing candy popped up in her mind. She met his eyes, waiting for him to ask whatever it was he wanted to ask.

"You can stay here, you know," he said. "It's late. Probably freezing," he added, nodding to the raindrops on the windows. "I'd hate for you to have to take a cab home at this hour when you're sick."

You said it, not me, Beckett thought. Still, she didn't want to seem too eager. "I told you, I don't have a fever," she said. "The weather's not going to make any difference." While this was true, she would still much rather stay here, warm, than go out there and make her way home in the cold. She just didn't want Castle to see that.

"I know," he said, sitting down on the couch next to her. "But you'd still be much more comfortable staying here than going out there. And my bed is a king size."

Beckett froze. That hadn't been what she'd meant at all. That was way too far out of her comfort zone. He'd been very sweet to her all day, but he had gone far enough. "No way," she said. "No. I can't sleep with you."

"Not sleep with me, sleep with me," said Castle, sounding like an apologetic high school boy. Beckett was sure she'd heard at least one hormone-driven boy tell her that in the back of a car before. "Just... sleep," Castle went on. "I'll stay on my side. I won't bother you. Promise." He held his hands up to show his supposed innocence.

Beckett sighed. Could he possibly be telling the truth? Was he really looking out for her, or did he just want an excuse to get closer – too close – to her?

"Come on, Kate," he said. "You know you don't want to go out there."

"Oh, that's it," she said definitively, deciding his motivations couldn't possibly be pure. She stood up, intending to walk out and brave the cold that very moment. It didn't quite work out that way, since she was still undernourished and lightheaded, and she found herself sitting down again quite suddenly. She took a deep breath, waited for the dizziness to pass, and drank some more tea.

"Can I ask you something?" Castle asked when she set the cup down.

"What, Castle?" she asked irritably. Under any other circumstance, she would have successfully walked out, maintained her independence, and gotten out of there. She was frustrated by the incapacitation, and his apparent ulterior motives only made her feel more degraded.

"Why the stone wall?" he asked. "I know you trust me... at least to a reasonable extent," he added when she looked at him in utter disbelief. "I've never tried to take advantage of you, and I know full well if I did, you could – and probably would – shoot me. So what are you trying to protect yourself from?"

Beckett bought time by trying to eat another cracker. "I just don't want to overstay my welcome," she said, intentionally avoiding addressing his assertion that he wasn't trying to take advantage of her.

"You and I both know that isn't true," said Castle. "You're scared. I just want to know why."

God damnit, is he ever wrong? Beckett wondered. Then she wondered what, exactly, it was that she was scared of. She couldn't deny that she was scared, but... "I'm not scared of anything," she said, sounding much more defensive than she had intended.

Castle looked at her piercingly. She knew he didn't buy it.

"Can we not do this right now?" she asked, resting her hand in her hand. Arguing with him was doing nothing good for her headache.

Castle raised his hands again. "You can leave if you want, Detective," he said. "I'm not stopping you. I'm just saying – Tempur-Pedic mattress, down comforter, 800 thread-count sheets... I can make you coffee in the morning." He smiled that smile that had that uncanny way of stripping her defenses. Beckett imagined the scenario – falling asleep in the warm, soft bed, waking up feeling like a million bucks compared to today, drinking coffee and heading back to work... it was a nice fantasy. She wondered if it had any chance at playing out. She certainly hoped she would feel better in the morning. She was beyond frustrated at being so sick she was unable to function. One day was more than enough.

"Fine," she conceded. "But if you tell anyone, especially at the precinct, I will make good on that promise to shoot you." She had to say something to maintain the illusion of control.

"Good choice," said Castle. "Can I interest you in something more comfortable to sleep in? A tee shirt? Some sweat pants, perhaps?"

"Um... yeah," said Beckett, realizing as she pushed back the blanket that she'd been in her work clothes all day. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Do you want to take a shower or anything?" Castle asked.

"I'll take a shower in the morning," said Beckett. "Maybe after I go back to my hotel for a change of clothes before work."

