Esposito pauses in front of the Ryan's front door and forces himself to take a deep breath. He's got this. Just a few more days and the hard part will be over. He rolls his shoulders, trying to settle the weight of all that he can't say.

Jenny throws the door open before he's even finished knocking, her hair back in a sloppy ponytail, her eyes red-rimmed. "Javi," she whispers, and envelopes him in a careful hug, like she's afraid she'll break him. "I just can't believe it."

"I know," Espo mutters around an accidental mouthful of her hair. He awkwardly hugs her back and tries to ignore the guilt. "It's…unbelievable." Completely fucking unbelievable, but it's the only chance they've got.

Jenny pulls back and runs her hands under her eyes. Squares her shoulders, like she's determined to be strong. "Kevin's on the couch," she says, ushering him through the entranceway and into the den.

Ryan's propped up, his arm in a sling, watching the news. On the screen a solemn reporter goes over the story again while footage from the carnage on the runway runs behind her.

"There are more developments in the shocking story that broke last night. In a turn of events more like his novels than real life, mystery writer Richard Castle -who was shot and killed during an operation with the NYPD two months ago - has apparently returned from the dead."

The video switches to a grainy shot of Castle hunched over Beckett on the runway. He's screaming as the members of the SWAT team converge on them. A great shot, violent and shocking, and unmistakably Castle, even with the terrible picture quality.

"Going on an anonymous tip, members of the press were present at the joint FBI/NYPD raid of a private airfield in upstate New York. We do not yet know the reason for Richard Castle's involvement, only that he was alive and present, and that his long-time muse and partner, Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD - who was a suspect in the execution-style murder of another NYPD officer and Senator William Bracken two days ago - was gunned down during the shoot-out between the police and group of people whose motives are currently unknown."

Espo silently drops to the couch beside Ryan, his fury a lead weight in his gut. What a fuck up. If only he could see Beckett, assure her that he didn't know. He'd have insisted it was too fucking risky, would never have put them in that kind of danger. Not that it would have done any good. NYPD had been working with the Feds for weeks, this raid was probably set in motion the moment they grabbed Castle from the warehouse fire. FBI, Turk. Both sides were using them, Beckett and Castle caught like pawns in between.

The reporter continues, looking like she almost can't believe her own material. The story is a 24 hour-news-cycle's wet dream - love, revenge, conspiracy - and it's everywhere, spreading online and across social media too fast to be contained.

"Inside sources suggest that the accusations against Detective Beckett are untrue, and astonishingly, may actually be related to both the supposed death of Richard Castle, and the long-unsolved murder of Detective Beckett's mother, Johanna Beckett. The discovery that Richard Castle is alive has prompted an investigation revealing not only widespread corruption throughout the NYPD, with numerous officers being charged in the last twenty four hours, but also that Senator Bracken's death is not what it seemed, and that he may have been involved in the death of Johanna Beckett. Much of his staff is now also under investigation.

The whereabouts and condition of Richard Castle and Detective Kate Beckett are unknown at the this time, but we are providing up to the minute updates as this extraordinary story continues to unfold."

"This is crazy," Jenny whispers from the doorway, and Espo jumps. He'd forgotten she was there. He cuts his eyes to Ryan,who gives him half a nod.

"Sweetie?" Ryan says to Jenny. "Would you mind getting us some beers? And, um, maybe making popcorn or….something?" He lamely trails off and Esposito is amazed all over again at Ryan's fantastic uncover skills, because he can't lie to his wife for shit.

"Sure," Jenny says, but as she rounds the doorway she raises her eyebrows in a silent reminder that she isn't stupid.

Ryan turns to look at him, his own eyebrows raised. "That airfield is hours away. It's amazing the press got there so fast."

"It is," Espo nods, but he can't quite meet Ryan's eyes. This operation was need to know, he reminds himself.

"News says it was an anonymous tip. Like the whole thing was a set up to expose the corruption in the police department. To expose Turk, so he couldn't hide, so the assassination attempt on Castle and Beckett couldn't be covered up."

Espo nods again, involuntarily glancing at the doorway to make sure Jenny is gone. Words stick in his throat.

