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Chapter Text

“Roy Montgomery...taught me what it meant to be a cop.” Her first words are halting, unsure. There is a crisp white sheet of paper in front of her, but she is determined she will not look down. Just as she is determined she will not cry, not here, not now, in front of all these people. 

“He taught me that we are bound by our choices.” There is all too much truth in that sentence. Captain Montgomery, more than anyone she ever knew, was bound by his choices. Choices the world must never know about. Choices that would no longer allow him to have died a hero’s death. 

“But we are more than our mistakes.” He was. He was more than his mistakes, even...even the ones that had cost her mother her life. 

Oh God. How can she do this? How can she stand at this podium, looking out at all these grieving faces and mourn with them a man partially responsible for her mom’s death? 

No matter how much she had respected and liked him, she still has trouble forgiving him. Maybe she never will. 

But as she looks out at the collection of people draped in black who are assembled here, she knows it doesn’t matter. This is about celebrating a life. And his life deserves celebrating. 

“Captain Montgomery once said to me that for us there is no victory,” she continues. “There are only battles. And in the end the best you can hope for is to find a place to make your stand.” Another pause. Time to collect her thoughts, prepare herself to let loose her next words. 

“And if you’re very lucky, you find someone willing to stand with you.” As Kate looks out at the audience, she knows they will take her words as a reference to all of Montgomery’s friends at the NYPD. And they are. But it also has a more personal note to it, and she hopes he knows that. With the specter of death looming over her, she hopes he understands what she cannot yet say. 

Castle appears pained. 

“Our Captain would want us to carry on the fight. And even if there is...” She has to stop here, swallow, before she can go on. “Even if there is one—“ 

A shot rings out, and for a moment, she stands there, confused. She’s trying to make sense of the noise, the shrieks, the sudden pain in her chest. She is knocked down by someone, and only when she realizes Castle has landed on top of her does she know what happened. 

The cries of panic seem to fade away until there is only them, no screaming, no sirens. They seem to fill the empty space in her chest where her life blood is draining out. As she looks up into his blue eyes, all her regrets about him, about them, well up inside her. 

“Kate, shh,” he says. “Kate, stay with me, Kate.” The pain and fear in his eyes is so immense it nearly blocks out her own. “Don’t leave me, please.” She’s shivering now, moving uncontrollably but his hands pin hers to the earth, keeping her immobile, keeping her grounded. She tries to concentrate on his voice, but all she can hear is a roar in her ears and the screaming wound in her chest. “Stay with me, okay?” She wants to, she wants to so much, but she can already feel herself slipping away. Desperately she stares up into his eyes, trying to hold on, trying to tell him all the things she should have said years ago. But her mouth refuses to open, and her tongue refuses to move. All she can do is listen. Listen, and try to hold on. But it’s futile. And she knows it. 

“Kate...I love you.” Even these words of his, as much as they mean to her, cannot pull her back into his world. “I love you, Kate.” All she can think is that she’ll never be able to tell him the same. A tear slips down her cheek. She hopes it will tell him what she cannot say.
Then the last of her strength drains out of her limbs and her head relaxes back onto the grass. Castle looks stricken. Her eyes close. 

She’s vaguely aware of the people lifting her up onto a gurney. She’s vaguely aware of the sirens in the background, of Castle yelling after her, “Kate! Kate!” At first she doesn’t know why he’s yelling, and then she does. He is not with her anymore. 

“Don’t die on me now,” another voice swims into her mind, but the pain is unbearable. It’s too much, too much to even register this other voice, however familiar it is. Someone is pressing firmly on her chest, but this only brings a wave of pure agony. She finally surrenders to the pain, riding on its waves and waiting to be washed up in the land of oblivion. 

Richard Castle can’t speak. Can’t think. All he can do is drive. He maneuvers his car through the tightest of spaces between cars, spaces that didn’t even exist a second before. The car screeches to a halt just before the line at a stoplight, the first in a string of many. The next he resolves to just blow through. They are all barriers from reaching her. Kate. 

Please don’t let her die, he thinks, but all his pleading thoughts cannot stop it from happening. He wishes he was in the ambulance with her, wishes that, if it comes to that, he can hold her hand as she passes. Kiss her cheek. Whisper one last time that he loves her. 

Had she heard him, at the cemetery? He hopes so. But even more, he hopes she’ll make it. Because he doesn’t know how he’ll live without her if she doesn’t. It would mean the end of Nikki Heat, definitely. No matter that he had enough research to write a dozen books, with Beckett gone it would be unbearable to even consider. 

He floors the gas pedal, swerving through traffic in his race to arrive before it’s too late. For a moment he thinks he’s beaten the ambulance there, but quickly spots the commotion in the hallway and sprints inside after them, jogging to keep up with the gurney. 

Seeing her lying there so still...he almost stops breathing. Lanie is riding the gurney with the paramedics pushing it along. Her gloved hands are soaked in blood. So much blood. 

“Kate!” he calls out, pushing past nurses and patients alike. Lanie doesn’t even glance up at him from her work. 

Please let her be okay... He’s promising everything, everything he has to whatever deity is listening, if only she survives. He’ll attend every book signing Gina schedules him for without complaining. He’ll donate all the profits of his mostly-finished Heat Rises. He’ll never make snarky jokes at anyone ever again, if only she will be okay. 

He hates this feeling of helplessness. He wants to do something. Anything to help the love of his life lying on the gurney. She’s so pale...God, she’s so pale. He wants to climb on the gurney, caress her face and tell her everything will be okay, but he can’t even do that. 

“C’mon, Kate. You do not die on me!” The fear is all too evident in Lanie’s voice and it only makes Castle’s heart beat faster. “Stay with me! Stay with me!” 

A doctor pushes past Castle and catches up with the gurney, running alongside it. “Single GSW to the chest, initially unresponsive, lost vitals right in front of us,” the EMT lists off. Hearing the words, even in doctor speak, is a blow to Castle. Please let her be okay... 

“Stay with me! Do not die! C’mon, girl!” Lanie presses down on the wound with even greater fervor, a wild light in her deep brown eyes. 

Castle’s winded now, he’s been running at full speed to keep up in his heavy funeral clothes, but he doesn’t relent. He’ll follow all the way to surgery if they’ll let him, and maybe even if they don’t. She won’t die, she can’t die... 

“Set up for a chest tube, trauma one!” the doctor shouts to someone Castle can’t see. “Switch, we’ve got this!” he instructs Lanie. Though it’s irrational, Castle doesn’t want her to let go. He trusts the ME to hold her in this world more than the doctor. Lanie loves Kate almost as much as he does. 

“This is my friend, you understand me? She’s my friend!” Lanie belts out. She does not release her grip on Beckett. 

The doctor grabs on. “Then let us save her life.” Lanie looks down at Beckett, so immobile she must be unconscious. He wants her to be unconscious. He doesn’t want her to have to go through this, experience this hellish nightmare. 

“Don’t let go,” he whispers as Lanie steps down, whether to Lanie or Kate he doesn’t know. He catches up to Lanie, standing close to her as Beckett is wheeled away. She looks so fragile. His instinct is to run after her, protect her, but he knows he’d only be in the way. It’s up to the doctors now. 

Lanie sniffles and pulls off her gloves. Castle puts an arm around her and she leans against his chest. Neither of them can hold back tears as Kate disappears around the corner. 

Bright lights. Bright lights behind her eyelids. Shouts of alarm. “Kate!” Castle? Or a figment of her imagination? A machine beeps incessantly and her mind is too muddled to think about what it means. Pain explodes again as her body is shunted to the side and prodded. She’s only aware of flashes now, snippets of conversation. 

“We have a rhythm. Let’s check for breathing.” 

“BP is 86 over 60.” 

“C’mon. Stay with me. Stay with me, Kate, I got you.” Castle? She wants to reach out to him, but she can’t. She’s trapped, trapped inside her own mind. Everything is a jumble, tinged with red and pain. 

“Okay, we can’t wait. Set up her intubation.” 

“There’s too much blood.” 

“Blood pressure’s still dropping.” The words are coming faster now, clipped fragments of a conversation she is not part of. 

“Thirty-one year-old—pulmonary vein—let me sew her up.” She’s frantic now. Something’s wrong, everything’s wrong, things should be getting clearer, not fuzzier. Then she realizes. She’s dying. 

“—dropping critical—distended—Scissors!” The sounds are getting further away now and her mind feels sluggish. Castle, she thinks, but the idea she’ll never see him again is almost too much to bear. I love you, Castle. If only she had said it before all this. 

A final breath, more of a sigh, really, escapes her body as she is engulfed in white light. She’s floating away on a cloud. 

Chapter Text

A doctor approaches them, and Jim and Castle both look at the same time. The longing and fear in their eyes doesn’t even give the doctor pause, but he ignores Castle and addresses Jim. Lanie buries her face in Esposito’s shirt, murmuring, “Javi...” 

”Are you Jim Beckett?” Castle half wants to hug the doctor, half wants to strangle him for keeping them waiting so long. But all he can manage is to stop pacing and listen attentively, heart thudding in his chest. 

“Yes, I’m Jim.” His voice shakes. 

“Your daughter survived the surgery—“ There’s a collective sigh of relief from those assembled. Tears of a different kind fill Lanie’s eyes as she hugs Esposito even harder. “—but during the operation, her heart did stop once. We’ve had to put her into a medically-induced coma to heal.” 

“You let her die?” Castle’s voice is broken, quiet. He feels nothing now. The world is numb, disjointed. “We’re hopeful that when we reduce the drugs she’ll wake up naturally.” 

“And if she doesn’t wake up?” Ryan’s hushed whisper is so quiet that no one but Castle and Esposito, who are closest to him, can hear it. “If she doesn’t wake up?” He says it again, louder, putting a voice to the fears shared by all of them. 

Castle stands there mutely, trapped in a fantasy world where Kate’s eyes have ceased to blink, a world where her chest has ceased to rise and fall, a place where she’ll never again tell him, “In your dreams, Castle,” in that snarky voice he loves so much. Without Kate, there is no “Always.” He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to write about death—or love—again. 

“Then there will be nothing else we can do for her,” the doctor answers sympathetically. “But we are optimistic about her recovery. She was the very picture of health before the incident.” 

“Thank you,” Jim says, nodding with a crushed look. He does not appear comforted by the doctor’s last statement. 

A new feeling is rising in Castle as he resumes pacing, replacing the emptiness of the moment before. He is angry. He is angry at himself: that he couldn’t save her, that he couldn’t knock her down in time, that he never had the courage to tell her how he really felt until she was dying in front of him. He is angry at the doctors, that they hadn’t done enough to for sure save her, that they could help when he could not. He is angry at every single stoplight and driver between the cemetery and the hospital that had slowed them down in their race against time, against death. 

New footsteps approach them, loud and smacking against the tile floor. Castle looks up just in time to receive Josh’s punch. “You were supposed to keep her safe!” the MD shouts at him, pulling back his arm for a second swing. Castle’s right cheek throbs, but his heart hurts even more as the words cut deep into it. They hit at his very core because he knows Josh is right. But coming from him, Castle’s rage boils over. This is Josh, motorcycle boy, whom he can hate with impunity for his role in her life and for not working harder to save her. He pulls back his arm to deliver a swing of his own. 

“Dad!” Alexis doesn’t know what she has just circumvented as he encircles his arm around her and she hugs him tight. Right now she is just his teenage daughter, white and scared for the life of a woman she had looked up to and respected. Martha speeds along behind, throwing her arms around them both with an exclamation, “Oh, Richard!” 

“Mother, Alexis,” he breathes, squeezing them tightly to his body.
“How is she?” Martha demands at the same time Alexis pulls back, saying, “Dad, is she okay?” 

“The surgery went well,” he tells them evasively. Because he cannot bear to say the other part, the last part. Saying it aloud might make it true. 

Alexis hugs him again, her warmth and cherry vanilla scent a comfort in and of itself. She and his mother lead him by both hands to a set of three chairs next to Lanie and Esposito. The two haven’t disconnected since Esposito first arrived, and they are staring blankly off into space, each lost in their own thoughts. 

Castle sinks down into the seat, tired from his run and relentless pacing. Jim takes Josh off to the side to speak to him quietly and again a knot of anger forms in the pit of his stomach. He hates that Josh has more of a right to be here, waiting, than he does. He will get to see her before Castle does, kiss her before Castle does, and whisper sweet things in her ear before Castle does. And as he sits there in that lobby, surrounded by his family, friends, and coworkers, he realizes that he won’t even get to say these things to Kate, second or at all. 

Beckett, he reminds himself. The surname leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. To him she is only Detective Beckett. She belongs to someone else, and a panicked admission of love doesn’t change that. She belongs to Josh, not to him. He is only her partner, and, if he’s wrong and his feelings aren’t reciprocated, that is all he will ever be. 

The single tear at the cemetery...what did it mean? He wants to believe that it was her reaction to his words, an unspoken message saying she shared in his sentiments. But another part of him knows it could just as easily have been the shock of a bullet that evoked the tear, an involuntary action, the fear of death. Meaningless. She might not have heard him at all. Beyond the prospect of her death that hurts the most, he thinks. 

Eventually Josh takes his leave of them after another hostile glance in Castle’s direction. Jim sits down across from Martha and puts his head in his hands. 

Three hours later finds them all in the same exact positions, sitting a vigil for a gravely injured police officer who means different things, but so much, to each of them. To Jim, she is of course his daughter. She is the daughter whose strength never flagged after her mother’s death and who saved him from drowning his pain in the depths of a bottle. To Lanie, she’s a loyal best friend. To Ryan and Esposito, she is the star of their team, the best detective in all of New York City. She’s their friend too. To Alexis, she’s a role model, and maybe even sometimes a surrogate mother figure. To Martha, she is the woman her son loves, and through her motherly duties Martha has come to care deeply for Kate as well. 

To Castle...all the words in the world can’t describe who she is to him. She is the love of his life, the partner who can change from tender to badass in two seconds flat. She is the one who respects the victims as people and not as meaningless names on the page. She is beautiful, intelligent, and determined—extraordinary in every way. And sexy. Very sexy. Not even her lying on her deathbed can make him forget that. 

She means so much to all of them. He hopes she knows that, wherever in this hospital she is. He hopes she can feel their love and support. 

“You can see her now,” the doctor says to Jim. Castle hadn’t even noticed his approach. The MD takes in the motley party of seven assembled in the lobby, looking up at him with a glimmer of hope for the first time in four long hours. “Only two at a time, please. The observation room isn’t that big.” Castle rises immediately, second in speed only to Jim. None of the others stand but merely look at him. They all know and accept what he hopes she knows. They all know exactly how much he loves her. 

“Come this way,” instructs the doctor, and he and Jim follow mutely. Somehow, in Castle’s mind, he knows that if he sees her then everything will be all right. Once he has seen her, seen proof for himself that she lives on, he can just will her to keep going. 

Nothing he has ever seen or done prepares him for the army of machines keeping her alive. They beep and whirr and chug, a strange cacophony to represent priceless service they provide. Inanimate and inorganic as they are, he feels indebted to them. They are safekeeping the one person outside his family who means the most to him. 

Jim steps closer to the glass, hungrily devouring the sight of her. She is pale—so pale—and so still that the only thing convincing him she is still alive is the steady beep of the machines and the network of wires connecting her to them. If she had died, they would have taken out the wires. As he stares through the glass searching in vain for any sign of life, it momentarily occurs to him how much this little observation room reminds him of the one at the precinct, just with white-washed walls and more clutter. 

He longs to press his hands to the glass and get closer to her, never mind the hospital staff’s displeasure. He longs to burst into the sterile room and kneel beside her, take her hand. He wants to stroke her hair and reassure her that she is safe now. Everything will be okay. 

And, to a lesser extent, he wants someone to do the same for him. Minus the hair-stroking part. 

There is nothing left to do here but stand, so he slips out the door. The others will all want to see her as well, and if he can’t wrap his arms around Kate then the next best thing is Alexis. He nods to Lanie as she extricates herself from Esposito’s grip and stands, anticipation glittering in her eyes. Alexis leans into him over the wooden arm separating them, her presence a warm comfort. She’s always been cuddly, but right now he needs her more than ever. He’s vaguely aware of time passing, of Jim and Lanie returning, Ryan and Esposito’s departure, and finally Martha’s taking of food requests. 

“Do you want anything, Richard?” she asks. There’s both sympathy and pity present in her blue eyes. 

“No, thank you, Mother. I’m fine,” he says listlessly. She frowns slightly before trotting off to the vending machines, gaudy handbag dangling from one arm. 

“Are you okay, Dad?” Alexis asks. As he looks down at his beautiful daughter, he can’t bear to lie to her. 

“I don’t know, Alexis.” She seems to accept this answer and it strikes him that she’s much older, much more mature than he gives her credit for. He misses his little girl. “After Gram gets back, you should go home with her.” 

Alexis pulls away in shock, hand on his chest. Indignation flares in her eyes. “What? No, Dad, I’m not leaving you!” 

“Yes, you are.” His voice is half-pained, half-emotionless. He wants to remove her from this awful situation. “You have school tomorrow.” He doesn’t realize that no matter where she is physically located, her heart and thoughts will be here with him and Kate. 

“I don’t care; I don’t—“
“There’s nothing you can do here. Go home, go to school for the last week. I’ll call you if anything changes.” 

“Dad...” she says, crushed, but there’s no arguing with him when he’s in this state. When his mother returns, he gives her the same instructions. Martha’s not happy about it, but she obeys. 

With Martha and Alexis gone, Castle leans heavily on the arm of his chair. Now that someone has already left, Esposito and Ryan get up to go as well, saying that they’ll head back to the cemetery to check up on the crime scene before calling it a night. 

“I’ll come,” Lanie says. A sense of purpose has been added to her demeanor. “I can help CSU analyze any clues the sniper might’ve left.” Esposito nods his assent and the three take off. 

Now it’s just Jim left for company. Though neither of them says a word, they move together into the observation room to sit instead of the lobby. He doesn’t know how long they sit there, keeping watch over her, before Jim speaks. 

“When she was little...” Jim’s eyes are closed, words hesitant. “When she was little, Katie used to be afraid of needles. She said they’d accidentally puncture all the way through her arm and leave a hole there. I remember when she was five we had to take her in for a tetanus shot before kindergarten. I held her hand the whole time and told her a story about a unicorn that grew wings and flew to the moon.” Castle’s spirits lift, just a tiny bit. “Now when I see her with all those tubes attached to her, I wonder if she ever got over that fear, or she just hid it deep down inside. I wonder if she was scared when they put them in.” 

Castle considers what to say for a moment. “I’ve caught killers alongside Kate for three years. She’s nearly fearless.” 

Jim laughs a hollow laugh. “Not by a long shot, Rick. Not by a long shot.” 

Chapter Text

Fifty-two hours, twenty-three seconds. No, he hasn’t been counting. He has an app on his phone that has never served a purpose until now. 

The silence sits around them, heavy. She’s out of surgery, he thinks. As long as she wakes up, she’s going to be okay. Even with the conditional, this thought makes him hope. 

Jim, across from him, looks even more anguished than he, pale with tight lips, drawn skin. He wants to say something, anything to break the silence, but he can find nothing. He is a writer with no more words in his arsenal. 

The time for sharing stories from Kate’s childhood is long since gone. The time for talking about much of anything is gone. 

Kate’s still in ICU. No one has been allowed inside to sit with her yet. They say her immune system is too fragile to handle visitors right now, and besides, she hasn’t woken up yet. That’s what worries them. She hasn’t woken up. 

At first, the doctors told them not to be too concerned. They had just reduced the medication, and it would take one to two hours to wear off completely. Castle remembers the happiness he felt at that news, the happiness he saw mirrored in Jim. They had chatted and talked inconsequentially then, spirits lifted by the thought that soon they could again see Kate’s beautiful brown eyes and maybe even witness a smile. 

That was four hours ago. 

Briefly Castle considers calling Alexis from the observation room. Her voice would cheer him up again, remind him that all is not yet lost. But to do that would be to tell her that Kate might not live, and he can’t bear the thought. He won’t burden her with it, no matter how much pain he’s in. Even if he’s received five desperate texts from her over the course of the day, plying him for news. He won’t share until...until it’s definitive either way. 

His phone’s screen lights up, showing Caller ID. It’s Alexis. He gives Jim a questioning look, and when the older man nods Castle answers it. “Hey, Alexis.” His tone is as upbeat as he can make it, but it’s still decidedly disconsolate. 

“Dad, you didn’t respond to any of my texts! Is something wrong?” Her voice is nearly hysterical.
“Sorry, Alexis, I should’ve replied. They’ve taken her off the drugs, so Kate should be coming around any minute now.” He doesn’t mention how long ago they took her off.

“I was so scared,” Alexis says. There’s a pause, and he can just imagine her biting her lower lip on the other end. “Will you come home tonight?” 

Hearing that breaks his already fragile heart. “Yeah, I will. Of course I will, if you need me.” 

She’s breathless on the other end. “Thank you.” 

“Rick. Rick!” Jim is motioning to him frantically. 

“Alexis, I have to go. I’ll see you later!” He ends the call, peering through the glass to see what Jim is pointing to. 

Her eyes. Her eyes are open. 

Castle just might weep for joy as he sees her blink, once, twice. He pulls the door open to the hallway with rampant enthusiasm and hails the first person in scrubs he can find. He and Jim watch from behind the glass as the short Asian doctor pulls on a surgical mask and enters the room. There’s no sound coming through the mirror, but they both know enough of what’s going on by watching doctor and patient interact. 

A tear makes its way down his face, leaving a salty trail behind it. He doesn’t wipe it away. She’s back. Kate’s back. 

Once she opens her eyes, she’s aware of all the sensations. The bright white lights of the room. The whirring and beeping of the machines. The itch in her arms and hands where IVs crawl under her skin. The stickiness of the electrodes attached to her forehead and under her garments. And a dull ache all over her chest and midsection, centering on the place the bullet struck her. 

Even this amount of thought and sensation has made her unbelievably tired. So when the nurse enters the room and begins to ask her questions, every word she says is a blur. The only part Kate catches is that it’s been two days. 

Two days. Castle. And her father. Esposito, Ryan, Lanie. She wants to see them; she wants to see them all. But she’s just so tired... 

“Miss Beckett, there is a visitor who would love to see you, if you feel up to it.” Kate is momentarily distracted. She has seen Castle through the window, and his eyes are positively glowing with happiness. 

“Castle?” she asks. Her voice is gone, raspy at best. Her throat is dry, parched, and just then her head begins to throb as well. The only parts of her that remain relatively painless are her feet. 

“No, I’m sorry. It’s your father. Only immediate family members are allowed in this section of the ICU. Should I let him in?” The nurse appears truly contrite. 

“Yes, please.” The nurse bustles off to prepare her father, but Kate has eyes only for Castle. He smiles, a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. He places a hand against the glass, the closest he can get to touching her. It quickly reshapes itself into the classic Vulcan Salute. The corners of her mouth curve upwards ever so slightly. Castle. 

Then she remembers. She remembers the shooting. She remembers the profession of his love that followed. And all of a sudden, everything that seemed so natural, so easy, so simple, so right a second ago is complicated beyond belief. Her brow creases and his grin falters at the sight of it. 

“Katie!” Her father’s evident relief washes over her, distracting her from the man in the window. As he sits on the chair beside her, he too is wearing a paper mask, but pure love blazes in his eyes. 

“Dad,” she says. A true smile this time. She discovers how much it hurts and quickly lets it go. 

“You had us worried for a while there.” He clasps her hand in his large calloused ones, disregarding the tape covering them to hold the needle in place. She frowns slightly. She doesn’t want them to worry. 

“It takes more than a bullet to stop me, Dad,” she says sleepily. He notices.

“You should go back to sleep,” he says. “I’ll be sitting right here when you wake up.” Her eyes are already closing, but she makes one last effort to speak. “Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

She’s asleep again. Is it normal for patients to sleep that much? She’s been in a coma for two days, and yet she still can’t manage to stay conscious for more than a few minutes. 

Castle stops himself. He’s picking at something that turned out better than he had hoped for. Not only has she awoken from the coma, but she saw him. She knew he was there. And she smiled, just a little bit. 

Castle is ecstatic. She has not rejected him for his panicked admission of love. They are the same as they ever were, if not better, in that regard. She’s accepted it. She’s his, and he is hers. She’s his. 

He types out a quick text to Alexis, knowing she’ll pass the good news along to Martha. Then he calls Esposito. It’s picked up halfway through the first ring. “Esposito.”

“Hey, it’s me,” Castle says.

“Castle. What’s the news on Beckett?” 

