A/N: If you recognize it, it's still not mine.

A/N: I'll admit, I've never done this before. Usually if I say something is a oneshot, mark it as complete, it's complete no matter what. But...so many of you had such wonderful responses and really wanted me to continue, that I have decided to continue. I want to especially thank anonymous reviewer "reader," who may not even be reading this next chapter, for his or her incredibly thoughtful and helpful comments about my characterization of Beckett. I hope this chapter shows improvement.

Thanks to Melissa for betaing, as always. Special thanks to geekygreek for pointing out a blatant (and rather embarrassing) canonical error.

"Mr. Castle?"

She looks up to find Dr. Blake standing in front of them again. The young surgeon has his scrub cap in his hands, twisting the fabric nervously.. She immediately notices this sign of distress, and wonders if he's seen it too. She tells herself the hospital wouldn't have sent a mere intern to deliver bad news and she squeezes his hand bracingly.

Dr. Blake manages a grim smile. "The surgery on your daughter is over. The hole in her lung was fixed, and there were no further complications. She's still not awake, but-"

"When can I see her?"

"Unfortunately, not right now," the surgeon responds. He looks at his watch. "She's in the surgical ICU and there are no visitors allowed at this hour."

"But-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Castle. I suggest that you go home and get some rest. Come back tomorrow morning."

She glances sideways at him, trying to gauge if he plans on fighting to see Alexis or relenting and waiting until morning. When he's been quiet for almost half a minute, she takes it as his concession.

"Thank you," she answers for him. "What time does the ICU open?"

"Eight," Dr. Blake says. "If you'll excuse me…"

"She'll be okay, though, right?"

The surgeon turns back. "Mr. Castle, your daughter is in the best hands. There is nothing more you can do."

"But – it's just that – if she wakes up, I don't want her to be alone or scared."

Dr. Blake smiles understandingly. "If she does wake up before tomorrow morning, I'll make sure she knows you're on your way." His pager sounds and he glances down and removes the beeper from his belt. "I'm sorry, I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

His gaze is fixed on the surgeon as he retreats. "Castle," she says quietly when the surgeon has turned the corner. He looks at her. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

"I can't go back. It would be too…"

He can't finish his sentence, but she knows what he would have said. Too lonely, too quiet, too strange. She knows he can't go back to his apartment alone tonight. She glances around them; the only other person seems to be the nurse sitting at the desk halfway down the hall. She wonders if this nurse will be the first person Alexis sees when she regains consciousness.

"Damn," he mutters, snapping her attention back to him. "I didn't ask."

"Didn't ask?"

"Dr. Blake. About my mother."

"Oh." She gestures toward the nurse. "We could ask her if she knows anything."

He shakes his head. "I don't want to bother anyone."

She takes his hand because she knows what he's not saying. "You're not bothering anyone," she assures him gently. "You've been here for hours, and there have been no updates. We'll just ask if she knows anything, and then we'll leave her alone." She squeezes his hand to silently add, and whatever she says, it'll be okay.

"Okay," he agrees, releasing her hand as he stands. She follows him over to the nurse's station. She sees that the nurse is older, perhaps in her late-fifties. The nurse looks up as they approach.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes," he says. "I was wondering if you had any information on my mother, Martha Rodgers? She came in with my daughter Alexis hours ago."

"Martha Rodgers?" the nurse repeats. "Let me see." She turns her attention to the computer. "Yes," she says after a minute, "it looks like she had a neuro consult and then Dr. Adelson took her to surgery."

"The neurosurgeon?" he clarifies.

"Yes," she says. "It says here your mother suffered a serious stroke." She glances at her watch. "The surgery started two hours ago and is expected to take several more hours to repair all the injuries. It would probably be best if you left and came back. There won't be any new information tonight."

"I see," he says. "Well, thank you for your help."

"You're welcome." The nurse turns back to her work, but he doesn't move.

"Come on, Castle," she says quietly, when she realizes he's just standing there. "We should go." She takes his arm and leads him away.

"It would have been over by now," he says as they return to their chairs.

"What?"

"The opera," he replies. He sinks back into his seat. "It would have been over an hour ago. They would have been back home by now."

She gently lays a hand on his arm. "Don't."

He nods once, but whispers, "I can't stop."

She sighs, because she knows exactly how he feels and what's more, she knows there is very little she can actually do about this situation to make it better. It strikes her as odd that she is so good at talking to victims' families, and yet cannot manage to come up with anything meaningful to say to him. But then, she knows why that is, because talking to victims' families is scripted, emotionless; you're sorry, you're investigating, you're doing everything you can.

It's then that she realizes she's not doing everything she can.

"Come on," she says bracingly. "Let's get out of here. Not far – we don't have to go back to your apartment. But maybe we could find a diner or café that's still open, or something"

She watches his expression as he considers this idea. Finally he says, "Yeah, okay."

"Okay," she repeats. She scoops up his jacket from the chair and hands it to him. He stands and puts on the jacket wordlessly.

They exit the hospital and she realizes she has no idea where they should go. He looks at her expectantly, so she scans the lit signs, looking for a place that would serve food at this hour. Luckily she spots a 24-hour diner at the end of the block, which she points out to him.

"That looks promising," he agrees.

They walk down the empty street in silence. She waits for him to speak, not wanting to be too forward, but he either doesn't feel like speaking or isn't sure how to begin, because he doesn't say anything. There's only one occupied table when they enter the diner, where two people – hospital employees, judging from their scrubs – are sharing dessert.

"Sit wherever you like!" the waitress calls energetically from behind the counter. "I'll be right with you."

They select one of the booths in the back and slide into the seats. The waitress comes over a few moments later with some menus. She finds the huge smile and upbeat demeanor of the waitress a bit disconcerting, a jarring contrast to the somber mood of the last few hours.

"Are you hungry?" she asks as the waitress walks away.

He shakes his head.

She thinks about urging him to eat, but decides against it. She knows he doesn't want to be forced into anything. She wonders if she should order something for him, just in case the sight or smell of food makes him hungry, or if she should order something large that he might want to share. Before she can decide, the waitress returns.

"What can I get you?" she asks in her high-pitched, overly-happy tone.

"Two coffees," she replies, glancing at him. "And…" She's about to order food, but she can read in his expression that he doesn't want more than coffee. "That's it. Just two coffees."

The waitress scribbles this down, flashes a smile, and leaves.

"You should eat, if you're hungry," he says quietly.

"So should you."

He sits back. "I'm not."

She suspects he is, but concedes, "Okay." She's saved from answering further by the arrival of their coffees. She watches as he stirs in cream and sugar, wondering what, if anything, she should say. Could say. He finishes with the spoon and sets it down, but still doesn't touch the drink.

"It's good," she says, tasting it. He raises his eyebrows, so she amends, "For 24-hour diner coffee."

This manages to get a chuckle from him and he takes a sip. "Could be worse."

"That's the spirit." She takes another drink, lowering the cup slowly as she studies him. He looks exhausted, mentally and physically, but she knows he won't sleep, can't sleep until his family is in the clear.

"Kate?"

She looks up from her coffee. "Castle?"

"Thanks."

He doesn't elaborate, but he doesn't need to. She reaches across the table and takes his hand.

"You're welcome."

A/N: Okay, no promises on how many more chapters there will be or when they will be coming. I've toyed with the idea of three chapters, five, even four...we'll see. Most likely it won't be left here, but I'm not ruling out that possibility either. While my muse ponders all of this, please review and tell me your thoughts.