A/N: Didn't want to leave this story incomplete, so here's the last chapter. Recommend re-reading previous ones. Takes place during Knockdown.

When he opened the door and saw her twisting her hands and looking distracted, he knew something was wrong.

She told him about Raglan. She wanted him with her for the meet.

She trusted him.

The harsh shatter of glass and the crashing clink of the coffee cup made him instinctively grab for her. The only thing in his mind was her. She needed to be safe.

Blood. Beckett. His heart stopped. When she brushed him away to check Raglan, he crowded at her back. He thought he'd lost her.

The hard look in her eye as she scanned the scene and listened attentively triggered an uneasy feeling in his gut. She was already spiraling, soaking up everything she could, looking for hidden clues—letting her mother's case swallow her.

He just wanted to curl up with her and know that she was never going to get hurt again. But it was only a foolish thought. She was never going to stop and he wasn't going to be enough for her.

He couldn't blame her for being driven. It was one of the things that made her extraordinary.

Maybe this could be her breakthrough.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. Or Johanna Beckett's case. Because it wasn't just her mother anymore. It was the mother of the woman he loved.

He didn't know when he'd fallen in love with her, maybe the first time he looked into her golden-flecked hazel eyes. Maybe it was the 11th time he handed her coffee and she wore that smile that was just for him.

And their first date. Their first official date and he wished he could've told her how he felt with her looking soft and beautiful—like Kate.

But she was scared and wanted slow. He didn't mind. He would wait.

He glanced over at her crouched at her desk, eyes scanning files, her fingers linking names, and her forehead scrunched in confusion.

The make-up under her eyes didn't hide the purple bruises of restless nights.

He'd already made sure she ate lunch, but he wondered if she remembered to eat at night when he wasn't there to nudge her.

When Montgomery called her into his office, he thought of the Jack Coonan case. She was too close.

And when he saw her slap her jacket over her shoulder, he knew she wasn't going to let it go. She wouldn't stop.

"Kate," he tried, wanting with every ounce of his being to follow her but instead, was met with stone-faced silence.

This time he wasn't going to let it go.

He was too close.

He brought flowers—bright, colorful ones, something that would distract her.

His heart knocked in his chest as he rapped against her door, his other hand gripping the flowers tightly.

When she opened the door with eyes wet, hands in pockets, and a heart-breaking smile, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, but he handed her the flowers instead.

"That's really sweet, Castle. Thanks," she managed, a small smile flicking at her lips.

Shrugging, he stood in her kitchen as she hunted for a vase.

"So I was thinking on the way over here, all best cops, Dirty Harry, Cobra, guy from police academy who makes the helicopter noises. They all have one thing in common."

"Plucky sidekick?"

"That and they do their very best work once they've been booted off a case."

"That's what you came all the way over here for?"

"Montgomery may have kicked us off of Raglan's case, but not your mother's."

She threw him a wry smile as she motioned him towards her living room.

"Come on, Castle I gotta show you something."

When she opened the window shades, his heart stopped. Pictures, dates, and names neatly placed but scattered with the mass of questions lining each note.

"I forget sometimes that you live with this every day."

"Yeah."

"When did you start?"

"Over the summer, when you were in the Hamptons."

He watched her eyes scan the information in a well-practiced sweep. His heart clenched. She was splintering inside.

"Kate, you don't have to do this alone."

She glanced at him, eyes unreadable.

"Castle, this isn't your fight. I signed up for this," she finally said, closing the shutters.

"I may not have a badge, Kate, but I'm not letting you fall down the rabbit hole."

She turned away from him, running a hand through her hair.

"I don't need you to babysit me, Castle," she sighed.

"I just don't want you getting hurt," he said softly, running a hand across the back of her shoulder.

She turned back to face him, her eyes wide.

"Castle, this is my life."

"And I don't want to see you throwing it away," he shot back. He just wanted to protect her. Her eyes flickered.

"I can't ask you to do that."

"It's not asking if I'm offering. Let me do this."

"Plucky sidekick always get killed."

"Partner, then."

He held his hand out to her but she ignored it, instead reaching for his collar and pulling him to her, her mouth catching his in a bruising kiss. Her hands twisted in his hair, her body pressing tightly against him.

"Jesus, Kate," he choked out between breaths. Her mouth was hard and biting.

He tasted salt.

"Kate," he said, breathing heavily, "Slow down."

"Castle, please," she said as she unbuttoned his shirt. He caught her wrists, circling his hands around them.

"I'm not letting you do this."