“She’s woken up!” Castle rejoices. 

“Yo, Ryan!” Esposito hollers to someone nearby. “Beckett’s awake!” 

There’s a muffled, “That’s great!” from the other end of the line. 

“Have you got anything on the sniper?” Castle asks. 

“Not yet, no,” he answers. “But we’re still working on it. It’s been a hectic couple of days, with the new Captain coming in and everything.” Castle had forgotten about that in the midst of his misery. 

“Beckett’s case should be most important,” Castle says. He’s trying to relay the overhanging tension he feels over the phone, but he fears he’s not getting the point across. He needs—she needs—they all need—that sniper found, brought to justice, put away for good. 

“Dude, you think I don’t know that? We’re running down every lead we get, no matter how small. But nothin’s turned up yet.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Castle apologizes.

“Nah, it’s cool, bro,” Esposito replies. “I get it. We’re all worried about her.” 

“On that thought,” Castle says hurriedly. He’s anxious to get home and see Alexis, but he has to get this done first. “Is there any way you can get a protective detail over here? I can’t help but feel like she’s a sitting duck in here, and if the sniper failed once, he might try again.” 

Esposito swears softly. “I never even thought of that; we’ve been so focused on finding the shooter. I’ll talk to Captain Gates about it right away.” 

“Thanks,” Castle says. “Tell Lanie about Beckett too.” 

“I will.” He hangs up. 

Castle’s euphoria lasts him the entire drive home and even into the loft. Martha envelops him in a big hug upon arrival, and Alexis jumps down the stairs with her phone pressed to her ear. “Ash, my dad just got home. I’ll talk to you later!” She discards the phone on the table and leaps into Castle’s open arms. “Dad!” It’s a full minute before she releases him. “Detective Beckett woke up?” 

“Yeah.” He grins again; he can’t help himself. “Yeah, she did. She’s going to be all right!” She squeezes him tight again. “So, fill me in: what have you been doing the last couple days?” A twinge of guilt touches him; he’s barely seen his daughter since he sent her home from the hospital. 

Her smile fades as they sit down on the couch together. “Well, I’ve been trying to focus on school, like you said. I only had my English and math finals today, but I was really distracted the whole time. I think I did okay. I mean, I calculated that I needed 33% on the English final and 40% on the Calculus final to end up with A’s, so...”

Castle smiles. That sounds like his daughter. “I’m sure you did wonderfully.” 

“I’ve also been talking to Ashley a lot. He’s a really good listener over the phone, Dad...I’m glad you didn’t scare him off waving that antique gun around.” 

He kisses her forehead. “I’m glad too. But you know what I’m thinking now?” 

“What?”

“Celebratory ice cream.” 

Alexis grins, racing him to the freezer to claim the last few scoopfuls of chocolate in the container. They both end up with a hand on it, but Castle is guarding the silverware drawer. For a moment it’s a stalemate, and then she tugs and pulls it from his grasp. He negotiates two bites for access to the spoons. 

He treasures times like these with his daughter, well aware that in a years’ time moments like these will be scarce and hard to come by. 

When they are both so full they cannot eat another bite, Alexis gives him another hug and bids him goodnight. Castle retires to his room as well, but as he lies on his bed all his fears come back to him. He feels guilty for leaving her in the hospital even though she won’t be alone there. He’ll return first thing tomorrow morning, wave at her through the observation room window. But it’s poor substitute for what he really wants to do. He wants to be in that room. He wants to be the one holding her. 

The second time she wakes, her father is still there. He smiles down at her, happiness spread across his whole face. “Hey, Katie. How do you feel?” 

“I’m okay, Dad,” she replies. But she’s not. She’s exhausted and in pain. There’s a hardness in her eyes that wasn’t there before, a tension in her every feature. 

He smoothes back her hair. “You were very lucky. I’m so glad you’re safe.” Lucky. She doesn’t feel lucky. She feels weak, and she hates that he’s seeing her like this. “Tomorrow they’re going to move you to a different section of ICU where you can have visitors. They’re all excited to see you.” He smiles. “Especially Rick.” 

“Good,” she says in a hollow voice. No, this is all wrong. She doesn’t want any of them to see her like this. She can’t pull off Detective Beckett in this hospital bed. She can’t pull off Detective Beckett while lying immobile on her back, fighting every moment to stay awake. 

“There’s someone who wants to see you now, though,” her father says, mistaking the pain in her eyes for bodily pain. 

“I thought no one but family is allowed in?” she murmurs. 

“He’s different,” Jim says. He’s confident that seeing this person will be a welcome surprise for her, will cheer her up. A cold fear steals through her muscles. She thinks it’s Castle. She thinks he’s used his best-selling-author persona to get himself in. 

She doesn’t want to see him. She’s not ready. She doesn’t know how she’ll react. She doesn’t know where she wants them to go from here. In addition, she doesn’t want to see the concern and pity in his eyes. She doesn’t want anyone’s pity. She doesn’t need it. 

Jim stands to leave, but she doesn’t want him to go. There are so many things she doesn’t want right now, they could fill a book. 

Josh enters, not Castle. And it’s a huge relief. She knows exactly where she and Josh stand. Their relationship is uncomplicated, ordinary. “Hey, you,” he greets her. 

“Hey, you,” she says, attempting another smile. 

“I told you I’d show you around my work one day, but I’m guessing you didn’t think it’d be such an in-depth tour.” He’s teasing her, and it’s so normal she can almost forget where she is. 

“It’s almost as bad as a real-life demonstration of lock up,” she replies easily. 

“Don’t worry; I’m not planning on getting arrested any time soon.” There’s a comfortable lull in the conversation before he says, “So, how’re we treating you?” 

“Pretty good. I’d kill for for something to drink though.” 

“I’ll talk to the nurse about getting you a little water. You can’t overdo it, though. And no food until tomorrow.” 

“Not even jello? It’s not food.” 

He grins. “Not even jello.” He slips his hand under the blankets to find hers. 

She gives it a weak squeeze. “I’m tired.” 

“And I have to go back on shift. I’ll come visit you later, okay?” 

“M’kay.” She slipping away again, and the heavy pain meds they’ve put her on aren’t helping anything. She hopes next time she’ll be able to stay awake longer, have more energy in her limbs. 

“Miss Beckett?” It feels to Kate like no time has passed, but the nurse has appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “We’re going to move you now, to a different section of ICU.” It must be the next day, though her sense of time is totally skewed. Josh must have come and gone in the night while she was sleeping. Part of her wishes he would have woken her up. Part of her is just glad for the rest. 

“Okay,” she mumbles. “What do I have to do?” 

The nurse smiles. “You don’t have to do anything, just lie still.” Kate hates lying still, and doing nothing even more. The nurse tilts Kate’s head forward slightly, placing over her nose and mouth a mask to keep the germs out. Her immune system must be more compromised than she’d realized. 

After removing all the electrodes from her forehead and tubes from her left arm, the nurse calls in another two men in scrubs to roll the bed down the hallway while she makes sure the IV bags don’t jostle too much. Kate’s exhausted again by the time they arrive and she hasn’t even moved. The sight of two armed police officers standing outside her door is only mildly surprising. 

It’s who’s inside that is. Castle. 

Chapter Text

Why does her life have to be so damn complicated? She tries to arrange her expression into a small smile when she sees him, but really she’s dying inside. How ironic. 

“Hey, Beckett.” Castle just looks at her, this silly puppy grin on his face. The nurse and her two companions rearrange the bed before Castle can really look at her, study her. His scrutiny makes her self-conscious, and all of a sudden she feels weak in front of his piercing gaze. She retracts from him a bit, the slightest hint of hostility in her bearing. 

But she forces a smile. “Hey, Castle.” He doesn’t see the clenching of her hands under the blankets or the whirlpool of confusion swirling through her brain. His presence is like an electric shock, pushing back her weariness for a few minutes of complete clarity. She’d almost prefer the muddled thinking as opposed to dealing with this. 

“How’re you doing?” 

“I’ve been better.” She adopts a light-hearted tone that she hopes will mask her true pain. 

He smiles. Even lying in a hospital bed, her wit is intact. “Yes, I can see that. This is a new look for you. But as well as you pull it off, I think I’d like something a little less...serious.” He gestures down at her to indicate what he means. Then his countenance changes, darkens. “Listen, Kate...do you remember the shooting?” 

Her eyes flick up to meet his. “No.” 

She watches Castle recoil, like her words are a slap in the face. A melancholy feeling seeps into her heart and she adds, “No, I don’t. Some things are better not remembered. But Castle?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you tell me what happened? I don’t want to hear it from anybody but you.” The light in his eyes has returned, and she hopes beyond hope that he won’t say he loves her again. She can’t deal with that right now, on top of everything else. 

“You were standing at the podium, delivering a speech at Montgomery’s funeral. Beautiful speech by the way, I couldn’t have written it better myself.” The corners of her mouth curve upwards again. “In the middle of it, I was looking out towards the gravestones and I saw this flash, the kind that glints off the barrel of a rifle. I tried to knock you down, but...” He hangs his head. 

“’S not your fault, Castle.” He meets her eyes, his own filled with guilt and remorse.

“I was supposed to have your back. And I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“It was supposed to be over,” Kate says, letting bitterness into her voice for the first time. “There was no way you could have seen that coming.” 

“Thanks.” He looks marginally happier. He hasn’t said anything about his admission of love. Maybe he won’t. Maybe they can just let it slide. But is that what she really wants? They sit in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other’s company. She’s considering asking him to leave—under the pretense of getting some rest, she really just wants him out of here so she doesn’t have to face all the complicated feelings and decisions he poses—but before she can say anything, he asks, “Josh been by yet?” 

“Uh, yeah,” she says, nonplussed. “Twice. Why?” 

Castle shakes his head. “No reason.” 

He scoots closer to her and places his hand on her forearm, a warm pressure that makes her want to flinch away and hug him at the same time. “Kate,” he says softly. Her heart thuds in her chest. She expects him to say it, finally, just when she had started to believe he wouldn’t. She doesn’t know how much of a coward he really is. She underestimates his fear of rejection. “Are you okay?” 

Somehow she knows he’s not referring to the bullet wound. 

She looks down to hide both her relief and her disappointment. Her heart is crying inside, but her mind is relieved. The tumultuous emotions have drained her of her vitality again, and she says truthfully, “I’m tired, Castle.” 

That’s not what he really means and they both know it. But she doesn’t want to think about the shooting, or Montgomery, and especially not dying. 

He nods, the slightest bit crushed. He had looked so vibrant, so happy coming in here, and now... Kate just wants him to go, before either of them gets hurt any further. 

“Of course. I’ll...I’ll come visit you later,” he says. Kate doesn’t have the heart to tell him no. With one last backward glance, Castle leaves the room and she sighs, feeling a release of tension within her body as he steps out of sight. 

She loves him. She knows that, has known, for a while now. But she’s with Josh. Being with Castle might be a wild ride, a dream come true for a little while, but she can’t be sure that he’ll stick around. Not with his history. Not with the fact that it took her dying, shot in a cemetery, for him to tell her he loves her. Does it even count when emotions were running so high? Maybe he did it as a spur of the moment thing, knowing that he might not get another chance. That would explain why he doesn’t mention it now. 

Josh is the safe choice. He’s the comfortable, uncomplicated choice. He loves her, and it’s as simple as that. Her life needs simple right now, so she can focus on getting better, getting back to the precinct, getting her job and her life back. That is her first priority. Though she won’t admit it, even to herself, Kate is ignoring the most important question: does she love him? 

Castle has to clench his fists to keep from punching the blank wall outside Kate’s room. She doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember any of it. Unless she does, and she’s determined not to mention it. Which can only mean she doesn’t feel the same. 

“Hey, Rick.” He’s been ambushed by Beckett’s father. “How was your visit with Katie?” 

“It was...” Castle searches for the words. “...special. I thought I might never see her again, and when I walked in that room...” He’s not playacting this time as he smiles. He remembers drinking in her every movement, her every expression, everything that made her Kate Beckett, kind-hearted cop and badass extraordinaire when he caught his first glimpse of her. If only she was his kind-hearted cop. 

Jim nods, understanding completely. “It’s a miracle. She’s a miracle. Sometimes, what with her job and everything, I think her mother’s spirit must be watching over her all these years, keeping her safe. I’ve long since made my peace with her career choice, but it’s still comforting to think Johanna’s had a hand in her recovery.” 

Castle smiles again. “Yeah, I think she must have.” He pretends to pull out his phone and check the time. “I should be going; I’m supposed to meet Ryan and Esposito at the precinct in fifteen minutes.” He walks past Jim. 

“Rick.” He stops, turns back. “I know Katie’s with Josh right now, but stick around. She needs you more than she lets on, and I think you’d be good for her.” 

It’s as if Jim has read his mind, seen what Castle has been considering, and stamped it out with his boot. Castle stares at him for a second, then nods and continues on his way. He’s not really going to the precinct. He’s going home, back to the loft, to get a pen and paper and try to puzzle Kate out. 

Throughout the day, Kate is never alone. Soon after Castle leaves, her father drops in and sits by her bed. They alternate between chatting about inconsequential things and napping—she’s napping, he’s reading, hopefully not one of Castle’s books—until Lanie arrives, toting with her a handheld mirror and makeup from Kate’s apartment. This small act does wonders to help Kate feel like herself again, and she’s sorry to see Lanie go after only half an hour. Her father returns less than a minute after Lanie steps out of the room and doesn’t leave her side until Esposito knocks on the door. 

“Yo, Beckett, I’m just stopping by to tell you that you’d better get back to the precinct as soon as possible,” Esposito greets her in standard cop-speak. “There’s a lot of paperwork piling up on your desk, and Ryan and I ain’t gonna do it all for you.” 

“Thanks for the sympathy, Espo,” she says, smiling. 

“For what, that tiny chest wound? I’ve had a splinter that hurt worse.” Kate wants to laugh but knows it’s impossible; it hurts too much. 

“Sorry, Espo, I must not have your pain tolerance. After all, what am I next to a big hunk of ex-Special- Forces muscle?” 

Esposito grins. “Listen, we’re doing everything we can to find the guy that put you in here.” 

“I know. But don’t let Castle run away with his crazy theories while I’m not there to stop him. I promise you, this has nothing to do with a CIA sting operation gone wrong or Russian spies.” 

“Castle? Castle hasn’t come by all day; we thought he was with you.” 

“I haven’t seen him since this morning.” She must have upset Castle more than she thought. Could this be the beginning of the end of their partnership? But no, he said he would come back later. Perhaps only to say goodbye? Maybe now that he’s seen her like this, he isn’t interested anymore. Maybe in this state she isn’t enough like Nikki Heat to hold his attention. 

“Huh. Maybe he had to take care of Alexis or something.” She thinks Alexis has school today, but it’s no use arguing the point. “Ryan’s expecting me back soon. Just a head’s up, I think the precinct’s amassing a shipment of flowers to send over here, so be prepared. A whole truck-full.” 

She smiles. “Thanks, Espo.” 

She expects her father to come back once Esposito leaves, but to her surprise he doesn’t show. Seeing how the course of the day went, she half expected her friends to have come up with a visiting schedule to keep her occupied for all hours of the day. She’s glad for some time alone. Her solitary disposition doesn’t coincide well with entertaining people for so long. 

After a minute of marveling at how much she’s been able to stay awake today, sleep overtakes her. When she comes to again, someone is sitting beside her, running their thumb in invisible patterns down her forearm. 

“Hey, you.” Josh. 

“Hey,” she gifts him a smile even though they hurt. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Okay, I guess. Although I wish I could rub my nose.” 

He laughs. “They’ll take you off of oxygen tonight, I promise, when they bring you dinner.” Her boyfriend adopts a mock-serious tone. “Don’t get too excited, you won’t like it much.” 

“Still, it’s one step closer to getting out of here.” 

“Whoa, that won’t happen for a good long while. You just had a bullet removed from your chest that nicked your heart, Kate, you can’t expect to be up and running again so soon.” 

“I...” Her disappointment is clear in her voice. 

“Hey, look. Just let me take care of you for a little while. Once you’re released, I’m planning to take a couple weeks off to help you get back on your feet. The trip to Africa with Dr. Carroll can wait another year.” She frowns. This is all wrong. He shouldn’t be putting his life on hold for her, not when...not when her heart belongs to someone else. 

“No, listen, Josh,” she says. She hates what she’s about to do, but it needs to be done. She can’t take this career opportunity away from him just to use him as a buffer against Castle’s advances. It’s unfair. “I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me. Go do your rounds, go to Africa.” 

“Kate, it’s not a problem. I want to.” She shakes her head, the tubes in her nose tightening uncomfortably. Emotions flash through his face, shock, disbelief. “You’re...you’re breaking up with me? This is it?” 

“I’m sorry, Josh.” She averts her gaze.

“This is about him, isn’t it? Castle. The author you’re always talking about, your partner at the Twelfth.”

“Josh—“ 

“No, I get it, really. I was always second to you. I’m just sorry you finally came ‘round.” He stands suddenly, the rolling stool ricocheting off the cabinet behind him with a bang. She flinches. “God, I was so—“ he stops mid-sentence, tirade stopping as he remembers she’s still in a hospital bed. Stopping as he sees the regret in her eyes, the way she flinches away from his raised voice. “Goodbye, Kate.” He strides out the door. 

Chapter Text

What makes up Kate Beckett? This is the question Castle has been gnashing his teeth over for an hour already, but his paper is still infuriatingly blank. He’s uncapped his favorite gel writing pen for the occasion, black ink that can look midnight blue at just the right angle. It reminds him of murder scenes, how looking at the clues just the right way can lead to solving them. It is just the pen he needs to figure Beckett out. He’s also turned his phone off for good measure. For this, he needs complete concentration. 

What does he know about her? He knows she’s a cop. He knows her mother was murdered. He knows she likes her coffee as a Grande skim latte, two pumps sugar-free vanilla. 

But none of that helps him puzzle her out. Or maybe it will. Maybe the key is hidden somewhere in the basic facts he knows about her. It’s hard because her mind is so foreign to him. She’s a constant surprise, and he’s always finding new aspects of her he never would have expected. Will he ever know the full and unabridged Kate Beckett? Will he ever, as she put it so eloquently three years ago, peel off all the layers of the Beckett onion? 

Well, he thinks, it starts right here, right now. Where to begin... He decides to start even before the defining moment in her life. He makes the first bullet point. She’s an only child and grew up in Manhattan in a fairly well-off family, though she went to public school. Stuyvesant, he remembers. Stuyvesant High School, reserved for highly gifted students. What were her interests as a kid or as a teenager? From the murdered magician’s case he knows she was fascinated with magic. She was a fan of comic books, which he never pegged her for. Because of her father, she was also a baseball fan. Unlike most girls her age, she modeled instead of waitressed for a summer job. And, of course, she had her “wild days” that she staunchly refuses to drop more than vague hints about. 

Then there are her college years. She studied pre-law at Stanford—probably influenced by her mother’s career, he thinks—and spent a semester studying in Kiev. She dreamt of becoming the first female Chief Justice of the Supreme Court before...before her mother’s murder. 

Johanna Beckett’s murder is most important. It’s that moment in her life where everything changed, her hopes, her aspirations. Castle tries to imagine the effect losing her mother might have had on Kate, but he cannot. He never knew his father and imagining Martha gone when he was nineteen doesn’t work so well either. He has the feeling that Kate and Johanna had a much closer bond than he and his mother did even if it was just because it was a mother-daughter relationship. Castle is an expert on mother-son and father-daughter through Martha and Alexis, but he can barely guess at the true depth of loss Kate felt at the death of her mother. 

After that there is just saving her father from alcoholism and her life as a cop. He can’t help but feel like he’s missing something somewhere, because the pieces aren’t making sense. None of this explains why if she does love him, she won’t say so. Didn’t she just have an up-close and personal demonstration on why she can’t afford to wait? After that brief moment of doubt at the hospital, Castle refuses to consider the possibility that she doesn’t love him back. He can’t face that thought yet. He also rejects the idea that she doesn’t remember. When it comes to life-changing moments...people don’t just forget. 

“Richard, I’m ho-ome!” The door slams a little harder than he would have liked. “Richard? Oh, there you are.” 

“Hello, Mother,” he greets her, hiding his paper under one of the couch cushions. “What are you up to? Writing?” 

“No.” A thought occurs to him. “Although only because I’m stuck on this plot point. If you, say, loved a man who also loved you back, what are reasons you wouldn’t tell him you loved him?” 

“Richard,” Martha admonishes. “Are we talking about two characters or you and Detective Beckett?”

“Characters,” Castle replies firmly. 

“I have raised you, Richard Castle, you cannot hide from me. You—tragically—did not inherit my great acting skills. Now, what is this really about?” 

“Fine, it’s about Beckett and me.” 

Martha sits on the other end of the couch, disposing of her flashy handbag on the coffee table. “How do you think she knows you love her if you haven’t told her? Have I taught you nothing? You have to tell a woman how you feel, subtlety means nothing—“ 

“I did.” 

That stops her, her mouth hanging open as she processes his words. “When?” 

“At the cemetery. After she was shot.” 

“Does she remember? It was a very traumatic event.” 

“She says she doesn’t, but I don’t quite believe her.” 

“Then you have to tell her!” 

His deepest fear, the one that he had refused to consider, just kind of spills out. “Mother, what if I’m wrong? What if she doesn’t love me after all?” 

“Richard Castle, a woman does not put up with a man like you for three years, go to his silly parties and poker games if she doesn’t love him. Now you have to—“ 

“Put up with a man like—no, that’s not the point. It’s just...if she says no, then it’s the end.” He swallows. “There’s no going back from this. If she says no, then it’s the end of my days at the precinct, working her cases; it’s the end of Nikki Heat. I can’t walk into that place every day knowing that she doesn’t love me back, that all this I’m feeling is unrequited.” 

“But is that worse than living in miserable ignorance?” 

Castle pauses, considering. “All right, I’ll talk to Beckett.” 

All he knows as he drives to the hospital and walks down the hallway towards her room is that his hands are shaking with nervous tension and half his resolve is gone. There are voices coming from her room where two armed police officers wait outside. They size him up as he approaches. 

“No, listen, Josh,” she says. He slows down, listening intently. Her voice is tired and strained. “I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me. Go do your rounds, go to Africa.” 

“Kate, it’s not a problem. I want to,” the doctor replies. There’s a pause. “You’re...you’re breaking up with me? This is it?” 

Castle stops in his tracks, unable to believe what he’s hearing. Jim and Martha were right after all. Kate does love him. He’s so glad he could start dancing, right there in the hallway. 

“I’m sorry, Josh.” She sounds exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. 

“This is about him, isn’t it? Castle. The author you’re always talking about, your partner at the Twelfth.” Josh’s voice is rising in pitch and volume. 

“Josh—“ 

“No, I get it, really. I was always second to you. I’m just sorry you finally came ‘round.” There’s a loud banging sound. “God, I was so—“ he stops for a second, then in a quieter, calmer tone says, “Goodbye, Kate.” He strides out the door, coming face to face with Castle. 

Josh’s eyes narrow, and Castle wonders if he’ll punch him in the face again, give him a bruise on his left to match his other cheek. But the MD just glares at him before pushing roughly past him and continuing on his way. 

Castle rounds the corner with a big smile but stops dead again at the expression on Kate’s face. Forlorn. Lost. Regretful. 

She looks up suddenly to see him, surprise registering in her eyes. She hastily wipes away what he thinks is a tear, saying, “What are you doing here, Castle?” Her voice is defensive, and it’s not how he expected to be treated at all. 

He looks at her carefully. Her face is pale and drawn. Unlike before, she’s wearing makeup again. It had been a shock to see her without it, not because it diminished her beauty in any way, shape, or form, but because it made her seem more...vulnerable. A word she would never sanction use of in reference to her. 

Now, however, she looks a little like a dog that’s been kicked too many times. The only part of her that vaguely resembles Detective Beckett is the fierceness in her eyes as she waits for his response. 

“I said I would come by again, later,” he replies. “I saw Josh...leaving. Is everything okay?” He pretends he didn’t hear any of the conversation, trying to respect her privacy as much as he can. “Storming out” would be a more accurate description of what Josh just did. 

“Everything’s fine, Castle,” she says unconvincingly.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He’s serious. He wants to give her someone to open up to. She’s obviously not fine, and despite her evasions and forced happiness he doesn’t think she’s comfortable here. Kate looks at him, weighing the truth and sincerity of his words. “I’m just tired, Castle. They’ve started taking me down a notch on pain meds and I’m not sleeping so well anymore.” 

