Sorry

3

Castle woke with a pounding heart and a heaving breath. He rose to a sitting position in Jim Beckett's bed in order to try and slow down his heart rate by trying to slow down his breathing. He couldn't stop thinking about the nightmare though. Kate had once again been shot, but this time she'd died in front of his eyes and not come back. It hadn't been the ambulance driving her away but a hearse, actually the same one Montgomery had come in at the beginning of the funeral. When he finally started to come around, his heart slowing down, he put his face in his hands and felt a small shock enter his mind as his fingers came in contact with something wet. Was he crying? Oh, he was. He took in a deep breath and started to wipe away the tears he must've let slipped during the nightmare. He looked around in the room, tried to remind himself she was indeed alive because otherwise there had been no reason for him to be sleeping in her father's cabin, in the man's bed. He had suggested he could simply take the couch but Kate had insisted on him taking her father's bed, had said it was stupid of them to ignore a perfectly fine bed and that there was no reason for him to get back ache for visiting her.

"She is okay," he mumbled for himself, trying to convince himself not to go check on her.

His fingers kept itching, itching to pull off the cover to jump off the bed and run to her room, making sure she's okay. Because she is okay! She was! Unless...

"No, no, no. You're being ridiculous," he told himself.

There was no way someone had broken into the cabin and killed her without him knowing. He would've heard, wouldn't he? She was as paranoid as him, right? So, if someone broke in at least one of them would've sounded an alarm, right? Right?

He huffed, cursing himself for being so damn frightened by everything, and threw off the cover. It didn't take long before he had reached his bedroom door and slowly opened it, silently praying the old cabin didn't make too much noise. There was no way he wanted to wake up Kate, he didn't want to scare her in case she'd forgotten he was there and therefore thought he was an intruder. Walking down the small distance between himself and the bedroom door which would lead to her, he kept thinking about how stupid it was of him to go check on her. The rational part of him knew she was safe. He was being absolutely ridiculous! His hand landed on her knob with hesitation. Was it really his place to open the door and check on her? They weren't together, yet, and even though he had told her he loved her, and she had technically told him she felt the same, he wasn't sure she would appreciate him sneaking around. He let go of the knob to run his hand through his hair instead, trying to figure out what he should do. He wouldn't find peace going back to bed without seeing she was still breathing, was that reason enough to check up on her? Would she kill him if she knew? Probably. Still, his hand landed on the knob again and he slowly turned his wrist, opening the door as quietly as he possibly could. He peaked inside as soon as the door was opened enough for him to stick his head through, seeing the form of her in her bed he felt the pounding of his heart slow down again. The form of his partner was slowly rising and sinking and he let go of a breath he hadn't known he was holding in. He leant his head against the doorframe, watching the woman he'd followed for about three years breathing, alive and well. Suddenly he heard a sniff and he jerked away from the doorframe, about to try and close the door when her voice filled the room.

"Are you okay?"

Before he could move, paralyzed by being caught, her body carefully sat up. He could clearly see she was struggling, probably feeling a strain in her scar.

"Uh-y-yeah," he stuttered.

Through the darkness he thought to see her squinting at him, her hands going through her hair before wiping her face and he heard another sniff.