"Do what?" she asked, breaking from his grasp. She didn't meet his gaze.

"Use me as a distraction," he said softly, gently thumbing her tears away.

"Castle, no." She feathered her hands around his jaw, one of her palms slipping to cup his cheek. He unconsciously leaned into her touch, his breath shuddering. "You're not a distraction," she whispered.

He found her eyes, his heart suddenly beating loud in his ears.

"What am I, then?"

She slipped her arms around his neck in a slow glide and skimmed his earlobe with her mouth.

"Everything."

She led him to her bedroom and he followed, ready to take anything she wanted to give. But she was vulnerable, so he stopped the hot stroke of her fingers under his shirt.

"Are you sure?"

She looked up at him. "I don't want to wait anymore," she said, her eyes like molten. Before he could respond, her mouth slanted over his and any words of protest died on his lips.

Her legs wound around his waist and he stumbled back into her bed. She laughed as they fell and became a tangle of limbs. He grinned, his heart brimming as he took her in, at the sight of her face lighting up just for him.

"I don't want this to be a one-time thing," he said.

She nudged her nose with his, her mouth flirting with his.

"Me, neither."

He brought his palms to cup her face, gentling her. He couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I love you."

He felt her tense.

"Rick—"

"You don't have to say anything back, I—"

Her lips interrupted him.

"Shut up."

She climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. Her fingers reached down and tugged at his shirt, pulling it up over his head.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said.

She shed her own shirt and lowered herself to him.

"Say it again."

He woke up before she did. He watched the even rise and fall of her chest as she slept, completely socked out. She looked so peaceful, so he let her rest. He brushed a kiss over her forehead as he slipped out of the bed, throwing on his silk boxers and button-up T-shirt.

About an hour later, he scrounged enough in Kate's kitchen to make pasta and a pretty decent tomato and basil sauce. He even found some old, dry baguette bread, fried it in a pan with olive oil and rubbed fresh garlic on it. He wasn't sure if it was the smell or his clanking around that woke her but she shuffled into the kitchen while he was finishing up in a ratty NYPD sweater and a pair of leggings, rubbing at her eyes, and her hair stuck up in the back. He grinned at the sight of her.

"Hey, Sleepyhead."

She smoothed her hands through her hair, untangling the rat's nest in the back. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner," he said, pinching some salt into his bubbling sauce. "Here, taste," he urged, holding a wooden spoon out to her. She arched a brow, but she leaned forward and swiped her tongue out, slowly licking from the spoon and groaning as the sauce hits her taste buds.

"That's amazing," she said, her eyes flicking down to his boxers. She smirked, "I think I like you in my kitchen like this."

He smiled.

"Just a couple more minutes until the pasta's done. Would you mind setting the table?" he asked.

"Bossy, too," she said, eyeing him impishly before she reached up into the cabinet for plates and wine glasses. Her sweater hiked up, exposing the small of her back and he swallowed, arousal curling in his belly again. He almost reached out to start round four, but he resisted, wanting to enjoy this quiet moment.

She slid past him and soundlessly set the table. He glanced over at her, the domesticity of the scene filling him with an ache.

The pasta timer beeped and she poured the water out. He stirred it together with the sauce in a bowl and put the garlic bread on a serving plate. He heard Beckett uncork a bottle of wine and joined her at the table, setting the food down. She'd dimmed the dining room lights and lit some candles. He thought he would have to bully her into eating dinner with him, to take a break from solving her mother's case. But she's surprising him and he basked in the easy dance they've established.

"Castle?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, breaking from his thoughts.

She set down the bottle of wine and looked at him. "Thank you."

"It's not a prob—"

"No, I mean it. I needed this, and you… " she paused, inhaling, "I really appreciate it."

He approached her. Her eyes are glistening. "It's nothing, Kate."

"I'm sorry, Castle. It's just—I've pushed so many people away with my mom's case. And you always stay. You take care of me," she said gesturing to dinner, "And no one's ever done this for me before."

"Kate."

She looked fragile.

He cupped her cheek in his hands and feathered his lips against hers. She raised herself on her toes, sealing her mouth to his, and they kissed. Slow and gentle.

"Rick, I...I want to be someone more for you, someone who you can..." she looked away, letting the unsaid hang in the hair. Someone who can love you back.

"Shh, later," he murmured, pressing a kiss against her cheek.