“Are you having nightmares?” She doesn’t seem inclined to say any more, just sigh and close her eyes. What he has to say can wait until she’s more rested, more up for it. Now that she’s broken up with Josh, he finds that he doesn’t mind the wait. “I’ll stay with you if you want, so you can get some rest. Maybe someone sitting with you will help keep the nightmares at bay.” 

“No,” her eyes are open again. “You should go home. Be with Alexis, Martha.” 

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly, standing to leave. He’d forgotten a key thing about Detective Beckett. She doesn’t let anyone in. Ever. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

“Do you mind if we don’t?” Her words stop him in the doorway. “I just...I just need a little time.” 

“Sure,” he says, hating every word. “How much time?” 

“I’ll call you, okay?” 

He looks at her with hurt and longing for a moment but nods. “Of course.” He leaves her, lying there in her bed in the hospital. And once he’s out of her room, he doesn’t look back. 

Jim was wrong after all. She may not want Josh, but she doesn’t want him either. 

He makes it back to the loft on autopilot, sinking down on the couch with his phone in hand. Why did she send him away? What on Earth had he done wrong? Even if his romantic feelings are unrequited, why does it feel like their friendship has just ended as well? 

That’s the worst part. He doesn’t know. Which means he doesn’t know how to fix it. 

Kate slumps back on the pillows, crying for real now. She hadn’t meant to send Castle away, it just...happened. He had caught her in one of her weakest moments, and she had reacted defensively. Retreated back into her shell. But she can’t even call him back now, because he’ll want an explanation. And Castle is the last person she can explain these feelings to. 

Tears still streak her face when Lanie returns, and she doesn’t even try to hide them from her best friend. “Oh, Kate...” Lanie breathes. She takes Kate’s hand in hers, brushes a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “What happened, honey?” 

“I broke up with Josh,” Kate says softly. Crying is just making her chest hurt more. 

“For Castle?”

“I sent him away too.” 

“I’m so sorry, Kate,” Lanie says, sympathy brimming in her eyes. She squeezes Kate’s hand. Unlike everyone else, Lanie doesn’t require an explanation. 

“I’ve started to have nightmares, too, ever since they started cutting back the drugs. I see their faces every time I close my eyes.” 

“Whose faces?”

“Montgomery. My mom. Raglan.” 

“You should try to get some sleep, Kate. I’m going to stay right here, so you don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“No, you don’t have to—“

“I want to. Perlmutter can take my shift at the morgue, okay?” 

“Okay.” She sounds like a small child. She knows saying no to Lanie won’t do any good anyway. She closes her eyes. 

A shot rings in her ears. There are sirens and screams coming from all directions. Everything’s fading away again, this blackness swallowing her. She’ll never see any of them again. 

Kate jolts awake with her nails digging into Lanie’s skin. The ME doesn’t seem to mind. “Don’t be scared, Kate. I’m right here,” she tries to reassure her. 

“Why does this keep happening?” she asks. “Why do I have to keep reliving it, over and over again?” 

“This isn’t really my area of expertise,” Lanie looks uneasy. “But I would guess that it’s some form of PTSD. You should talk to Javi about it; he has some experience.” 

“M’kay,” says Kate noncommittally. Unfortunately, Lanie knows her too well for that to fly. 

“Nightmares are nothing to be ashamed of, Kate. Neither is PTSD. So don’t toss away help because you think we’ll see you differently.” 

“Okay, I won’t,” Kate promises. “But really, you should get back to the morgue.” 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Kate?”

“I’m sure.” She gives her friend a brave smile. “Go.” 

With an uncertain glance, the ME reluctantly leaves. Kate settles back on the pillows again, dreading falling asleep. After only a few moments, her eyes flick open. A new determination fills her, the likes of which she hasn’t felt since she first arrived in the hospital. The kind she hasn’t felt since she died. 

She will get through this. She will put Castle out of her mind and concentrate all her energies on getting better, getting back to the precinct. She doesn’t need anybody else’s help for this, not now that she’s found her strength again. This is the resolve that allows her to solve every murder case. This is the iron-hard resolve that fuels Detective Beckett. 

This is the resolve that will allow her to become Detective Beckett once again. 

Chapter Text

Castle sits at his computer, fuming. He’s got a half a page typed out of Heat Rises, but he’s going to have to scrap the section anyway. He can’t bear to write about Nikki right now, so he had tried writing a scene using Roach. It ended up culminating with Raley getting shot. He has bullets on the brain. 

His phone rings. When he had gotten home from the hospital, he had two missed calls from Esposito and one from Ryan. Late that night, Lanie called, but he ignored that one as well. Castle picks up the phone to see Caller ID. Gina. 

“Castle,” he answers through gritted teeth. 

“Hello, Rick,” she says in her usual drawl. “You promised me a Heat Rises manuscript through chapter fourteen due last Saturday.” 

“I know,” he says. “I got caught up in a case.” 

“Well, now that the muse is held up in the hospital, have you made any progress?” Anger flares in him at the casual delivery of that statement. 

“Beckett was shot. No, I haven’t made much progress, Gina.”

“Come on, Rick. You’ve done three years of research on that woman; you have more than enough to complete Heat Rises and then some. Do I need to remind you that you’re under contract?” 

“I’m perfectly aware,” he spits out. 

”I’ll give you three weeks, Rick. But I want the entire thing on my desk by midnight on the eleventh.” He’s silent. “Rick? This isn’t really optional.” 

“Fine,” he agrees. He hangs up before his ex-wife and publisher can say another word.

Castle turns back to his laptop, which has gone to his “You Should Be Writing” screensaver. Everyone keeps trying to tell him what he should be doing. 

“Stick around,” said Jim. 

“Tell her how you feel,” said Martha. 

“Don’t come back tomorrow,” said Kate. 

“Get that manuscript finished,” said Gina. 

And now even his laptop is giving him orders. 

What if he doesn’t want to do any of this stuff? He closes the lid of his laptop with a slight bang and pulls open the study door. He grabs his coat off the rack. 

“Dad, where are you going?” He hadn’t realized a certain red-head was still awake and seated on the couch. “To the precinct,” he says without looking at her. 

“It’s awfully late. Are you sure you shouldn’t just wait until morning?” Alexis asks. He doesn’t notice the forlorn looks she keeps giving to her phone or the dribble of smeared mascara that indicates she’s been crying. He’s wholly wrapped up in his own little world of Beckett and manuscripts and more Beckett. 

“No,” Castle replies, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t wait up.” 

He exits the loft and hails a taxi, directing the driver to take him to Smithies’, a bar he’s never been to but has heard a lot about. He needs somewhere to go that’s not a cop bar, somewhere that no one will think of looking for him. He doesn’t want to be bothered by anyone right now. 

Upon entering the establishment, Castle promptly sits down on a stool and orders a drink. His mind has just achieved “little bit foggy” when a shadow looms over him. He looks up to see Josh. 

“Well, if it isn’t Richard Castle.” Josh’s face is contorted with emotion. Castle eyes him warily. “I’m not here for a fight. Walk away, and nobody gets hurt.” 

Josh leans in closer, his face only inches away from Castle’s. “What if I’ve already been hurt? Can it hurt any worse than this? And it’s. All. Your. Fault!” He embellishes this last part by slamming his hand down on the bar. The MD’s hot breath reeks of liquor. 

Castle slowly stands to face Josh, whose face is flushed red. 

“Take it outside, gents,” says the bartender uneasily. Neither Castle nor Josh move a muscle as they stare each other down. 

“You just wouldn’t let go, even when she was with someone else!” Josh bursts out. 

“You were never there for her with all your trips to other countries!” 

“You encouraged her to look into her mother’s case!” That stops Castle in his tracks, because it’s true. He is partially responsible for Beckett getting shot. He pushed her further in. 

Josh pulls back his arm to take a swing. Before Castle knows it, Josh has been knocked to the side and his right knuckles are on fire. Punch me once, shame on you, he thinks. Punch me me twice, shame on me. The words echo with a melancholy strain because he knows exactly where he’s said them—or words very much like them—before. 

Shouts come from the bar, but both men pay no heed to them. Josh spits a bit of blood out of his mouth and then takes another swing at Castle, who steps out of the way while grabbing an empty beer bottle from behind the counter. Josh yells in rage as he barrels into Castle, driving him into the side of the bar. 

The wind knocked out of him, Castle can only stand there blinking for a moment. Then he tries to bring the bottle down on Josh’s head except he misses and connects with his shoulder. The glass shatters everywhere and Josh socks Castle in the side of the mouth. With one massive push, Castle shoves his assailant out the door of Smithies’ and follows him outside. 

“You. Were. The. Only. Thing. Keeping. Us. Apart. For. A. Whole. Year!” Castle shouts, accentuating each word with a punch to the stomach. 

Josh looks like he’s had enough as he hobbles to his feet. “If you love her so much, then what are you doing drinking in a bar instead of sitting with her?” He spits another bit of blood out onto the sidewalk, a wild frenzy in his eyes. “What, did she send you away too? At least when she was with me, she was sure of my intentions!” The battered MD turns on his heel and stalks off, leaving Castle standing on the sidewalk alone. He can feel a bruise forming on his back and mouth, and he can taste blood. 

Castle’s had enough for one night too. He hails another cab back to the loft, wiping away the blood on his face with his coat sleeve. Luckily neither Martha nor Alexis are in the living room when he arrives, and he retires immediately to his bedroom. For the first time in a long four days, he falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow. 

In his dream, he’s wandering through the loft trying to find the source of the endless music. It inexplicably bothers him and seems to be coming from upstairs, where Alexis might have left it playing or something. Every time he walks up the stairs to check, however, he finds himself walking through front door in an infinitesimal loop. Something bad will happen if he doesn’t shut it up. He just knows it. 

Castle awakes slowly from the dream, but the infernal music hasn’t stopped. Blearily his hands fumbles inside his jacket and removes his cell phone from within. He can’t even read the Caller ID but answers it anyway in his very best grumpy-sleepy-why-did-you-wake-me-up voice. “Castle.” 

“Rick! Rick! I’ve been calling you all morning! Have you seen what they’ve published on page six?!”

“Paula,” he says, sitting up. “Paula, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, so you thought it was a good idea to just mosey into some bar and start punching somebody?” 

Oh, no. Oh, no. Castle bolts off the bed and out into the living room, opening the door to retrieve the morning paper. He spreads it out on the kitchen counter. Paula won’t stop jabbering in his ear. “You at least could have told me, Rick. A simple, ‘hey Paula, I made a mistake, so here’s what’s going to be in tomorrow’s paper’ would have been nice.” But Castle’s set the phone down. He’s not listening to her high-pitched tirade anymore. 

Could millionaire playboy Richard Castle have turned home-wrecker as well? In the past it appears that Richard Castle has refrained from chasing the married types, but as of the bar fight at Smithies’ last night it appears no conquest is too heinous for the best-selling author. He and an unidentified man were caught throwing punches—and beer bottles—at each other, fighting over an also unidentified woman. Who is this man, and who is this potential next fling of Castle’s? Or could this mystery woman turn into wife #3? 

Accompanying the miniature article is a blurry photo picturing Castle smashing a beer bottle into Josh’s shoulder. Josh’s back is to the camera, but it’s not enough to stop Ryan or Esposito—or, even worse, Beckett —from identifying him easily. 

“Paula,” he picks up the phone again. “Is there anything you can do about this?” 

“Well, I would have been able to had you told me last night!” 

“I forgot, I’m sorry,” he says. Though he does mean it, it might have the added benefit of making her lose the screechy tone. “Still, you have a lot of connections. Is there anything you can do to at least make it...die down a little?” 

“It’s already printed; it’s already out there, Rick,” she tells him. “Maybe I can keep the smaller papers from latching on and reprinting it, but it won’t be easy.” 

“You’re a life-saver, Paula,” he says. 

“And don’t you forget it.” There’s a click and she’s gone. Castle slumps over the counter. It’s still early in the morning but already Castle feels like an entire day has past. His back is sore and he decides just to go back to sleep. On his way he’s ambushed by Martha. 

“Richard, what are you doing up so early? Going to see Detective Beckett?” 

“No, Mother, just thinking,” he lies. 

“About what?” she pries. “You don’t look happy; is everything all right between you two? Is it about what I said yesterday?” 

“What did you say yesterday?” He honestly doesn’t remember; yesterday feels like a million years ago. 

“Richard, when I said a woman would have to be in love with you to put up with you for three years, I didn’t mean it as an insult.” Oh. That. “No, really. Inside you are a deeply loving, deeply caring man. I just meant...sometimes people can look at you and not see all that. Sometimes the childish, playboy side of you—or your reputation as such—masks your abundant finer qualities.” 

“I know, Mother,” he says. He can’t say that the comment didn’t hurt at the time, but he wasn’t overly bothered by it. Clearly Martha has given it much more thought and credence than him and is quite determined to get it off her chest. 

“Kate Beckett would be lucky to have a man like you, Richard.” 

He cuts her off before she can say any more, really just wanting to be alone right now. He doesn’t need a list of a million reasons why Kate should be with him—he’s already created one of his own, and a fat lot of good it did him. “I knew what you meant,” he promises her. “Besides, if I took it as an insult, I would’ve kicked you out of the loft right then and there.” 

She pinches his cheek. “That’s my boy.” 

Castle walks past her and into his bedroom. “I’ve had a long four days; I think I’m just going to back to sleep.” She nods agreeably and he closes the door again. Once he’s lying down, however, he finds it isn’t quite that easy. 

Beckett refrains from fidgeting as the doctor slides the IV needle out of her arm. 

“Last one, there you go,” the doctor smiles. He has already removed the oxygen tubes from her nostrils. Despite her aversion to needles, that procedure wins the prize for most invasive in her opinion. But now she’s just glad they’re out. 

She flexes her fingers experimentally, examining the dark dot that betrays the puncture wound. “Can I sit up?” Her father next to her looks uneasy. 

“Katie, maybe you should wait a while.” Jim turns to the doctor for backup. 

The doctor eyes her. “We’ve already raised the top part of the bed by two inches. I wouldn’t recommend putting it up any more than that in this stage of your recovery.” 

“Because it’ll be damaging or because it’ll hurt?” Her voice is monotone, every syllable stressing the command she possesses over her body and mind. She will not allow fear, and she will not tolerate weakness. 

“It might not be damaging, but it definitely will be painful.” 

“Raise the bed.” The doctor looks at her for a second and then nods to the nurse. The machine whirrs as it props her up slowly, and Beckett knows he meant what he said about it being painful. It hurts. A lot. But not enough to request to go back to the way it was. 

She grits her teeth and breathes in as big a breath as she can manage, stretching her ribcage painfully. Her wound objects loudly, assailing her with flashes of heat and red. “What exactly is the plan for my recovery? By your estimate, when is the earliest I can be released?” She phrases it in such a way that it’s clear she’s just asking for his professional opinion. Letting him know that if she wants to leave, nothing’s going to stop her. 

“Right now, we’re just focused on you regaining some of your strength and not damaging the wound any further. Most patients aren’t as active or alert as you are in this stage. Next will be physical therapy, where you’ll do exercises that won’t be too stressful for your body and exceedingly gentle on your wound. Even something as simple as taking a step will be extraordinarily hard when you first begin.” 

“Why can’t we start physical therapy right now? I’m ready.” 

“Any physical activity on your part in this stage would be extremely detrimental. Your wound is too fragile for even the lightest of exercises.” 

Beckett scowls at this, expressing her displeasure at these restrictions. The doctor smiles and pats her arm. “Relax and enjoy the extra time off. You’ll be out of here soon enough.” 

As he walks out of the room with the nurse trailing him, Beckett’s fingers curl around the hem of the blanket. “Soon enough” would have been twelve hours ago. She hates being dependent on people and things. She hates being dependent on the hospital staff for her recovery. She hates being dependent on Lanie to bring her books to occupy her time. She hates being reliant on a metal pan to go to the bathroom. 

After a moment of self-indulgence, Beckett reasserts her formidable mental discipline. Do not think about the negatives. Do not think about the shooting. 

Do not think about Castle. 

She’s still exerting her mental control when Ryan, Esposito, and Lanie arrive. Lanie immediately gives her a questioning look, but Kate shakes her head. No, she hasn’t talked to Espo yet about PTSD. Using the group setting as an excuse not to delve into the topic, she asks, “So, what’s going on? You guys get stuck on a case and need my help?” 

“Not exactly,” Ryan says, “we just wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing. Pretty quiet week for murders, actually.” 

“There is something else we wanted to talk to you about, Beckett,” Esposito says. All of a sudden Kate finds it odd that they’re all there, together, and her father isn’t leaving like he normally does when she has visitors but leaning back in his chair thoughtfully with an intense look in his eyes. “We can’t get in contact with Castle.” 

“We’ve all tried, but writer-boy won’t pick up,” Lanie says. Lanie knows exactly why Castle isn’t picking up. She’s giving her best significant-subliminal-message look to Kate that clearly says, “Don’t blame me; they forced me to come along.” 

“So we were wondering whether you’d heard from him,” Esposito continues. “It’d be just like Castle to go off on his own and try to track down the sniper by himself.” She stiffens at the word as a hole is ripped in her chest again, but her muscles are locked so tight with self-restraint that she doesn’t think any of them notice. 

“And if he is, we’d like to know so we can head him off,” Ryan finishes. “Castle’s not known for keeping his head in these types of situations. It sounds exactly like something he’d do.” 

“Yes,” Kate lies. “He was in here this morning.” 

“I didn’t see him,” Jim interjects. 

“He didn’t stay long,” Beckett replies, “just a quick pop-in. I think...I think he said something about a book deadline. Maybe that’s why he’s AWOL?” She hates lying to both her dad and her team, but they’ve given her no choice in the matter. As much as they care about her and she them, what happened with Castle is none of their business. “He came by while you were getting breakfast.” Lanie gives her an exasperated look but doesn’t comment. She sees right through the lie. Ryan and Esposito, however...they are detectives, but her poker face is as good as Castle’s. They might suspect something’s amiss. They might not. 

“All right, I guess we shouldn’t worry about him too much,” Ryan says. 

“If we still haven’t heard from him I’ll stop by his place tomorrow after work,” Esposito agrees. “The dude can’t ignore us if we’re banging on his door.” 

The thought fills Kate with dread but she forces herself to smile. “Benefits of being a cop.” 

There’s something bothering him, preventing him from falling back into the emptiness of sleep. It swirls around in his brain evading capture, teasing him and haunting him and remaining elusive. Whenever he thinks he has it, it slips out of his grasp again like a fish. 

It has something to do with the fight, he thinks, rolling over onto his side. He cups his elbow and uses it as extension of his pillow to rest his head on. Was it something he did? No, neither of them did much more than exchange blows. Something he said? 

At least when she was with me, she was sure of my intentions... The words float back into his mind and a pang in his heart tells him that these are the ones that have been giving him so much grief. Sure of his intentions? What were Josh’s intentions? Castle can discern no other motive in their relationship besides the simple fact that Josh loved her. Was that what he meant by intentions? How are his own any different? 

I love her too, he thinks. More than Josh does, or ever did. Josh had only been with her for less than a year, while Castle has three years of pent up love for Kate. Was Josh implying that Kate didn’t know of his intentions? He had told her he loved her, what else did she need? 

He weighs this new revelation against everything he knows about her, everything he put on that list from yesterday. On a whim he adds in Martha’s observations as well to the mix. He starts chronologically, from the moment they met. What had she thought when she first met him? 

He had been offering a drink to his fifteen-year-old daughter. Well, that can’t have been the greatest first impression ever. He knows she’s a fan of his books, which probably meant she knew him as the papers knew him—a man of numerous flings, conquests, and even a couple of failed marriages to boot. And he had cemented that idea of him in her mind by...hitting on her. “I’d be happy to let you spank me” comes to mind. 

He’d like to think that everything he did after that commuted those first few cases where she wasn’t any more than a hot new woman to chase. He’d like to think that saving her life multiple times and spending $100,000 of his own money to find her mother’s killer would have demonstrated that he’s in it for the long haul. But Josh seems to be insinuating that it wasn’t enough. That she doubts his intentions, and is thus nipping their possible romance in the bud to save herself the emotional pain later. 

And here Castle is now, lying on his bed and longing for her. Pining. 

He sits up, lethargy gone. She’s pushed him away, but he’s not going anywhere. Even if she isn’t going to fight for this relationship, he is. And he isn’t going to stop fighting until they actually get somewhere, wherever that might be. Hashed out, clear where they both stand, and if he’s right about her, maybe even starting something new. He owes it to himself, and to her, and to three years of partnership to try, because deep down he has trust that maybe it’s what she wants too. 

Chapter Text

Physical therapy is hell. Standing up is hell. She had been fighting the wheelchair idea on the way to her session, but now she’s not complaining anymore. Far from it. 

Even with a bar to haul herself up on, more than ten seconds on her feet caused her head to grow dizzy and that wasn’t even trying to walk yet. Never in her life has she been so tired and so weak. Her mental and physical discipline is gone; she’s back to dwelling on the fact that Castle’s not here to take her hand and tell her she’s still beautiful. Tremors run up her hands and her legs won’t stop shaking. The nurse helps her back into bed, and she can’t even tell Jim how it went before she’s asleep. The doctor had been right. Her body wasn’t ready to take that much strain. Not by a long shot. 

Castle walks out of the elevator to find himself face to face with everyday life. He doesn’t know what he expected at the precinct—just something that recognized Beckett’s absence a little more. Everywhere there is a bustle of activity. As he approaches her desk, he sees that it’s been cleared and cleaned. The only thing left of her is her lonely name plaque. At least there’s not another detective sitting at her desk, he thinks. 

“Hey, bro,” someone says from behind. Castle turns to greet Esposito with Ryan following close behind. “Where you been?” 

“Writing,” Castle lies with a smile. His go-to answer. 

Ryan’s expression changes to one of panic as he looks over Castle’s shoulder. “Quick, get over here before Gates sees you.” He tugs Castle over to their desks, pulling up a chair for him. Castle spots a newspaper sitting open on Ryan’s and picks it up. “Nice article, by the way,” Ryan eyes him. 

Esposito snatches up the paper to read it for himself and then whistles. “You and Josh lit on each other?” 

“Yeah...” Castle says in a mock-apologetic voice. He regrets nothing regarding hitting Josh. “Listen, don’t tell Beckett.” 

“Well, I dunno...” Ryan ponders, taking the paper from his partner and neatly folding it up. “It kinda seems like something she should know about.” 

“Please, guys...” 

Esposito’s eyes narrow. “Ferrari for a week.” 

“Deal.” 

“Each.” 

“Fine.” 

Ryan dumps a couple of manila case files on top of the newspaper, settling the matter. “So, we got a lead on the sniper—“ 

“What is going on here?” A short, dark-skinned woman with glasses and a no-nonsense attitude is striding toward them, exuding her displeasure and blatant disapproval with every step. “Detective Ryan, are you about to leak information about an ongoing investigation to a civilian?” 

Esposito swears under his breath. “Captain Gates, this is Richard Castle. He was Detective Beckett’s partner.” 

Gates appraises Castle for a millisecond with hawk eyes and then asks, “Detective Beckett is currently on medical leave. What is he doing here?” 

“I wanted to help with the case,” Castle interjects. Ryan shakes his head aggressively behind Gates’s back. 

“I don’t know what kind of shop Roy Montgomery was running here, Mr. Castle, but there is no room for untrained writers on the side. You need to leave. Detectives Ryan and Esposito, get back to work. One of our own has been shot, and no one gets away with shooting a police officer. Do you understand me?” 

“With all due respect sir,” Ryan begins, “Castle has worked with the NYPD for three years; he can handle himself. He’s actually helped solve a lot of murders already—we could use the extra eyes for this.” 

“You will have all the resources of the NYPD at your disposal, but I will not allow a civilian to be caught in the crosshairs. Go home, Mr. Castle.” 

“We won’t let him get hurt, Captain,” Esposito says.

“I’ve already signed my life away in a waiver from three years ago,” Castle adds helpfully. 

“The homicide division is a community, a family,” Ryan continues in his most persuasive voice. “Castle’s been part of this community for three years. He’s one of us.” 

Castle raises his right palm. “I promise I’ll stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here.” 

“Uh huh,” Gates says slowly, glaring at Castle from over the rims of her glasses. “All right, but for this one case only.” 

“Quiet as a mouse.” Gates gives him another unfriendly stare before stalking away. Castle turns to Ryan and Esposito. “So, you were saying about leads?” 

Ryan waits until Gates is back in her office before answering. “Seeing as we can’t investigate McCallister, Raglan, and Montgomery in the precinct without Gates opening up a full investigation, not much. We recovered the sniper rifle from the crime scene, but, unfortunately, no prints. Lab ran a trace for DNA and came up with nothing, but we’ve asked them to run it again.” 