"You think you'll be ready to go back to work tomorrow?"

"I hope so," said Beckett, bracing herself on the arms of the couch as she stood up. "I was right in the middle of the case... which reminds me, I never got around to asking you if Lanie had found anything..."

"She did," said Castle, his face lighting up. "I guess I just forgot to tell you, what with you feeling all miserable and everything."

"Well?" Beckett prompted, eager to think about work and not about the present.

"As of when I left, she was still pretty sure the cause of death was the blunt force trauma to the head, but she still needed to do some more tests. There were metal fragments in her skull, which she sent to forensics – per my suggestion – and those fragments were not in the abdominal wounds... her killer seems to have added those after he killed her. Time of death was between five and six A.M. She also ID'd her as Penny Albright, and found a next of kin. Montgomery made the call."

Beckett had to admit, she was impressed. She had sent Castle to see Lanie over twelve hours ago, and he'd surely been thinking of all sorts of other things since then. "Thanks, Castle," she said. She remembered deciding to call him earlier that day when she had been trying to choose an outfit when all she wanted to do was vomit. She had been right to ask for his help – not that he needed to see it like that. "I wish I had my murder board here," she added, trying to organize the information in her head.

"I'll still remember it in the morning," said Castle. "And if I know you, you'll remember it too."

He was right about that much.

"Come on, Kate, let's go to bed," he said. He stood next to her and put his hand on the small of her back, leading her towards the stairs.

Beckett felt her stomach drop, this time from adrenaline. Oh God, I'm really doing this, she thought. What am I getting myself into? She tried to count how many times he'd called her "Kate" that day, and couldn't put a number on it. Moreover, she'd caught herself doing the same thing. It's nothing, she told herself. I'm just sleeping here because it's comfortable and I don't feel like taking a cab back to my hotel. That's all. All the same, she couldn't help but feel comforted by Castle's hand on her back.

Castle seemed to sense this, because he asked her, "When's the last time you let someone take care of you when you were sick?"

Beckett didn't remember. Probably high school. She was usually very healthy, so there weren't many opportunities for such a thing, anyway. Even if there had been, it had been a long time since she'd let anyone get that close to her. Why him? "I don't know," she said eventually.

"Well, that's no good," said Castle, turning them to his bedroom. "All the more reason you did the right thing coming here today."

Is it? Beckett sat on the edge of the bed, unsure what to do next. "I guess so," she said.

Castle pulled some flannel pajama pants and a tee shirt out of his dresser and handed them to her. "I don't know how well they'll fit, but they should be fine for sleeping in."

"Right," said Beckett, looking around for a place to change. "Is there a bathroom up here?"

"You can change in here," said Castle.

Beckett glared at him, surprised at his audacity.

"I'll leave, I'll leave, sheesh, no need to panic!" he said.

Beckett sighed in relief as he left the room and closed the door behind him. She changed into the pajamas and climbed into bed, then told him he could come back in. He turned out the lights, then crawled into bed next to her. Beckett felt another surge of adrenaline. Yep, I'm really doing this. Oh man. It's just a place to sleep. Nothing more. She breathed deeply, waiting for her heart to listen to her head.

"Beckett?" said Castle.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, hoping he couldn't hear her heart beating, or see it through her chest, for that matter.

"Good," said Castle. "You let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Yeah," said Beckett stiffly. She turned her attention to his bed. It was every bit as luxurious as he had described.

Castle leaned over head and tucked the blankets in around her. "Castle!" she exclaimed, intending to tell him off, but stopping short when she felt his warmth.

"Goodnight, Beckett," he said. He brushed her hair out of her face and gave her a hug.

His sudden closeness brought back a memory she had been trying to put a finger on for the last five minutes, and she felt tears spring into her eyes against her will.

"What's wrong?" Castle asked her, pulling back. "Did I do something wrong?"

Beckett shook her head. On the contrary, she wished he was still holding her. She didn't have a clue how to tell him that without explaining herself. In what felt like a moment of temporary insanity, she rationalized that he had already seen her pretty close to her worst. What difference would it make at this point?