"Maybe someone tipped Turk off, too," Ryan continues, hitting point after point. "To make sure he would show up. To finally get this out in the open."

"Maybe."

Ryan stares at the TV for a minute. The news is back, the picture an old paparazzi photo of Kate being lead out of Castle's funeral, her dad on one side, Esposito on the other. It's side by side with a still shot from the video. It's Castle, slightly blurry and out of focus, his body hunched protectively over Beckett on that runway. He's looking up, almost directly into the camera, screaming, frantic, blood smeared across his shirt and neck.

Castle was screaming for help, Esposito remembers. Screaming and screaming. He rubs his eyes, his head aching. God. He needs to sleep for three weeks straight.

"Espo?"

"Yeah?"

Ryan's silent so long Esposito opens his eyes, finds Ryan staring at him, hesitant. Scared.

"Did they make it?" he finally asks. Ryan's squeezing the remote control so hard his knuckles are white.

All the air whooshes out of Espo's lungs as he collapses against the cushions and shuts his eyes against the tears, some weird combo of grief and relief. He can't do this to Ryan. Fuck secrecy and need-to-know.

"Yeah," he manages. He's past caring that his voice breaks. "They made it."

Kate wakes up alone in a tangle of sheets and sweat, her heart thudding against her ribs, tears tracking down her face. Her shoulder throbs as she throws an arm across the empty space of their bed and her chest tightens, stealing her air. Castle's gone.

No. Not gone she reminds herself, clenching her hand in the still-warm sheets, willing her heart rate to slow. Just not here right this second. Just out of her sight.

Kate sits up and takes slow, careful breaths, trying not be sick. She thinks she won't.

She's only thrown up once since they've been here. It was the second week, the first time she woke up alone, the anxiety overwhelming her before she'd had a chance to just think. Castle was downstairs making coffee. She'd washed her face and brushed her teeth and thought she was calm. But it fell apart as soon as she saw him, and Kate had pulled him back into bed, her chilly hands against his hot skin, and tried to cry quietly. Castle held her close, his fingers sliding against her neck while he muttered soft nonsense against her hair. When it was over he handed her a cup of coffee and gently pushed the tears off her face with his thumbs. He didn't make her talk about it, and she isn't sure if she's going to survive loving him.

That was two weeks ago. Today she's not going to get sick, and she's going to stop shaking in just a minute. She's fine.

Castle told her he was getting up. This morning. He'd leaned in and kissed her cheek, his hand in her hair, and whispered not to worry, that he was going down to the beach. He'd be back with coffee before she really woke up. She just forgot is all. Everything is okay.

Kate pulls herself out of bed, the ache in her shoulder just manageable. The bullet went straight through. In and out, just like Ryan's. "You guys can have matching scars, too," Castle had said. "It can be our group thing. Espo needs to get shot more. Where's his team spirit?"

It was one of the first things Castle said to her when she finally woke up, two days after the runway. He was trying to joke, but his eyes were still half-full of residual terror and prone to tears. Kate was unconscious for most the journey to this tiny off-the-map island in the South Pacific ("Just like Lost!" Castle told her days later, delighted.), but once on the plane and another time after they'd landed, she'd been hazily aware of Castle beside her, his head pressed into her good shoulder, the bed shaking with his soft sobs.

Now Kate finds him in his favorite spot, just past the trees. He's sitting in the sand, facing the water, reading a book. It's still early, the sun barely over the horizon. She moves up behind him, her pulse still hard, her legs weak with stupid relief.

Castle turns when he hears her, smiles up at her like nothing is wrong.

"Hey. You're up already? I was going to bring you coffee…" He gets a good look at her face and stops, tense with concern. "Kate? What - "

"No, I'm okay," Kate says, forcing the corners of her lips up. "I, um…. I dreamed you were dead." She shrugs. Rueful, like it's a totally random dream and not the nightmare she's afraid she's going to have the rest of her life.

She's not going to have a panic attack. She's not. He's right here. They're okay.

Castle reaches up and wraps his fingers around her ankle while his face shifts from concern to a desperate sort of understanding. "And I wasn't there."