“Why? Did they miss something?” 

“No, not that we know of. But we just want to be sure,” Esposito answers. “As for the gun itself, according to the DOD the serial number matches a weapon that was issued to one Martin Holst, a Navy Seal that was killed in action seven years ago. His body was recovered in a subsequent mission but the weapon was not.” 

“What about the shooter? The cemetery was a sea of cops; how did he go unnoticed?” Castle has so many questions spinning through his brain that he thinks it might burst. 

“Dogs picked up a scent and traced it to the west side of the cemetery, but they lost it there.” Ryan looks decidedly unhappy. “He may not have gone unnoticed at all; half the guys we talked to remembered seeing a groundskeeper taking cover from the shooter behind a tree. But according to the grounds staff, none of them were there.” 

“He blended in during the chaos and then disappeared,” Esposito agrees. “Right now we’re pretty much stuck; we’ve got no more—“ 

Castle’s cell phone rings and the author makes a dive in his pocket for it, scrambling to accept her call before it goes to voicemail. But it’s not Kate. It’s a blocked number. “Castle.” 

“We need to talk, so listen carefully,” says the voice on the other end. It is deep and gravelly, and unmistakably male. 

“Who is this?” Castle cuts in. 

“It doesn’t matter who I am. All you need to know is that to keep Detective Beckett safe, you must to prevent her from investigating any more of her mother’s case.” 

“What? How do you know about that? How do you know about any of this?” 

“I was a friend of Montgomery’s back in the day. I owe him my life, and in return, I’ll do this favor for him. Before he died, Montgomery sent me some files that, if released to the public, will hurt some very powerful people. He was using them as a threat to keep his family and Detective Beckett safe.” 

“Then why was she shot?” 

“Unfortunately, he underestimated the interlude between his death and the day I received the package. I assure you that Detective Beckett will not be harmed now, on one condition: she must not go near the case. Otherwise I cannot guarantee her safety.” 

“How do I know I can trust you?” 

“Do you have a choice?” The man lets those words hang there for a second, then continues. “I will tell you this: even you, with all your contacts and resources, could not stand up to these people. This file is the only way she will ever know peace again.” 

“Okay,” Castle says finally. “I understand. How do I get in contact with you, if I need your help?” 

“You don’t.” There’s a click and the man is gone, like he never even existed. Except for the fact that Ryan and Esposito are staring at him with identical bemused expressions on their faces. 

“Dude, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ryan tells him. “Bathroom. Now,” Castle takes them by their sleeves and pulls them towards it. 

“Bro, what are you doing?” Esposito protests. Once the door is closed, Castle checks underneath each of the stalls for occupants. “Why are you dragging us in here? Only teenage girls go to the bathroom in packs.” 

“What I’m about to tell you, you have to swear not to tell Beckett.” The gravity of his expression deters more complaining and Ferrari-bargaining. 

“Dude, what’s going on?” 

“Promise.” He stares the down as they look at him uncertainly. “Come on, guys. I need you in on this. Do you trust me?” 

“Yeah,” says Esposito after a moment, and Ryan nods. 

“That call was from a friend of Montgomery’s. He said he had received a package from Montgomery himself containing files that would keep Beckett and Montgomery’s family safe. However, the deal he has with the men after her only remains in effect if she stays away from the case.” 

“Then we can’t let her get anywhere near this case,” Ryan states immediately. The quickness of his words and finality of his tone more than anything portray his care for Beckett, not often expressed so boldly. 

“But bro, the first thing she’ll want to do when she gets back here is take a run at it!” Esposito sighs. “Even Montgomery recognized that he couldn’t keep her the hell away from her mother’s case, which is why he let her look into it in the first place!” 

“We have plenty of time to figure this out before she gets back,” says Castle. They both look at him. “What?” 

“It’s gonna be up to you, dude,” Esposito says flatly. “You’re the only one with enough pull to stop her.” The unspoken message is just as clear: she loves you, so you’ll have the best chance at getting her to listen. They don’t know what happened the day before the shooting. 

“I tried, before Montgomery was killed; she didn’t listen,” Castle tells them hollowly. “I held her down with my hand cupped over her mouth as Montgomery was shot to death. After what happened last time...I’m not sure I can hold her back again.” 

“What happened last time is you saved her life,” Esposito tells him firmly. 

“She...cares about you a lot, Castle,” Ryan reminds him. Both of them are surreptitiously avoiding the word ‘love.’ “I think she’ll listen.” 

“I think you’re wrong,” Castle warns them. They’ve underestimated her drive. But then again, they haven’t seen the fire in her eyes when she works on her mother’s case. They haven’t seen her true fervor, sometimes bordering on insanity. They don’t know about the consecutive all-nighters she pulls, just sitting with her legs tucked up to her chest in front of her own personal murder board set up in her window. Castle is the only one who has seen her like this. 

“Wait a second, guys,” Ryan interrupts Castle’s morbid train of thought. “If she has to stay away from the case, does that mean we do too?” 

“I’m not about to let it go,” Castle answers him. “But we can’t do it like this. The precinct isn’t covert enough; they’d see us coming from a mile away. The man on the phone is using files to bargain for her life, which means the answers she’s searching for do exist—in those files. We have to work quietly, behind the scenes, to uncover the truth behind her mother’s murder and her shooting.” 

“How do we halt the investigation here?” Ryan asks. “Even if we go to Gates and tell her we’ve got squat— which we pretty much do—you’ll be kicked out of the precinct.” 

“Until Beckett gets back.” 

“And then we’ll have to do this behind her back as well.” 

“I don’t like this...” Ryan murmurs. “It feels wrong to keep such a big, important secret from her.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Castle replies. “If it keeps her safe, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. If we tell her about the deal, she’ll only take off chasing the man on the phone. So we don’t.” 

When Castle arrives home after working with Ryan and Esposito all day and sneaking a box of evidence and case files out of the precinct, he finds the bottom floor empty. He sets the box down in the office and closes the door to prevent anyone from snooping on his planned late-night activity. Then he heads up the stairs, calling, “Alexis? Mother?” 

Though no one answers, light peeks out from underneath Alexis’s door. Castle opens it softly to find his daughter curled up on top of her bed, calculus book at the foot of it and phone clenched tightly in her fist. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her makeup smeared. He brushes a hand over her shoulder. “Alexis.” 

She stirs, pulling herself into a sitting position. “Dad...I didn’t realize you got home.”

He sits on the edge of her bed and she scooches over to make room. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” 

She hesitates before letting it all burst out in one confused jumble. “It’s Ashley. I keep calling him but every time he either answers and says he has to go or doesn’t pick up at all. I think he’s avoiding me at school because I never see him anymore. It’s just, things were going so great a few days ago, and now I’m wondering if there were signs that I didn’t see because I was too worried about Detective Beckett and you and finals and all the crazy stuff going on right now. Ashley never ignores my calls, Dad, ever!” 

“I’m sorry, Alexis—“ 

“And I just confirmed my going to Stanford after next semester on early admission but I only did it for him and if we’re not together I don’t know what I’m going to do!” She’s breathless with tears leaking out of her eyes, while Castle’s mind is still trying to catch up. “Dad, I don’t want to go alone!” 

“Alexis...sometimes these things happen,” he says. As an adult having gone through it all, he knows the relative futility of high school relationships, but how does one explain that to a distraught, heartbroken seventeen-year-old daughter? “And they suck. I know.” He envelops her in a hug, cradling her against his chest. 

“What did I do wrong, Dad?” she whispers. He shakes his head and holds her tighter, heart breaking in his chest for the second time in two days. 

“Yo, Beckett,” Esposito says. He doesn’t seem to see—or doesn’t comment on—the weariness in her bearing and the haunted look in her eyes. “Guess who showed up at the precinct yesterday? Castle.” 

“Did he get his writing done?” she asks, covering her own surprise and confusion in the guise of an innocent question. Why had Castle shown up at the precinct? She sent him away, so what is he still doing around? Doesn’t he get it? It’s over. 

“Yeah, he said he’s finally got Gina off his back so he’s all ours for the next couple weeks. He’s spending every spare minute at the precinct helping us hunt for your shooter.” She tenses momentarily and his eyes narrow at it. Again, he doesn’t comment, and she’s grateful. She doesn’t want to be smothered in their worry and concern. 

She considers for a moment, then takes the plunge. “Espo? Tell him thanks for me.” 

Esposito nods. “Will do.” Espo must be aware, at least on some level, of what neither of them has told him, to not question her request. Which means he must understand her situation, sympathize with it. He must be on her side. 

Kate doesn’t think she’s ever felt closer to Espo in her life. 

Chapter Text

Kate stands shakily, half of her weight on her feet and half of it leaning on the metal bar provided for her. Her wheelchair is at the edge of the mat a few feet away. With great effort, she lifts her foot a centimeter off the floor and forward slightly, just enough for it to count as a step. She leans on it heavily, dragging her left foot forward to meet it before standing still, practically panting with exertion. 

“Good,” her therapist says delightedly. “Remember, we stop as soon as you start feeling a burning sensation in your legs.” Her legs have passed “burning” a long while ago, but Kate is determined to press on. Five steps yesterday, six this morning, and she’s going for eight now. Her legs protest in a hot fire followed by a cold chill as she takes another tiny step, teeth clenched together and knuckles white with suppressed pain. She can do this. She will do this. 

“Three,” she pants. She’s still exhausted by this morning’s exertions, coupled by the stretches and strength exercises she completed before this. A sheen of perspiration coats her forehead. Another tiny step forward, four. 

She drops to her knees at seven, tears of pain and frustration wetting her lashes. She simply can’t go on and berates herself for it as the therapist helps her back into the wheelchair. The therapist—Dr. Sven—forces her to rest for ten minutes before moving on to the last part of her session. She brings her a cup of water that Kate only takes a sip of before handing back. The water upsets her stomach right before exercises, during which it is so clenched that it’s sore afterward. 

When she’s ready, Dr. Sven helps her onto the mat where she performs several stretches, although nothing that goes anywhere near her chest area. Dr. Sven calls it a form of yoga, but Kate doesn’t remember yoga hurting this much. 

As instructed, Kate leans forward as far she dares to wrap her fingers around her feet in a Sitting Forward Bend pose. Her flexibility after being trapped immobile in a bed for days is at an all-time low, but it’s still impressive. It’s just about the only part of her physical condition that remains adequate, but still it’s not up to her standards. She knows she can—she should be able to—do better. 

After a few moments she relaxes and repeats the pose, ignoring the strain in her muscles. She moves on to Pigeon Pose with one leg tucked underneath her and the other splayed out behind her like a partial splits. 

“Remember to breathe,” says the therapist, and Kate sucks in a deep breath. Her chest revolts in agony. 

At the end of the stretches, all of her muscles and joints feel looser and more fluid, but she knows they’ll seize up again in the interlude before her next session. Her therapist has her lie on her back on the mat for Corpse Pose—which has a little too much morbid humor to it for Kate’s taste—and she is unable to relax at all in this position. It reminds her too much of the shooting, of lying on her back in the grass with Castle over her. She sees him in her mind, whispering her name, telling her he loves her. She remembers the life bleeding out of her, the world fading away... She sits up faster than she ought, an uncomfortable twang in her chest. Dr. Sven admonishes her for it, but Kate doesn’t care. Corpse Pose is not for somebody who has actually been a corpse for over half a minute. And remembers it. 

“That’s all for today,” the therapist says cheerfully. She rolls the wheelchair up next to Kate and helps her up. Kate’s leaning heavily on Dr. Sven, breaths coming in short gasps. The world seems to be spinning as Dr. Sven wheels her back to her hospital room. Standing up from the floor by far is the hardest thing to do with her wound—even more difficult than walking. 

Dr. Sven leaves after situating Kate in the bed. The doctor returns soon after that, inquiring on how she’s feeling. She lies through her teeth and tells him the pain’s not too bad, but she accepts the medication without complaint. Blessed relief begins to flow through her veins, calming and placating her fatigued muscles and pained nerves. To make his visit even sweeter, the doctor tells her that she can be released as soon as she can walk the length of a house by herself—if she has someone to take care of her the next few months. In light of this, he shows her how to change the bandages on her ribcage, her chest, and lastly the bullet wound itself. The first is relatively easy, just a simple bandage over a long cut that has stitches lined up neatly along it like a picket fence. The second and third however, are much messier, with tiny strings of thread criss-crossing each other in a tangled web of suture. She has to be very delicate with these because any tugging at all on the stitches will damage the wound and set her back to square one, when she had first woken up in the hospital. 

This entire time, Jim has sat on the chair beside her, watching but not speaking. He now knows how to change the bandages, but she will not let him. When she gets out, this will be something she does herself. A ritualistic act of something she still has control over, even when her body movements, fluid and food intake, and exercise are carefully manipulated and monitored. 

The doctor leaves the two of them alone, and Jim asks if she wants to sleep. “No,” she says. “I would never sleep ever again if I didn’t have to.” 

He laughs. “When you get back to the precinct, that’s all going to change. Looking forward to going back home?” 

“You would not believe how much.” 

“Listen, Katie, I’ve only got the next two weeks off from work,” her father says. “The company won’t be happy about it, but I can take more off if you need me around. That is to say, if you decide not to ask him.” This is Josh all over again. Kate knows how hard her father’s worked to get this job, where he’s finally making decent pay and even has some saved up. She also knows how inflexible the schedule is. In the midst of her troubles, she hadn’t even thought about how he managed to get off three weeks in the first place. Trying to take more off now...it could cost him the job altogether. She can’t let him do that for her, not with the amount of work he’s put into getting there. The job was the final step to his recovery from alcoholism, the final thing that kept him sober and focused after so many relapses. 

“No, it’s okay, Dad,” she replies. “We can figure it out. You don’t have to do that.” But deep inside, she wonders how she will manage. Based on her recovery so far, even in two weeks time she won’t be well enough to go to the store for groceries or supplies. She’ll be lucky if she can walk around her apartment without too much pain. Ryan, Espo, and Lanie would do anything for her, she knows, but they all work long hours and can’t afford to babysit her either. 

She hates that word. Babysit. She doesn’t want to be babysat. She doesn’t want to be a burden on anyone, ask them for anything. Unfortunately, like so many other things in her life right now, it’s out of her control. 

That just leaves him. The one she doesn’t want to ask, because she’s not sure of the answer. And even if it’s yes, she’s not sure of the motive behind the answer. She knows him so well, and yet...in this, she feels she doesn’t know him at all. But he’s the only one she can ask. 

Her fingertips tingle with icy anticipation and her heartbeat quickens. I’ll just talk to him, she promises herself. She won’t plan to ask. But she needs to bring him back. It’s unfair, what she’s doing to him right now, when he hasn’t done anything wrong. The only things he’s done wrong are in the imaginary scenarios she plays out in her head. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for something he didn’t do. Especially when he is doing so much more than she asked of him. Not only is he keeping his distance and respecting her wishes, he’s trying to find her shooter. 

She resolves to call him, soon. Tomorrow. She’ll call him, ask him to come by the hospital if he has time. If he says yes, they’ll talk, and she’ll see how it goes. 

The tiniest bubble of hope forms inside her heart, floating atop a sea of cold dread. 

Once Alexis falls asleep, he tucks her into bed and turns out the light. For a moment he stands there, watching her chest rise and fall in the semi-darkness. He loves her, so much. It never ceases to amaze him that he and Meredith—one of the world’s most dysfunctional couples—could create a being so perfect. Then he closes the door and retreats downstairs into his room. 

He dresses into his pajamas and lies on his back in the king-sized bed, just thinking. About Alexis. About Ashley. About Kate. He loves Alexis. He hates Ashley for not calling. Kate’s a mixture of both of them. He wishes she would call—he could never hate her, no matter what she did—but he loves her as well. 

Why doesn’t he call? He rolls over onto his side so that he’s facing the wall. Why doesn’t she call? He flips over to his other side, as if someone else was there with him. He can imagine her slight smile as they fall asleep together. He can feel the softness of her hair brushing against his arm as she snuggles closer to him. He can almost pretend that she’s there with him. Where they can comfort and protect each other from their nightmares together. Where he can stop visiting the hangar, trying in vain to save Montgomery, and she can stop...dying? He doesn’t really know what she dreams about. 

Either way, her pretend presence is comforting. Imagining her in his arms, Castle finally falls asleep. 

The next day passes quickly, and Castle feels like a squirrel running from the precinct back to the loft and back to the precinct again. He’s still working on the case with Ryan and Esposito—much to Gates’s displeasure—but they’re making preparations for the day they will tell the Captain they’ve got nothing and she will reassign them to the mountain of other ordinary homicides that has slowly been building in their absence. Castle can only manage to sneak a file or two at a time out of the Twelfth, so it takes him more than ten trips throughout the day to bring all the files home and digitize them. He goes to bed near one o’clock, tired but happy. He’s doing it. He’s helping solve her case. He wonders if word of this has gotten back to her yet. He wonders if this will help her see that despite her kicking him out, he still cares for her. 

His question is answered by a phone call the next morning. “Castle.” 

“Hey.” It’s her. It’s her.

“Beckett,” he greets her, barely able to contain his joy. “What’s going on?” 

“If...if you have time, can you come by the hospital later this morning? We need to—I want to talk.” Her voice is halting, unsteady, but it’s her voice. She doesn’t sound angry or sad. Just...nervous? Anxious? He can’t quite identify it. 

“Yeah, of course,” he responds immediately. He launches himself out of bed, tugging on a pair of pants at random. “I’ll be right over.” 

“See you,” she ends the call. Their twenty-three second conversation has him elated, and he practically bounces out of his room and scribbles a note to Martha and Alexis explaining his sudden disappearance. He hails a cab to take him to the hospital, all the while planning what he will say to her first. On second thought, he has the driver make a brief stop at his usual coffee joint. These words have to special. But as he thinks about it, the more discontented he grows. Why did she cut him out of her life? Did she even think, at all, about how much that would hurt him? 

He enters the hospital and his feet automatically carry him to her room, as if they had memorized the path in anticipation of his return. Castle nods to the two officers outside her door and they nod back. He peers inside, wondering if Jim’s still around. She’s alone, reading a book. Not one of his, it’s much too thick. 

He forces himself to act civilly to her as he walks in. He can’t be angry, or he’ll scare her away from whatever she wants to say. He needs her to see that he’s putting her first, above his own feelings of hurt. He knocks softly and she looks up, an alarmed look in his eyes at his presence before she can mask it. She smiles slightly—forced or no, he can’t tell—and gives a tiny wave to invite him in. 

Castle steps into her room looking calm and relaxed, but the way his eyes are darting around she knows it’s just for show. Upon seeing him, a tumult of feelings arises within her, the least of which is the throbbing of her bullet wound. He speaks first. “Hey, Beckett. I brought you coffee.” 

“Sorry, Castle, I’m not allowed to have coffee,” she says regretfully. “Caffeine.” 

He smiles. “It’s decaf.” 

“Sludge water. Thanks, Castle.” She says it in the usual mocking tone she uses when she teases him. But he knows how much she appreciates it by the genuine smile she gives him, the slight sparkle in her eyes. It was sweet of him to bring it, even if she only takes a sip and sets it on the side table. So many things upset her stomach these days; she doesn’t want coffee to be one of them. 

Castle sits down next to her, keeping his hands in his lap and making no attempt to casually touch her like last time. He looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak. Right, she called him here. “I’m sorry I sent you away, Castle,” she says. He’s silent, still waiting. He wants an explanation. “I just...needed some time and space.” 

“I understand,” he replies in a neutral tone. “How are you?” 

“I’m...I’m on the mend,” she says. “You?” 

“Better, now that I’ve seen you,” he says. Something similar to adoration flares in his eyes as he gazes at her. She knows she’s forgiven. 

“It’s really good seeing you, too.” Another smile. “I’ve started physical therapy. They say I can be released in about a week if I keep making good progress.” She allows herself another sip of coffee. 

“How’s physical therapy?” 

Her face clouds. “It’s hard. A lot harder than I thought. I come back from every session sore and exhausted, but it is making me stronger.” 

“It’s difficult to coax life back into your limbs after this long. What about other things? Are they still cutting you back on pain medication?” 

“It’s stabilized out. I need it after therapy.” He nods affectionately, as if to reassure her that this last statement didn’t make her weaker in his eyes. It’s just what she had been thinking. “The nightmares are still there though.” 

”What do you dream about?” He seems genuinely curious, but the question catches her unawares. Montgomery’s shooting. Her own. Death. Her mom. Raglan. The dead she sees her dreams are almost an endless number. But she can’t tell him that, because she lied to him last time, said she didn’t remember the shooting. 

“My mom,” she says carefully. “Montgomery. The ER.” That’s the closest she can get to “being shot and dying” but she thinks he understands. A new thought occurs to her. “Do you have them? The dreams?” 

“Yeah,” Castle sighs and looks down. “Sometimes you’re there, sometimes I’m alone—searching for Montgomery in that warehouse, trying to find him before he’s killed. It...it never ends well.” 

She nods thoughtfully. She hadn’t considered how the traumatic events of the past week might have affected him. She wonders if she should be glad or hurt that he doesn’t dream about her shooting. “I broke up with Josh.” He raises his eyebrows. “Last time you were here. I should’ve told you, but it was still too fresh. I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing.” 

“Are you sure now?” 

The question catches her off-guard, but she finds she has an answer for it. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. I really liked him, but he wasn’t the one. In the end, he won’t make me happy.” But you might, she adds on silently. 

“Miss Beckett?” Dr. Sven interrupts them. “It’s time for your therapy session.” She wheels the wheelchair inside. 

Kate looks at Castle, hope written all over her face. “Same time tomorrow?”

He gives her hand a soft, innocent squeeze. “Tomorrow.”

She doesn’t realize until he leaves just how happy simply talking with him has made her. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, Castle does not arrive until after her therapy session and Kate had begun to wonder if he had changed his mind and decided not to come after all. The thought had hurt more than she’d imagined it would, but to her relief he was here now, making his apologies for his lateness. 

“I had to drop Alexis off at her workshop,” he explains. “She and Ashley are having problems, so I wanted to take her myself. Then Gina called and wanted to make book signing arrangements, and there was a lot of traffic getting back into the city, and...” 

“It’s okay, Castle,” she says. She now remembers that even though the hospital room is consistent day-to-day, the world outside keeps on spinning. Unfortunately she’s tired now from her session and barely able to stay awake for him. 

“How are you?” he asks. 

“On the mend,” she says with a slight smile. “The exercises are tiring and I can’t sleep very well without being able to turn on my side. The dreams are still a nightly occurrence as well.” 

“If you wanna sleep, I’ll stay with you,” Castle offers. 

“That’s sweet of you, but I’ve already tried it with Lanie. Having someone there doesn’t keep them at bay.” 

“I’m not Lanie.” 

“Castle, it’s okay, you don’t have to,” she protests. “We can talk first; I’m not that sleepy.” 

“Sorry, Kate, your poker face needs a little work,” he replies. “I have my laptop at the loft; I was planning in doing some writing at the Old Haunt. If my watching you is creepy, I can go get it.” 

“Yes, exceedingly.” She cannot deny the earnest look in his eyes. He’s not doing this to make up for being late or for failing to prevent her getting shot. He actually wants to do this. Why? 

He’s already told me why, she thinks, but dismisses the thought. There’s a logical explanation in there somewhere, and eventually she’ll find it. For now, she can just enjoy what she has. It’s not like it was with Josh—she’s not cheating Castle because, deep down, she feels the same way he says he does. The way she hopes he does. 

“All right, I’ll fetch my laptop,” he grins. He’s the excited boy in the candy store again, and...she’s the candy. 

When he returns, he’s carrying his computer and her eyes are closed. She’d tried to stay awake for him by counting up the number of times they’d done things for each other...she’d saved his life four times, and he’d done it eight. Eight? That can’t be right. She’s not even counting the phone call warning her of the bomb in her apartment because she’d heard the “Goodbye, Nikki” recording at virtually the same time. How is it possible he’s saved her life more times than she has his? She supposes that as a true cop, she puts hers in more danger more often. That has to be what it is. She resolves to work harder when she gets back to the precinct, make their numbers a little more even. 

He sets his laptop on the table and boots it, sitting down again. He moves it to his lap and clicks a couple times before placing a warm hand on top of hers. Her fingers move feebly and find his, curling around them. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” he whispers. 

“Barely,” she breathes, eyes still closed. 

“Just go to sleep. I’m right here,” he says. He begins to type one-handedly, the other still in her soft grip. He makes no move to retrieve it and, a few seconds later, she’s asleep. 