"You asked me when the last time was that someone took care of me like this." She bit her lip, realizing it was too late to change her mind. "I couldn't remember until now, but..."

Castle nodded, and put his hands firmly on her shoulders again, yet kept some distance between them.

"It was my mom," Beckett said, tearing off the band-aid. "I think I was about fifteen the last time I was sick like this. She did... everything you did today – she took me home from school, made me tea, made sure I drank enough water... cleaned up after me." She paused, her heart beating rapidly. She was nervous to admit the obvious. "I miss her."

Castle took a moment before responding. "I know no one can ever replace your mother," he said slowly. "And you'll probably always miss her. And when you're this sick, I don't think you're ever too old to need comfort like that. I hope I did an alright job of standing in."

Beckett sniffed. "You did fine. And you're right, Castle. I do need it."

"Your secret's safe with me," said Castle, squeezing her once more before moving to his side of the bed, as promised.

She smiled, relieved that he was following through with his promise, even if she did secretely wish to share his warmth. "Goodnight," she said, closing her eyes and letting sleep overtake her.

. . .

She dreamed that they were tracking down a violent, unpredictable, gun-slinging suspect, and they had just arrived at the scene. The man was coming down the stairwell, firearm in hand, and as she stepped out of the car, she realized how sick she still was. Trying to muscle through it, she unholstered her own gun and followed him. Castle was close behind her, and to her dismay, he wasn't wearing his Kevlar.

She faltered for a moment as her stomach churned and her breath caught. In the split second of hesitation, Castle had run ahead of her, and the suspect took his shot. Castle hit the pavement and began to bleed out, and as much as she wanted to run to him, she was paralyzed with sickness and couldn't move.

As the killer was about to turn on her, she woke up with a start, sitting up abruptly. Her immediate instinct was to reach for her phone and call to make sure Castle was alright, but then she remembered she was at his house – in his bed, no less. She turned to her right and saw that he was awake and looking concerned. She meant to apologize for waking him up, but it came out, "Thank God you're okay!"

"Yeah, just fine," he said, his look of concern turning to one of bewilderment. "What's the matter, Kate?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "It was just a dream."

Castle didn't look convinced. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Mmhmm," she said. She felt much better than she had all day, although she was incredibly thirsty. She swung her legs around and started to get out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Castle asked.

"Just to get a glass of water," she said.

"No, no, I'll get it for you," said Castle, getting up. "Lie down."

"Oh." Beckett stopped, then shifted back under the blankets. "Thanks."

He came back a minute later with a glass of water, which Beckett took and sipped slowly. She breathed a sigh of relief when it made her feel better and not worse.

"What was the dream about?" Castle asked as she drank the water.

She sighed. She was hoping he wouldn't ask. "It's not important," she said, snuggling back into bed.

"It sounded pretty important," Castle countered.

"I—I can't," she said. It was too personal, and she didn't want him to make too much of it. Or perhaps she was making too little of it.

"Beckett?" he looked at her with the sincerest concern. In spite of the dark, she could tell, even though all she could see was his bright blue eyes.

She looked down, playing with her hands. "You got killed," she said, feeling both terrified and relieved at saying it out loud.

"Oh," said Castle. He clearly hadn't been expecting that. "Well. It was just a dream. I'm fine."

"Yeah," said Beckett quietly.

"How are you feeling?" Castle asked, changing the subject.

"Better," she said. She was still tired and had traces of the headache, but her stomach had finally settled. She took another drink of water, grateful to be able to do so without worrying about it.

"That's good," said Castle. Neither of them seemed to know what else to say. They sat there in the dark, avoiding each other's eyes, but putting off going back to sleep for reasons neither of them could explain. After several minutes, without words, they lay down to go back to sleep, but they lay closer. Castle put his arm around Beckett, and she didn't fight it. His bed was luxurious and comfortable, but his warmth was sublime.