Kate nods, not trusting herself to speak over the sudden lump in her throat. She concentrates on his thumb sweeping back and forth across her ankle bone. His hands are sandy, the grit lightly abrading her skin. It helps, his grip holding her feet on the ground until she can be sure she won't fly into a panic.

In a minute she'll sit beside him, let herself have the comfort of his arms. Just as soon as she knows she won't break down. Kate has spent two months in tears. She doesn't want to waste any more time crying over nightmares and shadows.

The line of Castle's back and neck is straight and stiff. Tense, as he carefully keeps himself from leaping up to hold her, and Kate has to fight the guilt that is always waiting to remind her that she's ruined Castle's life.

Kate knows it's not true. It's just…

She wants to feel normal again, wants to try to trust the universe a little. They're lucky, Kate reminds herself, when the memories of the last two months crash over her and won't let her breathe. So lucky.

"Got an email from Espo," Castle says suddenly. Like they get email from him whenever, and not just when Espo has access to whatever super secret computer he has to use to make sure his messages are untraceable.

"Yeah?" Kate says. Normal.

"Yeah. Ryan's back at work." Castle pats her foot. "Soon you will be, too."

Kate pretends she believes that. "That's going to be hard, since according to the internet I'm still in an undisclosed hospital in critical condition."

"Good news. According to Espo, you've been downgraded from critical to serious."

"Well, yay. I bet the paperwork to come back from the dead is a real bitch." See? She can do this.

"It is good news, though," Castle says, suddenly earnest. "If fake you is recovering, they must be close to getting these guys and finishing this. Close to bringing us home."

All at once she can't do this. The nightmare is still too close. "You think?" Kate says, and hates the stupid catch in her voice. "You don't sometimes feel like we're going to be hiding here for years?"

Castle tosses his book beside him on the sand and holds out his hand. "Come here."

Kate slips her fingers into his, lets him pull her down beside him. She presses against him, the warmth of his skin welcome even here on the warmth of the beach. She remembers the endless cold without him.

"We're not hiding," Castle says. "We're recuperating. I don't know about you, but I've had a rough couple months." He stares down at her hand in his, his index finger against her pulse. He's done that a lot lately, like he needs the reassurance of her beating heart. He clears his throat."I'm afraid too, you know?" He looks up, all joking gone, his eyes a bright, bright blue. "But we can't let that stop us. Or it's all for nothing."

Kate wraps one hand around his thigh, his skin hot, the hair scratchy against her fingers. "I know that. I do." She swallows, hard, her mouth twisting. She hates that she still get like this. "It's just sometimes, it feels like they've taken so much." Scenes flash behind her eyes, his blood along the warehouse floor, hers against his neck. Waking up every day for two months, knowing she would never see him again. Waking up to him sobbing at her side. "I mean, Castle, we died."

"Kate, no." He turns and brackets her face between his palms. "We'll get these guys, and we'll get our lives back. We're so close." He leans in, his lips light and soft on hers. A promise. Little by little the nightmare is pushed back, because this, this moment here, it doesn't feel like death, like darkness.

The sun is over the horizon now, the light streaming all around them.

Castle's mouth moves along her cheek, brushes her skin until he reaches her ear. "I'm not sorry for any of it," he whispers, gruff. "because it ends with us together. Isn't that what you told me? No regrets?" He pulls her back to meet her eyes, and his are so full of love that it's as though everything around them is illuminated, bright. On fire with the promise of their future together. "And we're alive. Not dead. Alive."

That's right, Kate thinks, her heart shattering with love. I remember now. She wraps her arms around Castle, her mouth on his, her eyes still open to see him. And in the light of a new day bursting all around them, she knows the truth of it. The grace.

This isn't a story about how they died.

It's the story of how they live.

(It always, always is.)

fin

A/N - I know I always say thank you for reading, but honestly, thank you so, so much. I can't believe how many people have stayed with this, some reviewing every single chapter. So many of you have been so overwhelmingly supportive for the two years (two years!) it took me to write this and there is no way I can ever thank you enough. You are the very, very best, every one of you.