She wakes gently several hours later to the tapping of keys to find him still sitting there and her hand still in his. She’s loathe to let go, but she retracts her hand and runs it shakily through her hair. He reclaims his without complaint. 

“Good morning,” he greets her.

“Good mor—morning? I slept through the entire day? And you stayed? Castle, you should have gone home!” 

He grins. “Just kidding. It’s afternoon. Around three o’clock.”

“Oh. Castle!”

“Sorry. Just had to see your expression. How was your nap?”

“Don’t use the word nap, Castle; it makes me feel like an old woman.”

“Rest. Doze. Snooze. Siesta. Ooh, siesta,” he decides. “How was your siesta?” 

“Pretty good, thanks.” Pretty good is an understatement. She normally has a nightmare or two every three hours, and yet she slept for four without a single one. But she doesn’t want to tell Castle exactly how much he calms her, comforts her, relaxes her. That would make him feel like he has to stay on her account. She doesn’t want him to stay out of obligation. If he visits, he should do it because he wants to. 

“Glad I could help,” he smiles. He closes his laptop and sets it on the side table. “So, what now?” 

“We could talk,” she suggests. “Or you could go, if you have somewhere else to be.”

“No, nowhere else.” He glances at the wheelchair in the corner. “Are you allowed outside?” 

The question gives her pause. “I don’t know. I don’t think there’s a reason why not.” Castle calls in a nurse and consults her and then gives Kate a thumbs-up. The nurse helps maneuver her into the wheelchair, a lengthy and painful process. Once comfortably seated, Kate smoothes down the front of her short hospital gown self-consciously. 

“Ready?” Castle asks. She nods, mouth clamped shut in anticipation. He begins to wheel her gently down the hallway and into the bright sunlight. At first it blinds her and leaves her blinking rapidly. After a few moments her eyes adjust and she finds herself in a large courtyard with paved walkways, trees, and vibrantly colored flowers. There are a few other patients milling around or sitting on the benches, but most of all everything is relaxed. Peaceful. 

The slight breeze whistles through the courtyard and she feels her worries disappear, borne away on the wind. A sense of tranquility creeps over her as Castle parks the wheelchair next to an empty bench and sits down beside her. “Better?” 

“Much,” she answers, lips curving upward in a smile. “It’s nice out here.” 

Castle smiles in return as she looks out at the courtyard again. The clouds are reflected in her brown eyes, and he’s close enough to touch her if he wants to. But he doesn’t think she’d appreciate that right now. He was surprised she’d allowed his hand for so long earlier. 

As he watches her, a sense of longing forms in the pit of his stomach. He’s glad to be here, happy she’s spending time with him. But he wants more. He longs to run his hands through her soft waves of hair, despite its being more lackluster than normal. He longs to sweep it away from her face, like he did...like he did the night he keeps visiting in his dreams. As he had held her down against the car with his hand over her mouth, he had seen the pain in her eyes, the desperation, the anguish. He had seen the tears in her eyes, had heard the whimper that escaped her mouth. She had reached up and touched his face, whether as a sign of understanding the necessity of it all or to try to push him away he doesn’t know. He prefers to think the former. 

“Have they told you when they’ll release you?” he asks. 

She doesn’t look at him but answers, “Maybe a week? If I have someone to take care of me at home.” 

“Your dad?” He’s secretly hoping that by some miracle she’ll ask him. Castle would be delighted to take care of her. Because he wants to help, yes, but also because it would mean she did really, completely, forgive him for his part in this. It would mean their relationship has a chance. 

“No, he has to go back to work. I haven’t really thought that far ahead.” 

Kate Beckett, not plan that far ahead? He doesn’t believe her, not for a second. She’s been waiting to be released since she first arrived, and she doesn’t have a plan for fulfilling the requirements? No way. 

“If you want, I’d be happy to do it,” he suggests softly. His voice is carefully controlled, not sounding apathetic but not overly eager either. Either one might send the wrong message, or worse, scare her off. 

Her head whips around to face him, surprise written all over her face. He squirms and feels the need to support his statement with logic. “I mean, I’m a writer. I can write from anywhere. I don’t live that far away from your apartment, and Alexis has Gram. Besides, it’s not that far from my loft to your apartment if she needs me.” 

“You would really do that? For me?” She still looks shocked, searching his face for motive. Her eyes are wide with disbelief. 

“Of course.” He smiles, and slowly she does too. 

She looks away again and asks, this time in a teasing voice, “Sure you’re not doing this just to get in my bed, Castle?” 

“Wouldn’t be much point, now would there? You can’t do much more than cuddle right now.” 

She turns to him, amusement glittering in her eyes. “Are you saying you don’t want to cuddle with me, Castle?” 

He narrows his eyes. “Alexis tells me I’m a very good cuddler, like a big teddy bear. You’d be lucky to have me.” 

“You’re still sleeping on the couch.”

“Deal.”

Her hand finds his for a quick squeeze before she releases it. “Thanks again, Castle.” 

“Always.” She smiles in recognition of the word, their word, and asks, “So, tell me what’s happening in the outside world. Espo’s mentioned Captain Gates a couple times. What did you think of her? Anything I should watch out for when I go back?” 

“Let’s just say we didn’t hit it off too well.” 

“Oh, Castle, what’d you do?” 

With a jingle of keys, Castle unlocks the door to the loft and steps inside. “Where’ve you been?” Alexis asks disconsolately from the sofa. Her phone lies untouched on the table. 

“I was visiting Kate,” he replies apologetically. “Ashley?” 

“Nothing.” She fiercely wipes away a tear. “I wish he would just call so I would know either way. How long am I supposed to wait, Dad? How long am I supposed to wait for his call?” 

“It depends,” Castle sits down next to her. “How long is it worth?” 

She sighs. “I don’t know.” 

“Only you can answer that question,” Castle tells her gently. “You have to decide at what point if he did call, you wouldn’t take him back. When the relationship has reached its breaking point where nothing is going to fix it.” 

She nods. “How’s Detective Beckett?” 

“She’ll be out of the hospital in a week, we think.” 

“That’s great,” Alexis manages a small smile. 

“Afterwards, though, I’m going to have to take care of her for a while,” Castle explains to her daughter. He doesn’t notice her slight frown. “She’ll still be very weak, so I’ll spend a lot of nights at her place.” 

“’kay,” Alexis says. She stands abruptly and sweeps up her phone from the tabletop. “I promised I’d call Paige. See you at dinner, Dad.” She runs up the stairs with Castle looking after her bewilderedly. Had he said something wrong? 

Chapter Text

“Alexis! Mother! Dinner!” Castle calls. Martha bounces down the staircase and washes her hands at the sink. She gets three plates and doles out generous servings of spaghetti on each, placing them on the table. Castle pours the drinks and then looks around. Maybe Alexis has her music going and can’t hear him. “Alexis?” Castle knocks on her door. “Are you okay?” There’s no answer. Castle places his hand on the doorknob slowly, trying to decide if barging in is an intrusion. Before he can do anything, however, it swings open and Alexis appears. 

“I heard,” she says shortly. Castle follows her down the stairs and back to the dining table. He can tell she’s mad at him by the way she places the silverware in the wrong order at just his place setting. But why? 

“So, how was your day, Mother?” he breaks the formidable silence. 

“Oh, lovely darling. My acting studio has started doing a little improv before we start our next production, and my students are just magnificent! Such talent, energy, so much potential.” 

“That’s great!” Castle says. “Alexis?”

“It was fine,” Alexis says, stabbing at her spaghetti. 

“Nothing from Ashley?” Castle asks sympathetically. “He said he’d call me tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Castle says carefully. Is it good? 

“That was the day before yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Darling,” Martha says, taking Alexis’s hand. 

She pulls hers away and into her lap. “He texted me an hour ago. He wants to meet at the park tomorrow at noon.” Castle exchanges a perplexed glance with Martha. Is letting Alexis go alone smart? Can he even stop her, if she is determined to go? Does she even want to? Alexis is hard to read right now, possibly even harder than Kate—and that’s saying something. 

“Do you...are you going to?” Castle asks. He’s not sure what he wants her to say, although his gut is wrenching him into hoping she’ll say no and close this chapter of her life with Ashley for good. And maybe not date at all for a while. 

“I don’t know.” Alexis’s voice is flat, betraying the depth of her pain. “I want to see him. I want an explanation. But I don’t want to just forgive him and have this happen all over again. I don’t know if I want to put myself in that situation.” 

“Well, you’ll never know what could be until you try,” Martha exclaims. “You should go.” 

Castle gives his mother a what-are-you-doing look and then says to Alexis, “If you don’t think anything he can say will mend your relationship, then don’t go. Break it off with him. Ashley’s in the wrong here, not you. You don’t owe him anything.” 

“We were in love, Dad,” Alexis says. “That goes two ways. I at least owe him the chance to give an explanation.” 

He sighs inwardly. “Then go,” Castle advises his daughter. It’s against his better judgment, but her happiness means more to him. It’s not like he doesn’t know Ashley, he thinks. He’s met the guy before, and suitably freaked him out by waving around a gun. Ashley definitely has the proper respect for Alexis, and for him. Even though it feels like it’s been forever, in reality they’ve only been apart for less than a week. 

“Then it’s settled,” Martha says with all too much enthusiasm. “As I always say, Alexis, if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. If it’s not, then there’s nothing you can do to save it. Love is tricky like that—especially young love.” 

Alexis nods uncertainly. “Thanks, Gram.” 

Wind rustles through the courtyard, playing with her hair for a fleeting moment before whisking away. Her eyes trail after it, watching its effects on the treetops before it disappears from view completely. Castle touches her shoulder. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. Just thinking.” 

He waits a second for her to elaborate, and when she doesn’t, asks, “About?” 

“Getting back to the precinct. I keep imagining the day in my mind, but Montgomery is always there to greet me, not this...Captain Gates. It’s hard to accept that everything won’t be the same when I get back.” 

Castle’s silent for the moment. “It’s odd, not having Montgomery around and seeing someone else in his office, sitting at his desk.” 

“The awful part is that you never lose that feeling,” Kate says softly. She doesn’t feel like crying; she’s too numb for tears. “Even twelve years later, I still sometimes expect my mother to walk through the door. When I first woke up in the hospital, I thought I’d...I thought I’d see her. I thought she’d come sit at my bedside, and we could talk and laugh like we used to. She would make me feel better, forget where I am and why. It was nice...for a few seconds. And then she was gone again.” 

He looks at her sympathetically. “I didn’t know. I’ve never lost anyone before.” 

“What about your dad?” She’s genuinely curious. 

“Well, I never knew him,” Castle answers readily. “You can’t expect or miss something you’ve never experienced.” 

“I understand,” Kate says, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t understand why Castle doesn’t feel like there’s a gaping hole in his life where all his father-son memories should be. She can’t imagine her childhood without her dad. Doesn’t Castle see what he’s missing? That special relationship is ever-present in books, movies, and TV shows. Has he never longed to see what that’s like? Or maybe he does, but the pain has been a part of him so long that he’s managed to all but bury it in other things. After all, he’s lived with it all his life. 

Kate shakes her head to clear it. “We should be getting back. They don’t want me out here too long.” Castle stands and obeys immediately, wrapping his hands around the wheelchair handles and pushing forward. Her seat bounces over a crack in the concrete and jars her, causing a surge of pain in her chest. She winces and places a hand to it, but touching will only increase her discomfort. “A bit slower, please,” she requests, and Castle slows down apologetically. 

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” he asks.

“Not much,” she replies. “The bumps are painful, that’s all.” 

Within a few minutes, she is situated in the hospital bed again. She’s already wishing she were back outside with the sunshine, wind, and plants. Castle checks his phone. “Waiting to hear from someone?” Kate asks. 

He sighs. “Just my mother. Alexis is meeting Ashley at the park today and Mother went along to keep an eye on them.” 

“A bit intrusive of her, but I can see why.”

He frowns. “What would you have done in Alexis’s situation, when you were her age?”

Kate pauses, thinking about her wild child days, when romance had been fun and fleeting. But Alexis is not a very aloof teenager, so she goes back a little further, to her younger teen days. When it had been new and every moment magical. “I would have met him.” 

“Would you have forgiven him?” 

“If I thought he was the one...I would have forgiven just about anything.” She’s slightly embarrassed of this truthfulness. She has mixed feelings about the whole premise. She thinks it’s naïve of her younger self to be so lenient, but at the same time she regrets that loss of innocence. As an adult with all the difficult events in her life under her belt, nothing is that simple anymore. She’s forced to second-guess everything, and little nagging doubts give her no peace of mind. Part of her believes fate—or the universe, as Castle would say—is out to get her. Part of her is waiting for the next horrific event to sweep everything she has away again. What she would give to be that carefree again. 

Castle looks uncomfortable with that statement. Obviously he was hoping Alexis would move on from Ashley. “Well,” I should probably go,” he says. “See you tomorrow.” 

She smiles, still amazed he comes so often. She wants to hear about the outside world, even if she’s not allowed in it. “See you.” 

“Mother, how was it?” Castle asks in lieu of a greeting. Martha is seated on the couch thoroughly engrossed in a fashion magazine. 

“Oh, it was lovely!” Martha exclaims, looking up and setting it down. “I believe the boy even cried.” 

“Cried? After she broke up with him?” He’s wondering if he’ll have to deal with a heartbroken Alexis when he goes up to her room. 

“Oh no, about something else. An apology, perhaps.” 

Martha looks thoroughly happy with this outcome, while Castle’s feelings go both ways. He knows he’ll have to speak with Alexis for the full story. “Where is she?” 

“Up in her room, on the phone with him,” Martha says. “They were talking the whole way home and since.” 

“How long ago was that?” 

“Oh, two hours.” Things must really be repaired between them then. Alexis’s fears about going to Stanford alone are unfounded. He won’t disturb her until she disconnects from her phone and comes downstairs herself. He’ll let the two chat, reconnect. 

And he’s happy for her. He’s happy that she’s happy. But he can’t shake the terrible feeling of apprehension about this relationship. 

Maybe he’s being silly and overprotective. He knows he can be that way sometimes. Maybe he just doesn’t like that this is a part of her life he can’t protect her from. That must be it. 

The feeling lingers long after thoughts of Alexis and Ashley have left his mind. 

Chapter Text

“What do you remember about your shooting, Kate?” Dr. Burke, the dark-skinned man seated across from her, appears completely relaxed and attentive. His posture is open, inviting, and thoroughly focused. It’s obvious he wants her to feel comfortable in his presence, but it’s so different than what she’s used to it actually has the opposite effect. 

“I’m not here for a psych eval,” she replies. “I’m going to be released from the hospital tomorrow and they said I should come talk to you. About things I might experience during the healing process.” 

“You don’t think talking about the incident will be beneficial?” His tone is not curious or accusatory, but rather one of mild interest. He’s letting her control the situation, call the shots. She’s not used to being handed power so readily. She has to remind herself that this is not an interrogation room; there is no grapple for dominance here. 

“No, I don’t,” she says firmly. “I don’t want to.” 

“It’s your decision, of course. But I’ve often found that in talking it out, patients of mine can see their issues more clearly and recover faster.” He waits for her response. 

“No thanks.” She doesn’t want to relive it by talking about it. Even skirting around the subject puts her on edge and makes her uncomfortable, rousing a deep ache in her chest. 

“All right. Well, here’s what I can tell you: shooting victims often experience some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. Are you aware of the symptoms?” Kate nods quickly, a sharp dip of her chin and back up again. “Some major things to look out for are nightmares and triggers.” 

“Triggers?” 

“Objects, places, or people that subconsciously remind you of the shooting. Obvious ones might be a sniper rifle or the cemetery itself, but less obvious ones might be a whistle you heard right beforehand or something as mundane as that.” 

“Could it be a person?” Kate asks in spite of herself. “An action, or position?” 

“Yes,” Dr. Burke nods slowly. “Why do you ask?” 

She ignores the question and proceeds with one of her own, one that instills fear in her heart. “How do you know if someone or something is a trigger?” She’s thinking about Castle and his profession of love. 

“If it’s a trigger, you’ll know. Triggers will set off involuntary and oftentimes surprising reactions in you, such as taking cover, crying, screaming, or evoking nightmares.” Kate frowns. She can’t imagine herself doing any of those things, except maybe the dreams. Those have already begun to haunt her. 

Then his words sink in and she breathes a sigh of relief. Castle is not a trigger. He causes no adverse reaction in her, and his presence even keeps some of the nightmares at bay. She’d glad she won’t have to deal with that on top of everything else. Because most of all, she wants Castle at her side for this. She likes the thought of having her partner every step of the way. 

“Hey, Dad!” Alexis greets him with a smile. “What are you making?” 

Castle side-steps to cover his work before adding the finishing touches and brandishing the completed plate. 

Alexis’s eyes widen. “My favorite pancakes! What’s the occasion?” She takes the plate from him and sets it on the counter. She hunts down a fork and digs in with gusto, a sight that makes Castle smile. 

“Well, as you know, I’m going home with Beckett today,” Castle says, drizzling batter for another large pancake onto the pan. 

“Oh. Right,” Alexis mumbles. She sets her fork down and wipes a bit of chocolate syrup from the corner of her mouth with a napkin. She’s obviously unhappy, and Castle gives her an inquisitive look. 

“Do you have a problem with that, sweetheart?” 

“Well…no,” Alexis looks unsure of herself. She’s doing that thing she has since she was no higher than his waist where she chews on her lower lip while she’s thinking, and despite the situation Castle can’t help but marvel at how adorable it still is. “I mean, I guess not. I just wish you’d asked me first, you know?” 

“Alexis, I don’t need your permission.” 

She looks at him, something unreadable in her blue eyes. “I know. But...you’ve always had a bit of a blind spot where Beckett is concerned. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I mean, I do it too, but...any one of us could have been shot at that funeral, Dad. I got an up-close look at what you two go through daily, and I don’t like what I see. It’s dangerous, and scary, and risky. What if I had needed you, here?” 

“I’m sorry, Alexis. Do you need me here?” Castle’s concerned gaze bores into his daughter, and she looks down with the weight of it. 

“No, I guess not. I just wish you would have asked my opinion, because it affects me too.” 

“Next time, I will. I’m sorry. Are we okay?” 

Alexis stands up and hugs him around the waist, murmuring into his shirt, “Yeah, Dad, we’re okay. I love you.” 

“I love you too, sweetie.” Alexis finishes her pancake while Castle scrapes the burned one off the pan. By the time Martha comes down, he’s got a steaming stack on a plate waiting for smiley faces. Maybe he’ll take one to Beckett. 

“Are you sure you’re ready to take this step?” The doctor is standing in front of her, holding a clipboard. That packet of papers is her ticket out of here, and she’s itching to get her hands on it. 

“Don’t rush into this, Katie,” her father advises her. “There’s nothing wrong with staying in here a few more days to regain more of your strength.” 

She glances at Castle, who’s loitering unobtrusively by the door. “No, Dad, really, I’m fine. I want to get back out into the world, even if it does require a wheelchair for a while.” She’s smiling as she says this, practically giddy with happiness. She’s getting out of here, finally. Her patience, her pushing through the pain has paid off. She’s going home. With Castle even, her mind adds. 

“All right,” the doctor agrees reluctantly. “Sign at the bottom of all of these. I’ll give you some time to read through them.” He and the nurse exit out the door, leaving the three of them alone. She peruses the documents, aware of Castle and her father chatting softly in the background. She really just wants to sign on every line and hand it back, but her sensible side forces her to read them all. 

When she’s done, Jim hails back the nurse who gives them a once-over and then smiles at Kate. The normal struggle to get into the wheelchair seems to Kate to take double the regular amount of time, but at last she’s seated and ready to roll. Castle wheels her out the door, the hospital room and its horrors fading away like a long-lost dream with every rotation of the wheels. 

She looks up at Castle and he smiles down at her. Suddenly the chair speeds to the side to avoid another patient on crutches and Kate winces, rolling her eyes. “Watch where you’re going, Castle.” 

“Sorry,” he says. He leans down, breath tickling her ear as he whispers. “Looking down the front of your gown is just so distracting.” 

“Castle!” she jerks her head away, sucking in air at the quick movement. Her chest throbs, but more importantly she can’t believe he said that. Well, yes, she can. He is Richard Castle after all. 

If she could, she would slap him. Playfully. Somewhat. But she can’t; her arms don’t rise up that high right now. She settles for tucking in the front of her gown—already very tucked! the bastard—and shooting him a dirty look. From above, he’s laughing at her. 

Outside the hospital, she takes in the stoplights, streets, and numerous cars like she’s never been to the city before. She’s delighting in every facet of the hustle and bustle of everyday life, and she thinks she could just spend hours watching vehicles zoom by. Her dad helps her into the front seat of his car and Castle stows the wheelchair in the back before climbing in himself. Jim pulls out onto the road with ease, glancing at her every so often. When they finally arrive at her apartment complex, she asks for the key and Castle hands it to her. 

She pushes open the car door and stops immediately, because stretching her arm out that far is painful. She’s reminded, constantly reminded, that she’s still weak and recuperating, but she’s determined to make it to her apartment without help. Castle and Jim both try to dissuade her as she stumbles through the front door, but in the end her stubbornness wins out and Castle fetches the wheelchair from the trunk but steers it empty. 

She shudders uncontrollably as she reaches the elevator, eyes fluttering shut. As the metal box slides smoothly upward, she’s literally swaying on her feet. Castle catches her arm but she shakes him off as the doors ding open, forcing her legs to move once again. Her hands are shaking as she slips the key into the lock, missing several times in the process. She turns it fluidly and hears a satisfying click before the door swings open. 

Her apartment is dark and filled with shadows. Curtains have been pulled over the windows, but she knows the layout well enough and is not afraid of the dark. She makes her way to an armchair and sinks down into it, resting her head on the back of it with her eyes closed. Neither Jim nor Castle say anything but begin letting the light back into her apartment, one window at a time. She opens her eyes again to find the wheelchair situated in a corner and Jim laying something on the coffee table. Two things. 

She picks one up, turning it over in her hands so that the ring’s diamond catches and refracts the light. She slips the necklace over her head and over the purchased hospital gown. She had lobbied to wear her own clothes out, but they had insisted it would be too rough on her wounds to wear anything but these loose-fitting garments. Putting both the necklace and the watch on, like the makeup, does wonders to help her feel like herself again. The makeup had been external—she felt empowered and got sense of normalcy through it—but this was more of an internal thing. Reunited with these two items, they fill a hole in her heart that she hadn’t even noticed existed. With them, she feels complete. Or as complete as she ever had since her mother’s death. 

“You okay, Katie?” her father asks, kneeling in front of her with a concerned expression. 

She forces herself to smile. She must have looked a bit melancholy for a moment. “Yeah, Dad, I’m fine. Little bit hungry though. Do you think you could make lunch?” 

“Of course.” Jim stands and enters the kitchen. It’ll help, she thinks, to give him something to do. She’s not really hungry; Castle’s pancake from this morning still weighs heavily in her stomach. Over the course of her time in the hospital, her stomach seems to have shrunk down to a fourth its size. She knows it worries all of them, to see how thin she’s become. But she’s convinced with good food and sleep, she’ll gain it all back again. Between her father and Castle, food is definitely taken care of. 

Castle sits down next to her, taking in the necklace and the watch with one smooth glance. “Good to be home?” 

She smiles. “Good to be home.” 

Chapter Text

The voice in her head is clear, familiar, comforting with every rise and fall in cadence. It makes her feel safe, secure. It makes her forget who she is now and remember who she was. The person she might have grown up to be. 

“Once upon a time, there was a princess with long blonde hair, a cheery smile, and a good heart. She lived in a magical kingdom bordered by tall mountains, a deep forest, and a large ocean...” Kate closes the photo album, the memory fading away along with it. She swallows hard, running her thumb over its front. The year on the leather cover reads 1990, when she was nine. Her mother loved to read her fairytales even beyond her princess-years, and this one was their favorite. Johanna didn’t read it from a book, and Kate doesn’t know where it originally came from. She simply told it to her, each time changing the plot and the ending but always beginning the same, with those two lines, now irrevocably burned into Kate’s memory. It could be the tale of valiant fights with dragons or saving a beggar woman from a life of hunger. Sometimes it had a dashing young prince, sometimes not. But without exception, the princess always found in herself enough strength to overcome the obstacles, whatever they may be. It went along with her mother’s saying, “Life never delivers anything we can’t handle.” 