He placed a wine glass into her hand and took a seat at the table. She followed, sitting across from him, a grateful look on her face. He took a sip from his wine as she doled out pasta onto both of their plates. He passed her some garlic bread and they ate in comfortable silence for a little. And then she told him a story about her dad, about a ballgame they went to and how her dad caught a foul ball in the stands but a determined little boy punched him in the leg and he dropped it into the boy's mitt out of surprise.

They're laughing one moment and the next, her eyes landed on his, something dark and hungry brewing in her gaze. Her foot flirted with his, and soon, it was traveling further up his leg and thigh. He grinned knowingly at her.

They barely made it to the couch.

He woke in the morning to sun filtering through the blinds. Stretching his arms in a yawn, the night before rushed back to him and he glanced over to the other side of the bed. It was empty. He ran a hand over the spot, the sheets still warm and rumpled.

He rose out of bed and trekked into the living room. He found her by the window, wearing his T-shirt, her mother's case open on the shades. Her head was bent, looking at pictures. The floor creaked as he took another step and her head whipped up. A smile broke across her face.

"Morning, Sleepyhead."

"Hey," he said, smiling back at her.

"I made coffee," she said, nodding at two steaming cups on her desk. God, he loved her. He took a sip before joining her. She kissed him hello, and he slipped the photos from her hand.

"Hey!" she cried out, "I was looking at those."

"What are these?" he asked, his eyes widening as he found a young Kate Beckett looking back at him.

"Oh, no," she moaned, covering a hand over her face in embarrassment.

He gasped at the sight of her in braids and skates.

"You were adorable!"

"No, stop it," she begged, trying to grab for the photos, but he kept them out of her reach.

"I need to see more," he laughed. She tried to distract him by hugging his back and sliding her hands down his bare chest.

"You're evil," he growled as she trailed kisses down his neck. "I just want to see you in action."

She pressed her smile into him. "Trust me, it wasn't pretty."

He flipped through more of the photos, but there aren't any of her skating in the rink. "Do you have the negatives?"

She shook her head at him, amused, and passed him the original sheet of photos. She propped her chin on his shoulder as he held it up to the light. His brow creased when he noticed something strange.

"Kate?"

"Hmm."

"Where're the rest of the photos?"

"What do you mean?"

"There are twenty-four exposures on here, but only twenty printed photos."

"What?" she said, grabbing the negatives from him and bringing them to her desk. She pulled up the digitized files on her computer, confusion clouding her face.

"This is the alley where she was killed. But these were taken a week before it happened," she said, looking at him in scared excitement. "How is that possible?"

Everything spun out of control from there and now they were outside a warehouse and she was open to dumb ideas.

They stumbled out of her cruiser, pretending to be drunk. When she said, "It's not working," to him, he tugged her to him for a searing kiss. He almost forgot about their plan, his mind going blissfully blank as he lost herself in the embrace. They both did. But a moment later, she remembered and managed to pistol-whip the guard in time.

"That was amazing," Castle said, breathless.

"Later," she said, nodding at the entrance. He sobered and followed her inside where she took down Lockwood's henchman before they could hurt Ryan and Esposito.

Castle took cover as a shoot-out unfolded. His blood ran cold when he spotted Lockwood aiming his sniper-rifle at Kate. His heart dropped into his stomach and then all he saw was red. Before he knew it, people were pulling him off of Lockwood and his hand was sore.

Kate found him later in the back of an ambulance, and her fingers started gingerly reworking his bandages.

"Thank you for having my back in there," she said, smoothing her hand over his.

"Always," he replied easily, catching her jaw with his uninjured hand.

She leaned into it, her eyes slipping shut.

"Castle," she whispered hoarsely. "You know...you need to know, I—"

"Kate, it's ok," he said.

She opened her eyes and took his hand from her face and cradled it in her palm between them.

"No," she said fiercely, "It's not." She let her forehead fall against his and locked her gaze with him. "I love you, too," she whispered like it was a secret; like it was something precious.

He smiled softly, his heart overflowing, and pulled her to him, their lips meeting for a tender moment.

"You're everything," he murmured.

She slid onto the spot next to him and nudged him a little so that he raised his arm and she settled into the crook, and her head found a spot on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and she hummed noncommittally. Castle knew how rare it was for her to be this open, so he stayed quiet, reveling in the sweetness of having her tucked into his side. Reveling in her love.

Her mother's case wasn't over, but he knew that he would be with her every step of the way.

Because they were just beginning.

A/N: I wasn't sure where I was heading when I first started this story, but I'm gonna leave it here. I've loved writing this, and I've enjoyed every single one of your responses. Thank you for everything. x