Redamancy:

(n.) the act of loving in return

She gave him her body. She gave him her body and her words and her heart. She gave him all her rain-soaked skin could allow and now, with the early morning light filtering in through the blinds, so clear and pure after the storm. Now she can give him everything he gives her.

She stretches her hand out in front of her, twists her wrist and watches the slide of the sunlight across her skin. Doesn't even realise he's awake until he's catching her wrist, circling it with his fingers, bringing it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the thrumming pulse just underneath the paper thin surface.

He grins against her; nips gently at her heartbeat where it makes itself known, jumps in the cobalt of her veins. She pulls her hand back slowly, doesn't even give herself time to feel guilt for his crestfallen expression before she's cupping his cheek in her palm, guiding his mouth to where it fits so perfectly against hers.

She kisses him languidly for a while, stops to bat his hand away as it snakes lower and lower on her back. She laughs, nudges at his nose with hers. "Not yet. Give me a little time to recover."

He grins, positions his hands on the smooth plane between her shoulder blades and kisses her again. His fingers ghost around on her back, finding the places he didn't get a chance to map last night, making them his.

She's his. She his, and he doesn't quite believe it, can't stop touching her just to make sure. He's allowed to. He's allowed to touch her now. He's allowed to traverse the slopes and planes of her perfect skin, soaking up everything that makes her who she is, collecting it in the whorls of his fingertips.

He smiles as her skin contracts, slides his hands down her back, squeezes gently at her sides. She hisses through her teeth, a low keening. Her shoulders rise.

He immediately drops his hands, pulls her to sit up with him. Now that he's looking, now that he has cleared the lust and the love from his gaze, he can see it. Her whole body, her whole body, is mottled shades of red and blue and green and yellow, pain written into every line of it.

He closes his eyes for a second, tries to stop trembling. Reaches out to brush the backs of his fingers down her ribs where she's blue, where she's broken.

"Kate-" he chokes, voice a shattered thing in his throat. "Kate, did I-"

He knew he was being rough, knew he was crushing her, but she kept asking for more, kept repeating his name like a prayer against his lips, begging for salvation. And he just couldn't stop.

She lunges forwards, crushes her lips against his, wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into her, moans in pain even as she catches his lip between her teeth. He pushes her away, can't focus through his sudden and nauseating need to find who did this and put a bullet between his eyes.

She pants, looks up at him through her lashes, eyes dark with desire. "No. Not you. Never you."

He brushes his thumb under her eye, along her cheekbone, tucks her hair behind her ear. "Then who?" His words threading out into the infinitesimal space between them.

She closes her eyes, leans forward, forehead finding his clavicle. "The guy who shot me. I was compromised and I let him get the drop on us."

He tries to block out the feel of her bare skin against his, the way her hair brushes against his pectorals. She hadn't told him anything last night, nothing more than I just want you, and he'd needed nothing more than that. But now, he has to know. Has to know what she went through that carried her to him.

She kisses the skin next to her mouth once and then she carries on, lips brushing his flesh. "I chased him up on to the roof and I was going to get him. I was. But instead, he got me. I tried to fight, I really did."

He pushes her away from him, clings to her shoulders. Takes a second to delight in the way the curve of them fits so neatly into his palms. He has to see her eyes, know that she's okay, she's with him.

The momentum throws her hair behind her shoulders, positions her right in the light cutting ribbons through the darkness and his heart stops in his chest, just like that. He feels his sternum falter, feels the desperate confusion of his lungs at the lack of movement.

There are two long, narrow bruises at her larynx. Four, longer still, against each side of her neck. He choked her?

Oh God. Oh, Kate.

She kisses him again, her lips light and soft against his. "It's okay, Rick. I'm okay."

He hears it now, hears how each syllable costs her, how it hurts her. Hears how dry and tired and pained her voice sounds. He kisses her forehead, feathers his mouth down to her temple. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

She tilts her chin up, kisses the line of his jaw. "It's okay. I needed it to be Ryan that pulled me up."

He pulls back again, meets her eyes. He knows he looks panicked, can feel how wide his eyes are, the furrow between his eyes. "Pulled you up? What?"