When Kate turned thirteen, she declared herself too old for fairytales and delved instead into first fantasy novels, then comic books, and finally in her late teens mystery novels. She regrets that so much now. She regrets that she stopped listening to her mother’s stories. She wishes she would have kept going, not pushed to grow up so fast. As a child, that’s all she wanted to be. Grown up. Now, there’s nothing she wouldn’t give to be back there again. 

Kate carefully places the album back in the box with the others. She doesn’t know why she opened it at all. She puts the lid back on the box and drapes a folded blanket over it, probably heavier an item than she’s supposed to be lifting. Castle’s banging pots and pans in the kitchen and her father’s out shopping. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be doing. Nothing, she guesses. She wishes they would give her something, a task, something to occupy her time. Since returning home seven hours ago, all she’s done is eat and rest. 

Now she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor simply exploring the items in her living room. The TV and the books on her shelf hold no interest for her at this moment, and neither does she want to continue looking at photo albums. Yesterday she had been anxious to be released from the hospital. Today she realizes there’s little difference between here and there. 

What had she been expecting? To arrive home and miraculously be fit for duty once again? The indignity of it all is crushing, exacerbated by Castle and her father’s presence. She can’t walk more than from one room to the next one over. Getting up from the couch is two-and-a-half minute process and her chest is constantly on fire. She knows she should’ve taken pain medicine an hour ago, but it’s in the kitchen and she can’t even get herself up off the carpet. 

All she has to do is ask. One word from her and Castle will come running, help her up, get her whatever she needs. The same with her father. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to be dependent on them for anything, and she hates that she is. She can see the worry that creases her father’s forehead every time he looks at her, and the concern in Castle’s eyes makes her want to scream and hit something. Her every request for help, wince of pain, and sigh of tiredness tears down her reputation a little bit more, a reputation she’s been building for thirteen years. She’s supposed to be the strong one. She’s supposed to power through, even when others have given up. She’s supposed to be independent. 

Ever since Johanna’s death, this is who she has molded herself into. She built her wall inside and shaped her appearance and actions so that she was the beacon of hope and fortitude for everyone else around. She set aside her own feelings, her own grief, to take care of her father. She buried them deep inside, behind that impenetrable wall. She pulled herself together for him, sharpened her mind and stoked her determination so that she could be whole once again. So that she could support him, he who was broken. She stuffed every feeling that didn’t align with her goal behind that wall, building it up and enforcing it with a steel willpower. She conditioned her mind to think that way and she let go of what let her be carefree and what let her believe in the magical or the impossible. There was no room for such frivolous nonsense. It wasn’t until she was made Detective that she realized the wall was truly impenetrable, just like she wanted—except it was impenetrable to her, too. She realized she had trapped herself inside with them as well. 

And then Castle came along. When they had first met, he read her so easily... She had hated him then. But not just because he was a humongous jackass, because he found the cracks in her armor, cracks she didn’t even know existed. And he wasn’t just content to find them, he had to peek inside, burrow himself there, widen them and threaten to let the entire world in. She couldn’t have that. That wall was all she had to hold onto, the thing keeping her grounded. That wall was who she had become, and without it she was far too vulnerable. She scratched and clawed to keep it intact, but no matter what she did he slowly wormed his way inside. 

So here he is now, wedged in the largest crack at all. He’s got a hand inside and is firmly planted there. Shoving him out completely is the easiest option, but she’s gotten addicted to him pushing her buttons. A small part of her longs for him to finally break it down, but the thought terrifies her. She doesn’t want to open herself up to hurt like what she has felt before. 

For all of her tough act, inside it is truly fear that rules her. And she can’t ask for help because she fears he’ll see that. Like he saw her so clearly when they first met. 

Castle frowns, listening intently. Nothing. He hasn’t heard so much as a peep from her since he started cooking, and it worries him. But as much as he wants to go out there and check on her, he thinks his babysitter-ness will be entirely unwelcome. Luckily, dinner is almost done anyway. 

He finishes chopping the last tomato with a flourish and dumps the whole lot into the pot of angel hair pasta. Though the water has been strained out, steam rises in wisps from the mixture. After stirring it thoroughly, he serves it onto three plates and leaves the rest on the stove. Carrying the plates to the small dining table, he hears the front door close and a moment later Jim comes in with bags of groceries. The pasta, olive oil, and salt they had found in her cupboard and the tomatoes and garlic Castle had brought over were fine for one meal, but Kate didn’t keep much else around. 

Jim nods in appreciation of the smell and the colorful look of the dish. “I’ll get Katie.” Castle agrees and systematically opens the drawers in search of forks. He’s yet to get used to the organizational structure of her sparse kitchen. He sets everything on the table and sits down. After another few seconds, Kate appears, treading slowly but determinedly to the table and sinking down into the chair next to him. He wishes she would just use the wheelchair, but nothing he or Jim has said will convince her to do that. Her father sits on her other side. 

Reaching for his fork, Castle is stopped suddenly as Jim says grace and Kate says it softly with him. He sits silently until they finish, not knowing the prayer and a little unsure how to proceed. Martha had never raised him to pray before meals; religion didn’t play a big role in his life at all. He doesn’t assert the notion that there is not a God, but he doesn’t put faith into it either. It surprises him for some reason that Jim is religious, if only because that would mean Kate was raised that way as well. Even in the many instances in which they thought they were about to die, he has never seen her pray. 

The three of them dig in, Kate complimenting the food and Jim making small talk. During a lull in the conversation, Jim sets his fork down. “Katie, there’s something I have to tell you.” 

She looks at him, confused, setting hers down with a clink as well. “What is it, Dad?” 

“I got a call while I was out. They want me back to work tomorrow, six a.m.” Kate masks her thoughts by looking down at her plate, and Castle’s happiness that they’ll be alone together is quickly replaced by apprehension. He’d been counting on Jim as a buffer for at least the first week, but now it will just be the two of them. A bit of a daunting prospect. 

“That’s okay, Dad,” she says, giving him a small smile. “I’ll be fine here with Castle.”

Jim nods. “I’m sorry, Katie.”

After dinner Jim washes the dishes and Castle squares away the leftovers into the fridge—another meal’s worth, now that it’s just the two of them. Kate excuses herself for bed and kisses her father both goodnight and goodbye, leaving the two men in the kitchen together. “Leaving soon?” Castle asks as Jim dries his hands on the towel. 

“In a little while,” Jim says, sitting back down at the table. “I don’t want to go just yet.” Castle nods and sits down across from him. “So, what are you going to do all this time while you’re staying here? It was very generous of you to offer.” 

“I don’t really know,” Castle shrugs.

“She won’t like it if you hover,” Jim warns him, and Castle laughs. 

“I know. On our third-or-so case together, she yelled at me for watching her do paperwork. Said it was creepy.” 

Jim laughs. “Why were you watching her? She tells me you usually leave for the boring parts of her job.”

“My last Derrick Storm book, Storm Fall, was coming out that day.”

“So you were hiding.” Jim, Castle reflects, is as acute as Beckett had been on that day.

“Well...sort of.” Castle shifts in his seat. 

“I read your latest book the other day—“ Jim looks slightly amused.

“Oh, what’d you think?” Castle cuts in.

Jim continues in the same tone. “—Naked Heat.” He looks at Castle shrewdly. 

“Oh.” Castle makes the connection and scrambles to explain himself. “Though...though my books are...are grounded in reality, a lot of uh, the aspects of them are actually just pure fantasy.” Jim narrows his eyes, and Castle backtracks. “Not my...not my personal fantasies. Just out of my imagination.” He squirms in his seat as Jim Beckett gives him a third look. “Not that I’m imagining that all the time! I’m...I just...I’m not doing a very good job of explaining myself.” 

Jim’s mouth curves upward in the slightest hint of a smile, a twinkle in his eyes. “I think you’re doing fine, Rick. But seeing as I am leaving her incapacitated in your care, I would know your intentions.” Jim affixes him with a firm, unblinking gaze. 

“Help her get better,” Castle answers readily. “Be a friend. Take care of her until she can do that herself.”

“And after that?”

Now Castle looks down. “After that, we’ll see what happens.” 

Jim nods like this is an acceptable answer. “Be careful with her, Rick. No one was more surprised than I when she accepted your offer to stay here. It’s not like her, and even getting shot can’t change someone that much, that quickly. Even though she’s made a move to let you in, she’ll try to hide it from you. Her pain. Her misery.” 

“Why?” Castle asks. He desperately wants to know the answer, to figure Kate out. If anyone can, it’s probably her father. 

“Only she can answer that,” Jim nods gravely. “This is your chance, Rick. This is her chance. You’re the only one who can draw her out despite her kicking and clawing to stay hidden. So do it.” Castle’s brow creases as he takes in Jim’s words. “I should be going. I’ll be in touch.” Jim grabs his coat off the rack and opens the front door, Castle trailing him like a puppy. “Oh, and Rick?” He turns back, steely eyes reminiscent of Beckett’s in the interrogation room. “Break her heart, and Esposito and Ryan will have a new murder to solve before the next morning.” 

“Duly noted,” Castle smiles. Jim Beckett shuts the door behind him with a click and Castle locks it. He arranges the pillows and blankets on the couch and gets ready for bed. No sounds come from Kate’s room, so she must already be asleep. He perches on the edge of the couch and withdraws his phone from his pocket. 

“Hey Alexis,” he says. 

“Hi, Dad!” She’s obviously excited—and maybe a little surprised—to receive his call. “How’s Detective Beckett? Did she get out of the hospital okay?” 

“Yeah, she’s home now,” Castle smiles. “How was your day?” 

He can imagine her grinning on the other end. “Well, any day that starts with smiley-face pancakes is bound to be a good one. Gram insisted I invite Ashley over and she vacated the loft for us. We spent the entire day watching movies from your zombie apocalypse shelf. And—“ She pauses for dramatic emphasis. “—he doesn’t use me as a human shield against the zombies like you do.” 

“Survival instincts are evolutionary,” Castle argues. “I can’t help that I’m more evolved than him.” “Sure, Dad. Keep telling yourself that,” Alexis laughs. 

“Okay, well, I’m glad you had fun,” Castle says. “I’ll let you get to sleep now. Wait. Are you ever going to tell me what happened during those few days you and Ashley weren’t speaking?” 

“I’m sorry, Dad, but it’s a family matter. Ashley asked me not to tell anyone.” She sounds sincerely apologetic. 

“Nah, it’s fine. Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“Night, Dad! Love you!” He places his phone back in his pocket and settles back onto the couch, pulling the blankets up over his body. For a couch, the sofa is surprisingly comfy. So he doesn’t know what it is that wakes him up in the middle of the night. But as he waits patiently for sleep to claim him again, he hears a faint sound in the darkness. He sits up, attuning his ears to it. Crying. Soft crying. 

He slips off the couch and pads down the hallway, coming to a stop outside Kate’s bedroom door. It’s definitely coming from inside. He places his hand gently on the door handle. 

Then he twists it and opens the door. 

Chapter Text

Moonlight combined with city lights streams in the window, playing across her body and accentuating the shadows of her form. She’s sitting up in the bed, legs tucked up to her chest and her head in her arms. Soft sobbing noises emanate from her, but as Castle takes another step forward a floorboard creaks. Her head whips up and she looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and red, cheeks wet, and body trembling like a leaf. 

“Hey, Kate, what’s wrong?” He moves quickly before she can react, sitting on the bed beside her. He hesitantly places an arm around her shaking shoulders and to his surprise she leans into him, placing her hand on his chest and burrowing into the crook of his arm. Her hair tickles his chin as he rocks her gently, heart swelling with both love and concern. 

He almost doesn’t catch her pained whisper. “I can feel the bullet, Castle.” 

He hugs her more tightly to him. “What do you mean?” 

“Whenever I’m asleep, I go back to that podium. And the man shoots me, again and again. I feel the bullet blast into me, dig into my chest, get lodged there. Castle, I can feel it there now, stuck inside me, and I can’t get it out.” She dissolves into tears again. “I can’t get it out, Castle. I can’t get it out.” 

He can feel her pain as if it were his own; as he cradles her he’s nearly in tears too. One hand strokes her hair and the other pulls her impossibly closer. “It’s not there, Kate, it’s not inside of you. It’s not there,” he whispers. Her pain is breaking his heart in two, overwhelming him with its intensity. He has no idea how she bore this much, alone, at the hospital. “It’s not there,” he repeats. She’s still trembling beneath him, and he’s still stroking her hair. He doesn’t know how to do this, how to comfort her. He’s never seen her like this before, never seen her in a complete breakdown. At the most he’s held her hand, once, twice. Maybe a hug. Never something like this. 

Castle feels desperately inadequate as she pulls away a little, looking up at him with a tear-streaked face. She retracts into herself a little, extracting herself from his embrace. He follows her, sliding fully onto the bed and leaning against the headboard. “Come here, Kate.” After a moment’s hesitation, she scoots close to him again and places her head on his shoulder. His arm wraps around her again, fingers smoothing her mussed hair. “It was just a dream,” he says. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” 

“Castle,” she says. A film of tears covers her beautiful brown eyes. “He hasn’t stopped hurting me.” 

“I know.” Castle’s silent for a moment. “When did you take your last pain medication?” 

“Afternoon.” Castle glances at the digital clock on her nightstand. 3:06 A.M. 

"I’ll get you some, okay?” 

“’kay.” He slips off the warm bed and walks out to the kitchen. He flicks the light on and is momentarily blinded. Castle fills a glass of water at the sink and finds the pills on the counter. He takes them back to her room, where she is seated in the same position as before and is staring off into space. 

“Don’t think about it,” Castle says softly. He holds out the glass and she takes it, hand shaking so much that a little sloshes out onto the blankets. He pops off the lid of the bottle and tips out two white pills. She downs them one at a time and sets the water on the nightstand. “Try to go back to sleep now,” he tells her. 

“I’m scared, Castle,” she whispers. She sounds like a child, so lost and broken. “I’m scared to go to sleep. I don’t want to die again.” 

“You won’t,” he promises. “You’re safe here. I’ll keep you safe.” He gently pulls the covers back over her form and she rests her head on the pillow, looking up at him. Her eyes search his, whether for truth, intent, or just for comfort. He doesn’t know if she finds what she’s looking for in them, but she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Like in the hospital, his hand finds hers and he grasps it firmly. 

He doesn’t know how long he watches her sleep. Definitely long enough that Beckett would declare him “creepy.” But there’s no trace of Beckett in the woman sleeping in front of him, nothing left of the detective he followed around for three years. And he’s not disappointed. He feels privileged that she would show him this side of her, a side he thinks not even Lanie has seen. Even though he likes Detective Beckett a lot, there’s something about this Kate that makes him love her a little bit more. 

Everything’s fuzzy as she blinks once, twice. Sunlight streams in the window, forcing her eyes to adjust quickly to the brightness. All her muscles are stiff and sore, probably from clenching them throughout the night as she lived in the nightmares. 

The nightmares. Last night. Castle. 

He’s no longer in the room, and for that she’s thankful. She doesn’t know how she’ll face him this morning, not after the events of last night. His embrace had been comforting, but in those same moments her walls slipped and let him peer inside. He has glimpsed her terror, her weakness, and she doesn’t like that at all. Her skin prickles and she feels vulnerable, fragile as a piece of glass. 

So she ignores the pain and stands up, beginning to piece herself back together. Doing what she does best. Kate hobbles to the floor-length mirror and stares herself down, willing herself to become whole once again. She changes her bandages and dresses casually. She steels herself mentally, hardening her resolve. Once she’s satisfied with her appearance and her outward strength, she steps out of her room and pads down the hallway. Each step is painful and her legs feel extra heavy to lift. What started as a dull ache in her chest quickly becomes a living hell, like someone has poured molten lava into her bullet wound, exacerbated by her increased respiration. She pauses on the edge of the couch with her hand working its way through her hair as she rests. The blankets and the pillow are neatly folded up in the corner, the only indication Castle slept here last night. When she’s regained some of her energy she continues on to the kitchen, entering and sitting down immediately. 

“Good morning,” Castle says from the stove. She can feel him studying her, so she meets his eyes with as much seriousness and firmness as she can muster. “How are you?” 

“Fine, Castle,” she says. Everything in her bearing and tone clearly says she doesn’t want to talk about it. Because talking about it would mean facing it. Facing the fact that she’s not everything she pretends to be. 

"Okay,” he takes the hint. “I made eggs.” He plops a steaming plate of them in front of her and uses the tongs to add two sausages. “Do you want anything else?” 

“No, this is great, thanks, Castle.” She smiles at him to show him that everything is all right. Inside, it’s anything but. Though her stomach is in knots, she forces herself to consume the eggs and sausages, tensing when Castle sits down across from her. 

“Newspaper?” he offers. He taps the front cover. 

“No,” she replies with a shake of her head. “How’s Heat Rises coming along?” 

“It’s not,” Castle says ruefully. “I discovered last night that I left an outline of chapters sixteen and seventeen at the loft, in my notebook.” He checks his phone. “And Gina wants the manuscript in...oh, great, ten days.” 

“You should go get it, Castle. Gina’s not the kind of woman you want to keep waiting.” Gina’s name brings up a host of bitter and forlorn feelings in Kate, remembering all too well the events of the previous summer. She had almost told Castle she’d go to the Hamptons with him, but by the time she worked up her courage—she even broke up with Tom Demming beforehand—he had found company in Gina, his publisher. 

“Don’t I know it, I was married to her.” Castle looks uncertainly at Kate. “Are you sure?” 

“It’s only a thirty-five minute trip there and back,” she says. “I’ll be fine.” He still looks unconvinced, so she adds, “I could use some alone time, anyways.” 

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “You’re sure?”

She gives him a look. “Just get going, Castle. And bring back some coffee on the way.” 

“Decaf, right?” 

“Unfortunately.” She nods to him. “The spare key’s by the fridge. Keep it.” He looks at her strangely, reading more into her words than she put into the practical request. Well, maybe she did mean more by it. She doesn’t even know anymore. 

“Okay. I’ll do the dishes when I get back. See you in a little bit!” He sets both their empty plates in the sink and walks towards the door. He pauses as he opens it. “Don’t forget to take your pain medicine.” 

Kate sighs. “I won’t.” 

He leaves, closing the door with a slight slam that makes her jump out of her skin. For a moment the world slides away and she’s lying on her back in the grass again, staring up at Castle with her life seeping out of her chest. Then she blinks and she’s back in her apartment, trembling slightly. This must be what Dr. Burke referred to as a flashback. 

Kate slowly stands from her seat and makes her way to the pain meds. She then collapses on the couch with them and a glass of water. They do make it easier to get through the day, because she’s noticed that when she’s in pain she’s more on edge. When she’s on edge, more stuff startles her. And apparently, being startled can cause flashbacks. Yet another glorious part of recovery she didn’t anticipate. 

Reaching out her arm to get a book from the shelf makes her chest protest loudly, but she persists and settles down with In a Hail of Bullets, Castle’s first novel. She hadn’t discovered it until the first Derrick Storm came out, when she had gone on a Richard-Castle rampage and bought all of his works in one week. It’s by far not his best novel—and that’s why she wants to read it again. It’s a reminder that not everyone’s perfect—and so it’s okay for her to not be too. She knows she struggles with that sometimes, and especially right now she needs to come to terms with it or it will tear her apart. As she turns to page two, the window catches her eye, the next building and a few beyond visible through it. A glint of sunlight reflects off the glass, and all of a sudden she doesn’t feel safe anymore. Anyone could look in and see her. Shoot her. 

She stands shakily and pulls the curtains over the window, blocking out the light. For a moment she’s satisfied, but then she notices the other two windows in the room. Hand pressed to her stomach to try to assuage the pain mounting in her chest from so much movement, she crosses into the kitchen to pull the blinds in there as well. It’s not enough until she has shuttered every one in the apartment, and even then she feels watched. Stalked. Hunted. 

Castle steps out of the cab when he reaches his apartment building, wondering who he’ll find inside. Even if Alexis or his mother is there, he doesn’t have much time to stop and chat. Leaving Kate all alone bothers him, though he knows it’s an irrational paranoia. She’s a grown woman, a cop no less, and perfectly capable of spending an hour or so alone. 

She doesn’t want to talk about last night, and he’s not surprised. A little disappointed, perhaps, but not surprised. It fits well with her personality. He shouldn’t have hoped that that one event would open her up to him. It’ll take time, and he accepts that. 

He slides his key into the lock and turns it, opening the door. An unwelcome sight greets him, and he just stands there for a second taking it in. Then he knocks rather loudly on the door and the two jump apart wearing identical startled expressions. 

“Hello, Ashley,” he says. 

“H-Hi, Mr. Castle, sir,” Ashley stammers, scooting a little further away from Alexis. Castle’s feelings are a jumble, amusement mixed with fatherly indignation, but mostly indignation. 

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Alexis asks, jumping up. She self-consciously smoothes down the front of her dress and runs a hand through her hair. Her face is reddening with embarrassment. 

“I was just picking up a notebook, but if you’re busy, I can come back later,” Castle says, still staring at Ashley. He says it in a way that leaves only one answer. 

“No, uh, not—not busy, at all, sir,” Ashley says, swallowing hard. “We were just, uh—“ 

“Kissing?” Castle suggests. 

“But nothing—nothing more,” Ashley promises. His eyes keep darting around, as if to check there’s no antique gun in the vicinity. Good, he’s scarred the boy. 

Castle stares him down for a second more, then relents. “I think I can trust you with Alexis...” he crosses into his office and picks up his little black notebook. When he comes back out, they’re both still watching him with wide eyes. “But don’t make me regret that decision. Remember—I work with cops.” 

“Yes, Mr. Castle. I respect Alexis. And you. I would never do anything to hurt her.” 

Castle smiles, opening the door. “I’m glad we understand each other.” He steps out and closes the door behind him. He places his hands on his knees and breathes heavily. The amount of tension in that room—though, granted, most given off by him—had been terrifying. He knows he can trust Alexis, and probably Ashley too, but the image of them making out on his couch is still one he cannot abide. And yet, it’s burned into his mind. 

After a moment more, he exits the building and hails a taxi back to Kate’s apartment, making a brief coffee stop along the way. He unlocks the door with the new key on his keychain—his key—and lets himself in. The apartment is dark, and he notices all the windows have the curtains pulled across them. “I’m back,” he calls into the gloom. “Sorry it took me so long; Alexis and Ashley were making out on the couch.” His explanation rings too loud in the space in front of him. “Kate?” 

There’s no response. It takes him only a minute to flick on the lights and search each room for her. And then it’s clear. 

She’s gone. 

Chapter Text

Castle’s heart pounds in his ears. How can she be gone? His hand fumbles in his jacket for his phone, calling hers. There’s a ringing from her bedroom, and he finds it plugged into the wall next to the nightstand. Where did she go? Why would she go without taking her phone, without leaving a note, without telling him? 

He sets the coffee down on the dining room table, leaving it steaming hot and all but forgotten. He dials Lanie and listens to it ring, one, two, three times before she finally picks up. “What is it, writer-boy? I’m right in the middle of an autopsy.” 

“Lanie, something’s wrong. I only left for an hour to pick up an outline from my loft and when I came back the apartment was dark and she was gone.” His words are a jumble, panic rising. 

“Whoa, Castle, slow down: what happened?” 

“Kate. Kate’s gone,” he says. 

There’s silence for a moment. “That can’t be right…she only left the hospital yesterday! She can’t have gotten that far, not in her condition.” 

“With the taxi system, she could be anywhere in the city!”

“You’re right. Castle, you don’t think they took her, do you?”

“What?” The thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

“Whoever shot her at the funeral didn’t manage to finish the job. You don’t think...” 

“No,” Castle says slowly. “There’s no sign of a struggle, the door’s intact...” The man on the phone said they would leave her alone. But Lanie doesn’t know about him. 

“Is there a security camera in Kate’s building?” Lanie asks. She seems to have gotten over her panic and is directing him calmly, something he desperately needs right now. Too many scenarios are running through his head, and none of them end well. 

“Um, yeah, I think so, but only in the elevator.” 

“Then call Javi. Make sure she didn’t go to him or Ryan, and then ask him to look at the footage. If he can’t get footage from that camera, he can look at the traffic cam outside her building. Do you have any idea why she would run away? Where she went will depend on why she ran.” 

“I don’t know,” Castle replies, running his hand through his hair and looking desperately around as if the apartment can provide the answers he seeks. He’s so scared it threatens to choke him. “I don’t know. Something here could have spooked her, or…or it could be me.” 

“Castle, why would she run away from you?”

“She had a breakdown, last night, and I comforted her. Then this morning she didn’t want to talk about it, like she was defensive. Kate runs away when people get too close. Maybe I—I got too close.” 

