It rains.

Her plants shiver as the drops fall onto their wide leaves, rolling down the green into the soil already stained dark and black. The panes of glass behind her shake with every rumble of thunder, the velvet of the sky brightening with each fork of lightning. The downpour makes the soles of her bare feet slick and sends them slipping over the edge of the wrought iron.

She pulls them back to safety.

(She had already almost fallen from a great height today and once was more than enough.)

Just inside the narrow glass door, her phone vibrates, skittering across the worn concrete until hitting a book and falling silent. She dismisses the missed call, figuring it Ryan checking to make sure she made it home okay and promises herself to respond tomorrow.

Across the intersection, she watches another bolt of lightning fan over the sky, the following boom echoing off glass and chrome and metal on it's way through the city streets. A dog barks, challenging the storm itself until it, too, settles into a wary silence.

The intercom to the apartment buzzes, cutting off abruptly and she rolls her eyes. Mr. dePaul keeps forgetting his keys and ends up buzzing every single apartment in the building hoping someone will let him in but Kate doesn't move. Some other tenant can be the savior tonight.

She can't bring herself to care. Not now.

He got away. She was stupid and reckless and almost lost her life chasing this ghost and she wishes she could call the one person who predicted it and confess everything.

Castle made it clear that he couldn't watch her drive herself into the ground and she wasn't about to ruin his graduation celebration with his daughter to tell him he was right.

The knock at her door startled her, loud enough to reach her on the patio.

With a last look over her city, she ducks back inside. Careful to steer clear of her books, she steps down to the kitchen, wet footprints appearing slowly in her walk to the front door.

Her breath catches as she opens the door, fingers slippery and shaking on the knob.

"Castle," she whispers, her voice still rough from earlier. "What do you want?"

Because he gave up on her. Tired of watching herself run headlong into danger over and over and-

"You."

He steps into the foyer, gently frames her face with hands wet from the storm, and kisses her. Soft and tender and so reverent that she could cry. She drops back to her heels, his thumb smoothing the curve of her cheek and his forehead touching hers as if desperate for some continued connection.

"What changed?" she asks, quiet as she looks up at him, his eyes sad and his whole body heavy over her.

Castle walks forward until her back hits the frame of the french doors, reaching behind him to close the front door with a click. "Ryan told me that you nearly died, Kate. And I know I said I couldn't stand by as you did this to yourself but, god, I tried not to care about you once and it didn't work. I love you and I can't just leave."

She reaches up, curling her fingers around his wrists and pressing her body against his. "Then don't," she sighs into the corner of his mouth. "Stay. Please."

He chokes around her name, relief and desperation and heartache poured into the single syllable, and when he kisses her this time, it isn't gentle. It's heat and barely contained passion and Kate moans, buckling under the weight of everything he finally lets loose. "Yes," he breathes into her skin.

His fingers tangle with hers, pulling her around the kitchen island. She pauses, looking past his shoulder at the rain hitting the windows above her couch and letting the love wash away the pain of the battleground in her living room.

"You okay? Kate, if you're not ready… If this isn't something you want, then…"

She spins, a sob caught at the bottom of her throat. "No." Hurt flashes over his face, thinking her response means she's not prepared to love him. "I want you, Castle," she breathes, angling back toward her bedroom to see his reflection in the wide mirror on the wall.

Their first time, she thought, would be frantic. A trail of clothes like bread crumbs to where she finally gave in to Richard Castle.

Instead, he crowds her to her bed, laying her down into the rumpled sheets and leaning one knee to the side of her hip. He ducks down, his nose brushing over her cheek as his hand coasts over her arm, tracing her fingertips so softly that her hand shakes.

"Castle," she murmurs. "I…"

He steals her words, kissing her as he pushes her t-shirt, still wet from her time in her garden. "Up," he mumbles, arching her back with the press of his palm to her back and skimming the shirt up and over her head.

She feels his gaze lingering and doesn't need to look down to know what he's staring at. The touch of his mouth over the knot of her scar makes her whimper, her body suddenly a live wire, fraying where he touches.

"I'm here," Kate reassures, drawing his eyes up to meet hers. "Promise."

They undress one another, slowly and exploratory, cocooned in her soft sheets and the white-noise rain on her windows.

"You're soaked," she laughs, fighting to get his jeans past his knees before he settles over her, his elbows trapping her arms at her sides.

He grins and she feels her heart leap at the unrestrained joy in the expression. "Hmmmm." He traces a path down her stomach and over her navel. "Isn't that my line?" he muses when her hips jolt up into his as his fingers graze her.

"Cheap line," she gasps. "Expected better from you."

When he hitches her leg up over his hip and slides into her, Kate kisses the muscle at his neck, turning her mouth up so he can hear her.

"I love you, Castle," her voice rough with arousal and affection. "I'm…" she stutters, his hips driving hard into hers with her confession. "I'm so in love with you."

His hand cups the back of her neck, angling her so he can kiss her, pouring every ounce of emotion into the movement. "Oh, thank god," he moans, burying his face into her shoulder.

She breaks with a quiet cry, trembling and trusting him to hold her until he can pick up her pieces and press her back together even as he groans against her cheek with his own release.

Castle gathers her close, leaning down to snag one of her blankets. "I love you so much," he repeats. "It should scare me but you bring peace."

Kate chokes, reaching up to dash away tears as they appear in the corners of her eyes. "Me too. I'm so sorry it took me so long."

"No. No," he protests, touching his mouth to her cheek. "We got here. That's all that matters."

Sleep comes easily, wrapped up in his arms and her blankets and their love.

She wakes slowly, her body warm and heavy under the duvet. The coffee machine in the kitchen must have kicked on, the timer set for just after six so her first cup of coffee waits as she gets up for work because she can smell the dark roast Castle gave her for Christmas brewing. She sits up, muscles protesting after her fight and last night, and swings her legs out of the cozy nest.

"Fancy coffee maker you have, Beckett," Castle comments, walking into the room with two full mugs in his hands. "But, of course, figured nothing less from you since you'd mainline the stuff if medically possible."

Not a dream, she reminds herself, taking one of the cups from him as he settles by her feet. He's here. Here and making her coffee and smiling at her through the steam rising from his mug like she's his world.

The quiet that falls over the bedroom doesn't make her nervous like it usually does. The hum from the fridge and the sound of her neighbor's shower turning on simply provide a soundtrack to what feels so very normal already, the sharing of coffee in bed in the early morning light.

He leans over, taking her almost-empty mug and setting it next to his on the bedside table. "Ryan told me that you and Espo got suspended for three months," he says, careful to watch her face as he speaks. Afraid to spook her. "Want to spend them with me?"

She grins, lightened by the absence of her badge and gun and the need to be doing something with her mother's case; she has something far more important to focus on now. "You asking me out on a date?" she teases, curling forward to settle on his lap.

"Yeah," he answers, squeezing her thighs with hands still warm from the coffee. "Come to the Hamptons with me. Or we can stay in the city. I don't care, Kate, as long as it's with you."

The kiss tastes like coffee and lingering rainwater and hope. "Sure, Castle. I'd love to."