She bites her lip to hide a laugh. "I fell off the roof."

She fell off the-

Not funny. Not funny, Kate.

He opens his mouth, closes it again, finds words eventually. "You fell off the roof. Kate-"

She grows sombre, takes his hand and rests it over her heart, the heel of his palm over the scar again. You can look, she whispered to him against the door, and he did. He did, and it hurt, but it helped. And it helps now.

"Yeah. He pushed me and I fell. And I heard you. I heard you calling my name, telling me to hold on. So I did. And then you pulled me up, only it wasn't you. It was Ryan."

He rests his forehead against hers, can feel that vein that sticks out when she's very serious about something. He's always wanted to reach out, soothe it away with a line of kisses and so he does.

"It scared me. Not the almost dying. Just. That you weren't there. You've been there for four years now."

He smiles at that, remembers his words in her apartment and how right they sound coming from her.

He kisses her again and again and again, doesn't think he can ever get enough. "Tell me the rest of the story. Why were you wet?"

"I sat on our swings in the rain. Thinking." Our swings. Wow. He remembers that day so well, the elation at seeing her alive and vibrant and teasing coupled with the sharp agony of her betrayal. Why didn't she just call?

He dips his head, kisses her bullet wound again. Rests there for a moment, just letting the heady relief pour over him.

He pulls back again, not far, just enough to meet her eyes. "Before that, then? What happened between the roof and the swings?"

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a second. He's transfixed by her eyelashes, how the light makes them cast shadows over her cheeks. But then her eyes are open and holding his with an intensity that leaves him momentarily breathless.

"Gates took us back to the precinct. Told Espo and I that we had to go on administrative leave, effective immediately."

Crap. "Kate." He breathes her name, reaches for her. She pulls away, not done yet.

"And I just. I- I'm done. I just can't do it anymore. So I resigned."

She-

He can't. She's dealing him blow after blow, socking him in the gut again and again with how much he's missed in such a short space of time.

"You- You resigned?"

She shrugs. "The roof put everything in perspective. I felt like I had to choose between my job and you and-"

She cuts herself off, shrugs, but he knows what she's saying. He won. He won against her job. Wow.

"Do you regret it?" He's tentative, doesn't want to upset her. It had killed him last night, to watch the tears track down her cheeks. He doesn't ever want her to cry about him.

She smiles softly. "No. Not really. I just feel- lighter?"

He moves around, props a pillow against the headboard and shifts so she can sit in the vee of his legs. She leans back against his chest and he rests his chin on her shoulder, kisses her neck as gently as he can, careful of her bruises.

"If you want to go back, I'm sure Gates would let you."

She tries to turn to face him, winces as it twists the tender places of her neck and shoulders. "I don't know if I want to. I was thinking I'd just take the summer; see how I feel in the fall."

He smiles. He's so inexplicably proud of her, for seeing how badly she needs a break. For being strong enough to do this. "Okay. That sounds good."

She leans further into him and he tightens his arms around her waist. "Castle?"

He kisses the skin of her shoulder. "Hmm?"

"What happens to us if I don't go back? Would you- would you find another detective to follow?"

He laughs. God help him, he laughs, the thought so ludicrous he can't stop it from bursting out of him. "You're kidding right? I have enough material to write fifty Nikki Heat books. I don't need to come to the precinct, Kate. I just want to."

He hopes that made sense. It's difficult to find words through the press of her body against him.

She's silent, and he does what he always does. Fills the gap. "I have no reason to be there if you're not. Take the summer, take forever. Retrain, do something else. I just have one request."

She strokes his fingers, lines hers up along his and he takes it as permission.

"Let me be there for it, whatever you decide to do."

She nods; he sees the corner of her smile. He nudges at her, gently. She sighs and he thinks he sees her roll her eyes, tries to force himself to touch her like he yearns to despite her injuries.

"Are you done?" His smile belies the harshness of his tone. He didn't mean to sound that way, but the lingering pain of the last few weeks still taints his words even now. "Any more surprises to reveal?"

She turns in his arms, straddles his thighs as he stretches them out beneath her. Grins and kisses him again. "Just one."

He pulls back, raises his eyebrow and waits.

"I love you."