“Castle, listen to me: this is not your fault. Call Javi and Ryan. Call Jim too; make sure she didn’t show up at her dad’s place. I’m going to check a few of our favorite cafés before meeting you at the Twelfth.” 

“Okay,” Castle agrees. His hand is shaking as he dials the precinct. “Esposito.”

“It’s Castle. Kate’s gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” Esposito’s voice is low, quiet. 

“She’s not at her apartment. I only left for an hour, I didn’t—“

“Castle, you lost her? She’s badly injured, how do you lose someone like that?” 

Castle is beating himself up over this, and Esposito’s piling on doesn’t make much of a difference. All he cares about is finding her. “Lanie said you could check traffic cams outside her building.” 

“Yeah, I’m on it,” Esposito says. “Get down here as soon as possible.” 

“Okay,” Castle says, and hangs up. He scribbles a note to Kate—CALL ME, underlined a few times for good measure—and sticks it to her pill bottle. Then he sprints outside and hails a taxi, telling the driver to take him to the Twelfth as fast as possible, traffic lights be damned. The whole ride he’s searching his mind for possible locations she could have fled to, where she could have gone. By the time he arrives, Lanie and Esposito are already assembled, both looking positively worried. “Where’s Ryan?” Castle asks. 

“He’s coming,” Esposito answers quickly. “He had taken the day off and was spending it planning the wedding with Jenny.” 

Castle nods. “Do you have the footage?” 

“Yeah,” Esposito pulls it up on his computer. “We’ve been watching it in 4x for a couple minutes now, but nothing yet.” The three of them huddle around the monitor. People speed walk in and out of sight on the sidewalk and a bald man enters Kate’s building, but still no one comes out. The door opens again from the inside and a woman with long hair steps onto the sidewalk, moving slowly as if each step is painful. “That’s her,” Castle exclaims. 

“What the hell are you doing, Beckett?” Esposito mutters. “Look, she’s getting into that taxi.” 

“Can you track it using the cameras?” 

“Yeah, based on the plate and its direction of travel...” Esposito pulls up another three screens of footage, playing them one after the other. Castle’s heart pounds with anticipation. Their eyes are glued to the cab, following its movements from window to window. All of a sudden it’s gone. 

“Where did it go?” Castle asks, but neither Esposito not Lanie has an answer for him. Esposito rewinds the final frames and they spot the taxi turn into an underground parking garage. It never comes back out, but another few cars do. 

“Bro, why would she go there?” Esposito asks. 

“Or why would she switch taxis?” Lanie says. 

Ryan runs up to them. “I got here as fast as I could. Any news?” Jenny trails along behind him, looking just as worried as he does. With all of their faces, one would think somebody had died. The thought is not comforting to Castle. 

“No,” he says. “When I went back to the apartment, she was just gone. Then I came straight here.”
“Did you check the closets?” Ryan asks. “When I was a kid that was always the first place I would hide.” 

“Yes, of course I did,” Castle replies impatiently. “But we know she definitely left the apartment, we see her on the traffic cam. Her cab enters a parking garage and never comes back out again.” 

“Javi, can you track the other cab?” Lanie asks. 

“No, the camera on the exit isn’t good enough for me to make out the plates,” Esposito answers. “We have no idea where she went.” 

“Okay,” Castle says, breathing heavily. “Okay. Jenny, can you check your and Ryan’s apartment?” 

“Of course,” she nods. 

Castle doesn’t even pause, mind racing a mile a minute. “Ryan, you check that parking garage and then Jim’s place, in case she went back there. If she was at his job, Jim would have called. Esposito, stay here in case she comes to the precinct. It’s familiar; she might be running to here. Lanie, check your apartment and then go back to the morgue in case she was seeking you out. Alexis is at mine right now, so I’ll check the coffee place and dial up a few of her friends. What was her name? Madison, Madison Queller. I’ll start with her and then try some of the other recently used contacts on her phone.” 

“Don’t you think we should tell Gates?” Ryan looks uncertain.

“Do what you have to do,” Castle replies, practically sprinting out of the precinct. He hails a cab and directs the driver to their favorite coffee place. 

The proprietor greets him with a handshake, saying, “Great to see you, Rick! Kind of late for your usual order, though, isn’t it? Plus you already came in here once today. Are you coming off another all-night writing session and need a caffeine boost?” 

“Sorry, Marty, I’m not here to buy this time,” Castle answers, pulling out his phone. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Have you seen her?” He holds out a picture of Kate on his phone and the shop owner scratches his head. “No, sorry, Rick, I can’t say that I have. But I only got here a few minutes ago. Allen?” He calls to the man behind the counter. “Allen, have you seen this woman come in here today?” Castle shows him the phone. 

“Nope,” says Allen after studying it for a few seconds. “I’ve seen her in here before though, although not in a long while. Seemed nice. Is something wrong?” 

“No, I’m sure she’ll turn up,” Castle says, not believing his own words. “Thanks Marty. Give me a call if you see her.” 

“Will do,” Marty smiles. Castle exits the cafe and returns to the taxi he left waiting out front. 

When he arrives back at Kate’s apartment, it’s exactly like he left it before. As he enters, he calls out in vain, “Kate? Are you there?” but again there’s no answer. He scoops up her phone from her bedroom and slides to unlock. It wants a password. 

“Lanie, have you made any progress?” he calls her from his own cell phone. 

“Sorry, Castle, she’s not at my place.” 

“Well, in order to get into her phone, I need her passcode. Would you know it?” 

“You spent three years observing her work and you don’t know her passcode? I thought personal boundaries weren’t much of thing with you.” 

“Lanie!”

“Right, sorry. One-nine-nine-nine.” 

“The year of her mother’s murder,” Castle says as he types it in. Icons flow onto the screen of Kate’s phone. “Thanks, Lanie.” 

“Good luck,” she hangs up. Castle begins to sift through Kate’s contacts and calls a few of them that look promising, but none have seen her. When he reaches Madison, he calls from his own phone. 

“Hey, Madison, it’s Rick Castle.”

There’s a giggle on the other end. “Hey, Rick! I haven’t heard from you in a while!” “Yeah, but I uh, I’m calling about Beckett.”

“KBecks? Is she okay?” 

“Well, not exactly. She’s missing. Have you seen her? Has she come by your apartment or—or the restaurant?” 

“Oh my God! No, I haven’t seen her in a couple weeks. Q3 isn’t even open today; she’s not here. Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“Just stay on the lookout,” Castle hangs up. Fear and panic are rising in him again; he has exhausted all his avenues. She’s been missing at least two hours, more than enough time to get her in a heap of trouble as a cop without a gun. She could be lost. She could be collapsed on the sidewalk. She could be gunned down by a vindictive crime boss freshly out of prison. All of these stories and more he has seen coating the murder boards in the precinct, and it is unthinkable that she could join their number. But he can’t dwell on that. He promises himself he’ll never stop searching for her. When he calls them, neither Ryan nor Esposito have anything but ashen voices for him. 

“She definitely switched taxis in that parking garage,” Ryan tells him. It does nothing to comfort him, just keeps their search expanded to all of New York City. She could be anywhere, lost, hurt, frightened, confused... Disoriented would be an accurate frame of mind for her right now, he thinks. She must have been really out of it to leave like that. 

Although…changing taxis in an old parking garage required a definite presence of mind. The only reason for her to do that is…to escape someone? To not be followed? Who is she trying to keep off her trail? 

The man on the phone said she’d be safe. But Kate doesn’t know that. It’s the deadly secret Castle, Esposito, and Ryan swore to keep from her. 

Castle swallows hard. He has to do it. He has to call Jim. The father’s wrath will be terrible, or maybe it will just be a quiet, disappointed rage. Either way, it will be unbearable. Castle slowly searches down the list of contacts in his phone, adrenaline surging through his muscles in anticipation. All of a sudden, a call replaces his contact list, the green “Answer” button glowing invitingly. Castle does. “Castle.” 

“Mr. Castle, this is Joel from the Old Haunt. I think we may have had a break-in.” A break-in? That can’t be right. “What’s missing?” 

“Well, we’re not sure. All the cash in the register is still there, but someone’s been moving stuff down in the basement. We’d like you to come down and assess.” 

Kate. It has to be her. “I’m on my way,” Castle says, leaping for the door. “Don’t go down there; leave everything the way it is until I arrive.” If it’s truly a robbery, then he hasn’t spent three years working with the NYPD to let his own employees mess with a crime scene. If it’s Kate, then he doesn’t want any unfamiliar faces to spook her. He still doesn’t know what made her run in the first place. 

“Got it.” 

Castle stuffs his phone back in his pocket. When he arrives at the Old Haunt, he sprints up the steps and bursts in the door. There are a few customers seated in the booths, but in the middle of afternoon the bar is mostly empty. Soft music emanates from the piano, manned in the daytime by a balding man with graceful fingers. 

Joel spots him immediately. “Mr. Castle, good, you’re here.” He leads him to the bar, where another man is wiping it down with a rag, looking haggard. Castle recognizes him as a new hire that he approved sometime last month. “This is Damien Sanders, the bartender on duty. He’s the one that reported it.” 

“What did you see?” Castle asks. His years at Beckett’s side and in the interrogation room with her have given him edge in this. He is an expert at getting precise information. He learned from the best. 

“I went down to log some paperwork,” the man says, stuffing the rag under the counter. “When I went down, it was loud because the dishwasher was still running above so I didn’t hear anything. But then I noticed the bookshelf was shifted slightly, like someone had tried to get behind it and not put it back properly. We don’t know what’s back there, but we’re assuming it’s some kind of safe.” 

“Okay, stay here,” Castle orders. “I’m going to go check it out.” 

Joel looks uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t we call the police or something?” Castle ignores the question. He’s hoping so hard she’s down there that his head might explode from the strain. 

Castle walks expertly to the corner of the bar and pulls out the secret lever, twisting it until there’s a faint click and the trap door opens upward. His first step into the basement is hesitant, as are all the ones that follow. To come here…he can’t imagine what state of mind she must be in right now. He doesn’t want to startle her, although his heart is pounding louder than the noise of any step he could take. “Kate?” he whispers her name. There’s no answer, and he didn’t expect one. 

It takes Castle a minute to see what Sanders had meant about the bookshelf, which in reality only holds a few books and numerous metalworks. There’s a large crack between the wall and the edge of the shelves. “How did she...?” he murmurs. He strains against the bookshelf, shunting it sideways until the space is just wide enough to let him through. He takes out his phone and uses it as a flashlight, illuminating the secret Prohibition-era passageway and the cobwebs that hang above it. As always, the corridor has a dank, wet wood smell and clogs his nostrils with dust. 

He swings open the next door with one hand, stepping gingerly by as to not touch the antique weapon pinned to the other side. He reminisces as he continues on that she had once described this place as damp, cramped, dark, and full of rat pee—she must really be running from something to take refuge down here. Finally he reaches the pile of red bricks that marks the end of the tunnel as they’ve explored it and flicks on the lights. The cavern flares to life amid the drip, drip of unseen water, a burst of color his eyes were unprepared for. 

And there, right past the webbed chandelier—Kate. His mind floods with relief at the same time his heart overflows with love. She looks so peaceful there, curled up in a pile of burlap sacks. He kneels next to her, paying no heed to the layer of dirt caking onto his pants. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing softly, peacefully, wearing an almost contented expression in her sleep. She must have been exhausted when she arrived, created herself a cocoon of cloth, and fallen asleep. Seeing her now, like this, suddenly makes perfect sense in Castle’s head. He’s found the story. 

It wasn’t him she was running from after all. She never would have come here—to an establishment he owned —if trying to escape him. She fled to it because it was familiar, and…and secret. Another bout of realization washes over him. That’s why the curtains were drawn in the apartment. That’s why she left her phone, why she switched taxis where no cameras could track her. Her strength, even in her condition, amazes him: even sliding that bookshelf a few inches was incredibly taxing. She must have been in a true adrenaline-fueled panic. 

She thought she was in danger. She thought the shooter was coming back to get her, and didn’t feel safe in her own home. So Kate used all of her cop knowledge to avoid detection. This morning, when she had said she was fine…she had lied to his face. But that doesn’t matter now. She’s here; she’s safe. And that’s enough. 

He tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, careful not to disturb her. But he cannot keep from stroking it softly, waiting for her to wake up. Waiting for them to go home, together. 

Chapter Text

Kate stirs beneath his hand and Castle retracts it, already missing the softness of her hair and the comforting gesture. Her expression is languid until she realizes he’s there and she reaches for the gun on her hip. Except there isn’t one, not even a holster, and the sudden movement leaves her gasping in pain. 

“Kate! Kate, it’s me. It’s okay,” Castle says, touching her shoulder. She collapses back onto the burlap sacks, unmoving with her hair obscuring her face. Castle tries to as gentle as he can with both his touch and voice. “Kate, are you okay? What are you doing here?” She doesn’t answer. “Kate…” he touches her again and she doesn’t flinch away, brushing the hair over her shoulder in smooth strokes. Her eyes are squeezed shut, as if replaying some horrific event over and over in her head. He goes off the assumption that she’s not answering him because she’s trapped in her own mind, the same state of mind that caused her to run here in the first place. 

41319. 41319. 413… She can scarcely remember the number any more, much less what it stands for. All she can see in front of her is a great white light, blinding and all-encompassing. The ground she’s lying on seems to buck and sway of its own accord, and a confused jumble of voices follows her everywhere, but she cannot see the speakers. They are hidden from her. 

Her body is shunted sideways, pain exploding in her chest and slicing across her side. She can feel it fast approaching, a cold stealing across her muscles that turns her bones to ice. 

Suddenly the scene shifts and everything’s black. A rough cloth material digs into her hands and dust clogs her nose. There’s a warm pressure on her back, and she lifts herself up to find herself face to face with Castle. What’s he doing here? Where is she? 

Then a split second later it all comes rushing back, and the adrenaline she feels as well as the utter exhaustion of her muscles makes complete sense. As the agony abates, she slowly sits up, facing him but still looking inward. The last remnants of terrifying, vivid imagery still haunt her. When finally she is herself again and fully locked in the present, she starts thinking about what to say. His questions are convoluted, impossible for her muddled mind to answer, mostly because she doesn’t quite understand herself. Every action she took made sense in that panicked state, but now that she’s out of it she doesn’t know quite what she was thinking. Why she came to the Old Haunt is another impossibly difficult question. It just…felt right. All of the big questions—all of the ones Castle wants answers to—are difficult. 

But she can’t even come up with a suitable question of her own, because all that come to mind are large and hairy and involve even more thinking when she gets a response. She knows it’s been a long time since she left her apartment based on her parched tongue, and she also knows that Esposito, Ryan, and Lanie would be at the top of his call list if she went missing. She doesn’t want to think about what she put her team or her best friend through, because she can’t afford to be wracked with guilt right now. She’s holding together so feebly as it is. 

And then there’s her dad. He presents even more of an issue than the other three, and she sincerely hopes Castle didn’t apprise him of the situation. Her dad loves her dearly, and he would drop everything in a heartbeat—his friends, his job, his life—to be there for her if she needed him. Running away, she thinks, would definitely qualify. She adds her father to the list of things she wants to know but doesn’t want to deal with the answer. 

She’s been sitting there silent for well over two minutes and come up with absolutely nothing to say or ask. Everything is too big, too important, too complicated with too many ramifications. Once she asks, she’ll have to start doing, and she’s not ready to do much of anything yet. So the advice of Dr. Burke comes to mind: if you feel overwhelmed, start with something simple and work from there. 

“Did you find your outline?” The words just seem to slip out of Kate’s mouth without her permission. 

Castle stares at her for a second and then smiles as if mildly amused. “Really? We’re sitting up to our ears in filth in the secret bowels of a Prohibition-era bar and after everything that’s happened, you ask about my outline?” His tone is light and teasing, but Kate still wants an answer. “Yeah, yeah, I found it. Brought it back to your apartment. Why?” 

The long version involving complex and muddled emotions is too, well, long, so she goes with a short, but still true, reply: “I’m looking forward to reading Heat Rises.” A shadow crosses his face momentarily, so quick that she might have imagined it. But she’s a Detective, and she’s learned to trust her eyes not to play tricks on her. There definitely was a shadow. What it meant, she has no idea, but it was there. Briefly. “How’d you find me?” 

“Observant bartender upstairs,” Castle replies. The two sit in silence for another minute, Castle’s gaze scrutinizing and her own focused on the unbuttoned button at the top of his shirt. Finally Castle seems tired of waiting. 

“Kate, are you okay?” She shrugs in answer, yet another movement at which her chest protests. “Are you…do you want to go home?” 

She shakes her head like a small child. “My apartment isn’t safe.” 

Castle doesn’t even argue this like she expects him to, just says, “Then where is safe? I’ll take you anywhere, Kate, anywhere you want to go. My apartment, your dad’s place, the Hamptons, Paris…” 

She considers this. “My dad has a cabin the woods north of here. It’s secluded, out of the way.” “You want to go there?” 

She bites her lower lip, nodding. “The noises…the noises of the city startle me. Sirens, car horns, doors slamming…” 

Castle smiles reassuringly. “Then that’s where we’ll go.” He holds out his hand to her and she takes it, rising slowly to her feet. He supports her on her shaky legs as they make their way back up the stairs and into the main bar. Castle leaves her in a booth nearby to exchange a few words with the bartender, but she notices he keeps a close eye on her. Kate tries not to let it bother her. She’d like to promise him that it will never happen again, but she’s not sure herself. In this lucid state, the idea seems preposterous and out-of-the-question, but she definitely wasn’t in her right mind when she fled the apartment. There’s nothing she can do to guard against that state of mind again. She hates feeling so out of control, so she gazes at the lacquered wood table and concentrates on her breathing until Castle returns. In and out. In and out. 

A tap on her shoulder lets her know that it’s time to go. She stands willingly, waits patiently for a taxi, and sits quietly the whole way home. She sinks into the couch upon arrival, running one hand tiredly through her hair. 

“What’s this?” Castle asks. He’s kneeling down at the other side of the room next to a dark gray metal box. He hooks his fingers around the door and it swings open readily. 

“Close the safe, Castle,” she says coldly, but not before he removes a gun similar to her piece from the Twelfth. At the sight her heartbeat triples and her legs pull up to her chest. She shields her face with her arm, curling up into a ball. 

He hurriedly places the handgun back into the safe, shutting and locking it. “Kate, okay, the gun’s gone.” She hesitantly uncurls, taking in shuddering breaths. “Why do you have a gun? I thought the precinct was keeping yours until you’re back on duty.” 

“That’s mine,” she says. “My personal one.” 

“How long have you had it?” 

“Since the Scott Dunn case.” 

Recognition flares in his eyes. “Nothing like near death by a psychopath bomber who’s got you confused with your literary alter-ego to make you paranoid.” He looks at the safe again. “Why was it open?” 

“I tried to take it with me, before I left. But I couldn’t touch it.” She pauses, letting that sink in. “I couldn’t touch it, Castle. How am I supposed to be a cop when I can’t shoot a gun?” 

“Kate, no one’s expecting you to be a cop right now,” Castle says. He sits on the other end of the couch facing her. “You will go back to your job, and you’ll be as good as ever. But not for a little while. You were shot; cut yourself some slack.” She’s quiet, digesting this. “Oh—speaking of cops, I’d better call Esposito.” 

“Espo?” That snaps her back to attention. 

“Yeah. When you went missing, I called Esposito, Ryan, and Lanie to see if any of them knew where you were.” 

“Did you…did you call my dad?” 

Castle shakes his head and she’s immensely relieved. “They’ll be worried though.” He dials up one of them and puts it on speakerphone. 

“Esposito.”

“Hey, it’s Castle. I found her.” 

“Thank God, Ryan and I were just about to put out an APB.” Castle exchanges a worried glance with Kate. She’s glad he called just then, or she’d have a lot more explaining to do. 

“May I speak with her?” Lanie’s voice comes over the phone. Kate’s eyes widen and she shakes her head emphatically no. 

Castle’s brow creases. “Sorry, Lanie, she’s sleeping right now.”

Her friend sounds disappointed. “Oh, okay. Tell her to give me a call when she wakes up.” 

“Will do,” says Castle uneasily. 

“Where did you find her?” Esposito asks. 

“At the Old Haunt,” Castle says, “in the tunnels. I guess it was the only place she could find that felt safe. She slept more peacefully there than she ever does her, for hours straight. I didn’t want to wake her up.” 

“Wait a second, bro,” says Espo. “You were watching her sleep for hours? And you didn’t think to call? We were worried too, man!” 

“Writer-boy, you’ve got some nerve,” Lanie adds in her best pissed-off voice. Kate wants to warn Castle to defuse the situation before she gets into her stride but she can’t without being heard on the call. She feebly motions over her throat for him to stop. Castle. Stop. Stop talking. Stop talking! Unfortunately, Castle doesn’t seem to be very adept at the nonverbal cues. Maybe because he spends too much time opening and closing his mouth. 

“Sorry guys, I just didn’t think—“ 

“Hell yeah, you didn’t think! You didn’t think about any of us! We’re her friends too, Castle, and we’ve been worried sick about her!” Kate can’t take the yelling anymore; it’s too much for her to handle right now and dredges up too many emotions. She slides off the couch and into the kitchen in search of pain medication. Which she’s a dose behind on today already. 

After downing the pills, she can still hear Castle’s indignant voice and Lanie’s screeching from the other room, so she heads to hers and shuts the door. Even that doesn’t block the noise out, not even when she insulates her head with pillows. After a few minutes she can’t hear anyone but Castle and can only assume he took it off speakerphone to not upset Kate further. Well, too late. She’s already upset. 

Castle shoves his phone back into his pocket, a mixture of anger and guilt coursing through him. He gives himself a few seconds to calm down and then stands up. He checks the kitchen first for her and then sees her closed bedroom door. He knocks on it softly and, when there’s no response, opens it. She’s asleep again, brown hair framing her head like a silky mane. Her chest rises and falls softly. 

He leaves her be but keeps the door open so he can better hear if something goes wrong. Then he walks to the closet and fetches a suitcase, wondering briefly why she has two. His writer’s mind immediately begins weaving a story, something about spending a semester in Kiev in college. His is sitting in the corner of the room, but he still has to repack it to fit everything. He wonders if this cabin in the woods has a laundry machine. 

“Hey, Jim, it’s Rick,” he says, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Rick. I was just about to call and check up on Katie. Is everything all right?” 

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine,” Castle replies evasively. “Kate had the idea to move into the cabin in the woods for a little while. Would that be okay?” 

“Sure.” There’s a pause in which neither of them speaks. “Why?” 

“We think getting away from the city, where it happened, would help her recovery. She’s…” Castle’s finding it difficult to explain this without making it sound too awful. “She’s having some trouble sleeping, so maybe getting away from it all into the peace and quiet would help.” 

“I understand,” Jim says. “Give me an hour, and I’ll be right over with the keys. If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to her before you leave.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Castle agrees. “That’ll give me time while you’re here to pick up my car from the loft. See you in an hour.” 

“Bye.” 

Castle sighs and leans against the pillows of the couch. Then he drags himself up and into Kate’s room. He pauses a minute in the threshold, trying to decide whether it’s better to let her sleep or let her prepare for her father’s impending visit. 

“Kate.” He doesn’t shake her for fear of hurting her, but her expression of terror as she wakes clenches his heart. 

“Castle,” she runs her hand groggily through her hair and glances at the window. “It’s nighttime. What is it?” 

“It’s only nine o’clock. Your dad will be here in about fifty minutes.”

“You told him?” All of a sudden her voice is laced with fear.

“No, just about moving to the cabin in the woods.” 

“Oh,” she relaxes. 

“Anyway, he’s coming over here to drop off the keys and chat with you a bit. I thought you might want some time to…compose yourself a little.” 

She nods. “Thanks, Castle.” 

“We also should pack your suitcase for the cabin.” She moves to get up and he stills her with a hand on her shoulder. “No, I’ll do it. Keep resting; it’s going to be a long ride.” 

Castle opens the suitcase at the foot of her bed and pulls out her bottom drawer. “Socks?” 

“Yeah.”

“Which ones?”

“They’re socks, Castle. They’re all the same. Just pick some.” 

Castle shrugs. “Your wish is my command. But at my place, I own socks with designs on them.” 

“Like what? Pink bunny socks?” 

Castle smiles. “Actually, yes. Alexis gave them to me for my birthday.” At Kate’s look of confusion, he adds, “She was five.” 

“Ah. Well, I don’t have pink bunny socks, so any will do.” Castle sighs and turns back to the drawer, eyes falling upon her collection of lingerie. After a moment’s hesitation, he closes that drawer and proceeds to the next. She had taken on a pained expression at the sight of them…he wonders just how badly she’ll scar from the bullet wound. Not that it matters to him, of course—she’s alive, and that’s all he can ask for. A scar can’t quench the love he feels for her. Nothing can. 

He’ll let Kate pack those herself. They spend the next half hour selecting clothes for her to bring, which consisted mostly of him suggesting, her arguing exasperatedly, and eventually Kate just dictating his movements. “No, Castle, the other red one.” 

“What other red one?” 

“That one, right under your hand! No, back the other way…yes, that one.” 

“I’m sorry,” Castle says, holding it up, “that is not red. Had you said ‘the burgundy’ I would have known what you were talking about.” He packs it into the suitcase, pressing down on the piles of clothes so that they’ll all fit. “There, done.” As if right on cue, there’s a knock on the door. “I’ll get it.” 

“’Kay.” She pulls her legs into a more comfortable sitting position and blinks several times, trying to look as awake and alert as she can. Castle gives her a thumbs up before exiting the room and opening the door. 

“Hey, Rick,” Jim greets him.

“Good to see you,” Castle says. “I won’t be gone long, just picking up my car from the loft.” 

“That’s all right,” Jim says. “Katie’s in her bedroom?” 

“Yeah,” Castle nods. Castle steps out and takes the elevator down to the entrance and then hails a cab to his place. He unlocks the door quietly, intending to inform Alexis of the change in plans but instead finds a note on the counter. 

Gram-
Going to a late movie with Paige, Zed, and Ashley. Will be home around 11:30. 
<3 Alexis  

Castle resolves to call Alexis in the morning, seeing as he doesn’t have the time to wait for her to get home. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Jim—obviously Kate’s father has nothing but her best interests at heart—but after the events of today Castle doesn’t even want to let Kate out of his sight. It had been hard just letting her sleep in her room without sitting next to her, and probably would have been impossible had the window been any larger or the three-story drop outside any shorter. It doesn’t help that he can’t warn Jim about the danger of Kate disappearing. 

Driving his own car back to the apartment is therapeutic and relaxing. Or, it is until some idiot screams across the red light and Castle has to slam on his brakes to avoid getting flattened. He’s not driving his Ferrari either. Most people, when given the choice would choose the Ferrari any day, but as a best-selling author with droves of fangirls—some of whom should be classified as psychotic—he appreciates the value of being nondescript. 

After letting himself in—Castle doubts the novelty of having his own key to her apartment will ever wear off —he waits patiently in the kitchen for Jim and Kate to finish talking. When at last Jim emerges, he sits across from Castle and places the key to the cabin in the palm of his hand. Castle pockets it. 

“I’m surprised she wanted to go back there.” 

Castle senses a story coming on and automatically has his curiosity piqued. Long gone are the days when Beckett-stories were merely fodder for Nikki Heat. Now Castle just wants to hear them because they explain a little more of Kate Beckett. “Why?” 

“Katie has scarcely been back to that cabin since Johanna’s death. The last time we went as a family was just a month before her murder, and the family tradition just seemed to stop there. I go back every Christmas, but I didn’t think Katie would want to go back there too often. Too many memories, I guess.” Castle nods his understanding. “Anyway, if she’s willing to go back there, then the city must be really getting to her.” Castle doesn’t trust himself to speak; there’s so much he could tell Jim if he opened his mouth. But that would be a violation of Kate’s trust, and there’s little he values more. 

A small, nagging part of him reminds him of the major secret he’s keeping from her. But he crushes it down. There’s no need to bring up the mystery man on the phone just yet, not when returning to the precinct is so far off. 

“Rick?” 

Castle refocuses on the conversation at hand. “Sorry, I missed that last part.” 

“Not caught up in any of those fantasies, are we?” Jim asks, a twinkle in his eyes. “I said, take care of her. And if you need anything—anything at all—don’t hesitate to call. Goodbye, Rick.” 

“Bye,” says Castle. He watches Jim leave before heading to Kate’s room. “How’d your chat with your dad go?” 

“Fine,” she answers with a half-hearted smile. “I finished packing. Can we go?” 

“Ready when you are.” Castle holds out his hand and helps her up, sticking by her side until she’s stabilized on her feet. “Can you make it?” 

“Of course.” She’s trying to sound determined but Castle can hear the uncertainty in her voice. So he stays close with the two suitcases to the door, in the elevator, and waits to load them in the trunk until she’s situated comfortably in the passenger seat. She’s not in any condition to run anywhere, so Castle chances a trip back to her apartment to check that everything is secure before they leave. He grabs an extra blanket for the ride and spots the lonesome cup of coffee on the table, long since cooled to cold. He dumps it in the sink and chucks the cup, trying not to think about the utter panic he had felt when placing it on the table. 

Then he tucks the blanket in around her, gets a murmured, “Thanks, Castle,” for his efforts, and pulls away from the curb, her apartment, and his life in New York City. 

Throughout the trip, Castle can tell Kate is trying to sleep, but the car bounces and rocks too much for her head to rest comfortably on the headrest. Neither of them speaks, however, and Castle focuses on driving safely in the dark. There’s a new moon tonight, and the road is especially hard to see. He’s using his phone for GPS, but the glowing screen messes with his vision as well. 

It seems like Kate has just dozed off when Castle pulls into the parking space and turns the car off. The headlights wink out of existence, leaving them in absolute darkness save his phone. She sleepily exits the car, swaying on her feet, and Castle almost carries her into the cabin. Exploring will have to wait until tomorrow, he thinks. She points out both bedrooms to him. 

“This one was mine,” she says, pointing with an unsteady hand. The use of past tense does not escape him. “And that one was my parents’. You can sleep in there.” Castle, who had been expecting the couch, nods, humbled by her letting him use her mother’s bed. Kate—for lack of a better word—totters into her bedroom and Castle pulls the covers up over her. Her eyes are half-closed as he says goodnight, but that doesn’t stop her from responding in kind. 

Just as he’s about to leave, her eyes flick open. “Castle, I lied,” she says. He frowns slightly. “I remember. I remember everything.” 

For a moment it feels like the world is coalescing around him, the air turning to liquid and choking him. What is she about to tell him? Why here, why now? 

Her beautiful brown eyes gaze up into his. “I remember. And I’m glad you’re here. Thank you.” 

His hand finds hers under the blankets. “Always, Kate. Always.” 

Chapter Text

Castle awakes to bright light streaming in, birds chirping outside the window, and the scent of pine trees that permeates every inch of this place. Everything is right with the world; a delicious happiness has hold of him and wraps around him like a warm, fluffy blanket. Overhead pipes grumble and he hears water running. Kate must already be up and in the shower. 

Kate. She is the reason for this absurd amount of happiness, more than he felt at either of his weddings. He doesn’t know what changed her mind, what made her finally reveal that she remembered his words from the shooting. Maybe she’s beginning to trust his love after all. Maybe she’s been working up the courage all along. Whatever the reason, he’s just glad she did. 

Castle leaps out of bed and pulls on some comfortable clothes, determined to have some breakfast cooking by the time she gets out. He had just shoved most of the perishables into the fridge last night, and when he opens it now a package of bacon falls out onto the floor. Bacon, he thinks. There’s nothing better than the aroma of sizzling pig meat and grease in the morning. Jim bought it, so Kate must enjoy the stuff. Besides, it’s a crime to dislike bacon—she’d have to arrest herself. 

He hunts for a pan and places it on the gas stove, lighting the flames with a flick of his wrist. The fire glows a cherry red before converting to blue as Castle waits for it to warm up. When it’s hot enough, he places strips of meat onto the pan, listening to them hiss delightedly. 

“Is that bacon?” Kate emerges from her bedroom. She’s wearing minimal makeup and a thick sweater and sweats. The sweater has ‘Stanford’ emblazoned in red across the front. Her damp hair dangles messily over her shoulders and down her back. 

“Know anything else that smells this good?” Kate smiles and sits at the little table. “No, Kate, I don’t think you’re appreciating this scent enough. Breathe it in deeply, through your nose, like it’s a heavy perfume.” She rolls her eyes and then does as he says. 

She sneezes. “Ow. Ow, that hurt.” One hand clutches at her chest. “Sorry, I’ve still got dust in my nostrils from those tunnels.” 

“Oh, never mind then,” Castle says apologetically. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She removes her head from her chest and reaches for the pill bottle, overturning it and downing one.

“Aren’t you supposed to take two in the morning?” Castle asks. 

“The pain’s not that bad; I can do without,” she replies easily. Castle turns away and back to the stove, frowning slightly. The doctor prescribed powerful pain medication for a reason. He thinks she should take them as specified, but it’s not his place to interfere. He’s not quite sure what his place is in this relationship. 

He’s come a long way from being just her acquaintance, or just her favorite author. Although he was delighted to see all twenty-four of his books on the shelf in her living room. But no, back to the topic at hand. He was her partner at the precinct, and will be again in a few months, but right now, what is he? Had he asked himself this yesterday he would have said “friend” but now that she’s admitted she knows he loves her, what is he? What are they? 

Castle barely manages to flip the bacon over before they burn. “You okay, Castle?” she asks. She’s staring at him with a bemused expression on her face. 

“Fine. Why, did you say something?” He tries not to stare guiltily back at her. On second thought, he feels bad for trying to categorize their relationship. It was a big leap of faith for her to confide in him last night, and barely ten hours later he’s already rushing her into the next stage. 

“I asked how you slept.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“My dad used to complain about the chatter of the birds outside the window in that room.” 

“Nope, I like them.” 

She smiles slightly. “So did my mother.” She pauses, not seeming particularly distraught by the memory. Or maybe she’s just hiding it. “Have you discovered the boxes of comic books in the other room? Not as big a collection as you have, but I guarantee there are some in there you haven’t read before,” she says. 

He serves the food, sitting down across from her. “Don’t tempt me. I’m supposed to be finishing Heat Rises, remember? Gina wants it finished by the eleventh so she can dip it in a bucket of red ink.” 

“How much editing does go into your books, Castle? Are your words not as perfect hot off the press as when they hit the bookstores?” She’s teasing him, this little smirk on her face that makes him want to kiss it right off of her. 

“I’ll show you when I get the manuscript back. You can barely see the text through the red scribbles.” She laughs softly and picks up a piece of bacon with her fingers, eating it daintily. He shovels eggs in his mouth to mask his staring. “Hey, you should come to the next book release. I think you’d like it.” 

“Like what, watching you sign all those pathetic women’s chests? I think not.” She’s grinning now, eyes alight with good-natured ribbing. 

“You’d be my sanity amidst the chaos. I mean, we met at the one for Storm Fall; you know what it’s like. I need familiar company other than my ex-wife—she’s too familiar.” 

“What about Alexis? She was there for that one, as I recall.” 

“She’s decided she’s tired of being dragged along. Apparently it’s ‘scarring’ to see me flocked by so many young and beautiful women. And the old ones too. They’re like vultures.” He stops, narrowing his eyes at her over the breakfast plate in front of him. 

“What?” she asks, truly nonplussed. 

“Did I ever sign your chest?” He’s aware of the fact that the question comes out of nowhere and loves that it catches her completely off-guard. She chokes slightly on her water. 

“If you can’t remember, then you’re never gonna know, Castle.” Her eyes play with his, taunting and daring him across the table. 

“Come on,” he whines. “You know how many I sign at just one release?” 

“Not winning you any points here.” She’s practically bubbling over with mirth, but he doesn’t know whether to take that as a confirmation or denial. He’s racked his brain numerous times to see if he can recall her, but if she did come she didn’t make much of an impression. None of them do, really. 

Ooh, except for that one chick with the…no, never mind. 

Castle refocuses quickly, trying to reel his mind back into the present. Don’t go there, not when Kate’s sitting right across from him. “So, um, what are you planning to do after breakfast?” he clears his throat. “Do you need me, or should I start writing?” 

“I’m going to go through the exercises Dr. Sven showed me in physical therapy,” Kate answers. “Go ahead; go write. Don’t make me responsible for Gina getting on your case.” 

Castle smiles. “Hey, without you, she wouldn’t have anything to get on me about.” 

“You wrote twenty-two novels before our partnership; you would have had no trouble writing many more without me,” Kate says. 

Castle tilts his head. “But no muse I ever found would have been as special as you.” 

Her head whips up and then lowers, hair obscuring most of her face. “Thanks, Castle,” she says softly, a small smile playing across her lips. He’s confused by her sudden shyness. He’s said sweet things like that to her before, hasn’t he? 

He feels the need to break the silence. “But anyways, off to write!” He takes her plate and his own and puts them in the sink, filling them with a little water so the food won’t stick. He enjoys cooking much better than he does cleaning, which suits him well at home. Besides baking, Alexis isn’t that into the culinary arts and Martha is just inept at it. Here, however, it’ll all just stack up if he doesn’t do it. Still…nothing wrong with a little healthy procrastination. 

He fetches his laptop from his room and sits down on a comfy chair in the living room with it. Soon he’s tapping away at the keyboard, lost in the world of Nikki, Rook, Lauren, and Roach. When he looks up again, she’s lowering herself into splits on the floor of the living room. He can’t help but watch the flexibility of her body over the top of his laptop, eyes just peeking out over the screen. 

She reaches forward, stretching her arms before switching legs. Perspiration wets just the edges of her face, and her eyes are half-closed. He wonders if that means it’s relaxing or that it’s painful. 

His laptop lies forgotten on his lap, displaying its “You Should Be Writing.” message before fading completely to black. In one particularly convoluted pose, her shirt slips, revealing several inches of tanned, creamy skin. Thoroughly entranced, he jumps when she speaks. “Castle. You’re ogling.” 

“I’m not ogling,” he says, trying but failing miserably to avert his eyes. 

“Castle, stop ogling!” 

“I’m not ogling.” She returns to a standing position and gives him a flat stare, hands on her hips. “Yeah, I’m ogling. It’s just, you’re right there, and...” 

“Relax, it doesn’t mean anything, Castle. It’s called stretching, not a booty call.” She snaps her fingers. “Castle. Eyes. Computer.” 

“Right,” he mutters, swiping his finger across the touchpad to wake it back up. She resumes her exercises, but he can’t help but sneak a peek ever once in a while. After all, she is his muse. He’s just gathering inspiration. 

Words just seem to flow into his fingers and onto the page for the next he-doesn’t-know-how-long, sweeping him away into the Zone. The Zone, where nothing else matters except the characters and plotline at hand. 

“Castle.” 

He’s just developed an acute pinkie cramp when another great idea pops into his brain, filling him with an excitement he’s never found in anything else except writing. The words are flying now, riddled with typos and missing spaces, but he dares not stop for fear of losing the words blazing in his mind. 

“Castle.” 

Nikki, what does Nikki do next? She calls Roach, right, no, maybe just Oach. Or is it Rales? He’s weighing the two options against one another, which fits better? Which would Beckett call? 

“Ca-stle!” The sing-song voice jerks him out of it. 

“What? Sorry, did you say something?” Castle’s groggy, like he’s just woken up from a deep sleep. Or, rather, a deep write. 

“Your phone’s ringing,” Kate answers, gesturing to it with her water bottle. The look she’s giving him as he reaches for it makes him wonder exactly how long it’s been ringing. 

Caller ID says it’s Alexis. He racks his brain—no, he never did tell her they were going out to the cabin. Time to break the news. 

“Hey, pumpkin,” he greets her. “What’s up?” 

“Dad, where are you?” She sounds half-angry, half-freaked out. 

“I was just about to call you. Kate and I went to her dad’s cabin up north.” There’s dead silence on the other end. “Alexis?” 

“How long have you been there?” Her voice is curt, sharp.

“Just arrived today,” Castle says. Technically, it’s not a lie. They arrived past midnight last night, so… 

Unfortunately Alexis isn’t a big fan of technicalities. “Don’t lie to me. I talked to the doorman; he said you left last night. When were you going to tell me, Dad?” 

“I…” Castle moves to defend himself. 

“We just talked about this the other day. I thought you understood that I didn’t like being left out of discussions that affect me! But it’s obvious now: you care more about Beckett than you do me.” 

His mind is still playing catch-up. “Wait, how did you know we were gone? Did you go to her apartment?” 

“Yeah, Ashley and I baked cookies this morning. We thought it would be a nice gesture.” She’s spitting the words at him now. 

“Listen, sweetie, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. There were…complications…and we had to leave. You are right; it was wrong of me to not discuss this with you first.” 

“No, Dad, you don’t get it. I gave you a second chance last time, a chance to show me that I meant just as much to you. But you went and put her before me again! You knew exactly how I would feel about it, and that’s why you waited so long to call.” 

“Please, Alexis, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s too late now. And don’t bother trying to come back to the city to talk with me and fix it, I’m leaving.” 

“Leaving?” That throws him for a spin. 

“Yeah, Mom came over this morning. Apparently she had caught a flight from LA to New York for a long- shot audition that didn’t go so well. She wanted me to come with her on a two week-long trip to Europe— London, Paris, Venice, the works. I told her no, there was too much going on here, but I called her back later and said I would. She even asked me to check it with you—I know, imagine that, right?—but I’m done checking things with you when you won’t do the same for me. She and I leave in an hour for the airport. Plane to Lisbon and then Paris.” 

“Wait, Alexis, I didn’t mean—Meredith’s taking you to Europe?” 

“Talk to you in two weeks, Dad. I’ve got to pack my stuff.” The line clicks dead. Castle removes it from his ear, staring at it helplessly. Kate watches from the sofa. He can’t believe how much the situation just exploded. Where had Martha been in all this? 

He taps her number and listens to it dial and then go straight to voicemail. Perfect. “Mother, call me when you get this,” Castle growls. 

Meredith? Hers goes straight to voicemail as well, with a lovely custom message waiting for him in her chirpy voice. “Hi! You’ve reached Meredith, but I’m currently with my wonderful daughter on a no-cell-phones girls’ day out! If this is about an audition, please leave a message. If you’re an unhappy ex-boyfriend, by all means don’t!” 

Just hearing her high-pitched tones makes Castle’s blood boil. It’ll do no good to leave Meredith a voicemail now; she won’t see it until they’re at least in Lisbon and it’s too late by then. He hates playing the overprotective, jealous parent—and Meredith maneuvers him into that position all too often as it is. He also supposes he counts as an unhappy ex-boyfriend. 

Great. One redhead immensely angry at him, one aggravatingly aloof and taking said redhead to Europe, and the third redhead AWOL and oblivious to it all. He makes a mental note to avoid redheads in any of his future relationships; they seem to be especially maddening. 

Kate scoots across the couch to come up next to him. She hesitantly places a hand on his arm. “You okay, Castle?” 

“Not really.” 

Chapter Text

Kate pauses, considering carefully what she’s doing. She really has no place in this matter, except maybe of that of a concerned friend. “What’s going on?” She keeps her voice gentle, pushing a little but slow enough that he can stop her whenever he wishes. 

“Alexis,” he says slowly, as if still trying to wrap his head around it. “I didn’t tell her that we were leaving the city; I was going to today. But she found out, and now she’s angry with me. She thinks I put you before her. She…she left with Meredith for Lisbon!” The pained expression on his face causes her heart to clench as well. Kate can’t help but feel like this is somehow her fault, that somehow she’s responsible. But she knows Castle would never want her to take the blame. 

“I’m sorry, Castle,” she says softly. 

“I just don’t get it,” he says. He’s not really speaking to her; it’s more of a thinking-out-loud thing. “I mean, I screwed up, I know that. I would be surprised if she wasn’t mad. But...but Meredith? To Europe? Meredith practically redefined the meaning of child neglect!” Castle’s knuckles are white and clenched against the edge of the recliner. “And why would she jump to the conclusion that I’m putting you over her? It doesn’t make any sense!” 

Apparently this isn’t a monologue after all. Kate frowns, thinking quickly before jumping in. “Think about it from her point of view, Castle. You’re right, Meredith left when Alexis was what, five? As great a parent as you are—“ 

“Not so great right now,” he mutters under his breath, but lets her continue. 

“—as great a parent as you are, going from having a mom and a dad to just having a dad is going to be traumatic for any child.” 

“Yeah,” Castle nods. “Alexis was heartbroken when Meredith left. She used to write letters all the time and give them to me to send, only for the first six months I didn’t even have an address. More than once I found her all dressed up sitting on the couch and waiting for Meredith to take her out for Saturday brunch like she always did.” 

“Exactly. To Alexis, at least subconsciously, you’re acting like her.” 

“Meredith left to be with her director,” Castle says slowly, putting the pieces together. “And I left...to be with you?” Kate chooses to ignore the romantics of that statement. “That’s nothing alike! I didn’t walk out on Alexis like Meredith did!” 

“I’m not trying to blame you, Castle, I’m just trying to provide her perspective. I was a teenage girl once too. She doesn’t understand why you would just up and leave like that.” 

“…because I didn’t tell her,” Castle says. “So, what do I do now? I can’t go flying off to Lisbon chasing after them.” 

“She’s just trying to punish you. From what I’ve seen and heard about Meredith, Alexis will be sorry she went soon. I know Alexis acts like a mature adult a lot of the time, but you have to remember she’s still a teenage girl.” 

“It’s hard,” says Castle. Kate waits for clarification before she responds. “It’s hard trying to keep Alexis straight in my head. She acts like an adult most of the time, parenting me as much as I parent her. But when I look at her, I still see the little girl who would spend hours with her hands plastered to the window of the candy shop. And I have to reconcile those two images with the fact that she’s my teenage daughter, getting older with every passing year and nearly all grown up.” While the candy shop memory had caused him to smile, with this last revelation his gloomy look returns. “I need some time to think,” he says. Kate understands completely. “You should call Lanie.” Her face pales and her blood turns to ice. It’s not that she forgot that Lanie was awaiting her call, but she’d been avoiding the encounter. She doesn’t want to have to explain her erratic behavior. 

Castle seems to sense her apprehension. “You’d better do it. We don’t need two people mad at us for not calling.” 

Kate nods unhappily. “Where’s my cell phone?” She moves to get up, ignoring the pain radiating from her chest. The pain is constant now, and she can almost learn to ignore it. Almost. 

He leaps to his feet, setting his laptop on the ground. “I’ll get it.” She opens her mouth to protest and then thinks better of it. Her muscles are already worn out for the day, and she has a sinking feeling she’ll be sore tomorrow. But every second with minimal pain and clear thinking is a gift, and she’ll take all of them she can get. It’s strange to think that just a month ago she was worried about interrogations and what she was going to wear that day. Now she’s just happy to not feel like screaming in pain and to be thinking straight, two things she took for granted so easily before. 

He returns with her cell phone and then retreats to his room, whether to give her privacy or to give it to himself she doesn’t know. She stares at the phone for a second before dialing, readying herself. “Hey, it’s Kate.” 

“Good to hear your voice, Kate,” Lanie says. “How’re you feeling, girl?” 

“Better, Lanie, thanks,” she replies. 

“Glad to hear it. Writer-boy was awful worried. We all were.” 

“Sorry. It won’t happen again.” It seems wrong to make a promise she isn’t sure she can keep, but there’s really no other response she can give. 

“Gave us a scare, but we’re just glad you’re safe. How are the nightmares?” 

Kate shifts in her seat. “They’re still here. Not going away anytime soon I don’t think.” 

“I’m sorry.” Uncomfortable pause. “How’s living with Castle going?” 

Kate glances at the bedroom door. It remains firmly closed. “He’s great, Lanie. Really caring, sweet.” 

“Aha,” Lanie says in a mischievous voice. “Javi owes me twenty bucks. He said writer-boy’d drive you crazy within three days running around your apartment like a chicken with its head cut off.” 

“Actually, we’re not at the apartment,” Kate says in a strangled voice. “We moved to my dad’s cabin.”

“Wow, girl, you took him up there? I’m...I’m surprised.”

“Well, I needed to get out of the city,” she replies evasively.

“Kate, you’ve barely set foot in the place in twelve years. How’re you holding up? Does he even know?” 

“No, he doesn’t. I’m fine, Lanie. I’m in my room and he’s in my parents’.” She can imagine Lanie’s raised eyebrows across the phone line. “Well, it seemed cruel to stick him on the couch. The memories in there, they won’t bother him.” 

“As long as you’re sure, Kate. Is the cabin really better than the city?”

“Yeah, it is. Too many things remind me of the shooting back there. Here, everything’s different.” 

“How much do you remember?” Lanie asks in a hushed voice. 

Kate swallows. “Everything. The nightmares won’t let me forget a second of it. I remember...I remember standing at the podium, giving the speech. I remember the impact of the bullet and Castle knocking me down.” As she relates it to Lanie, it’s like she’s reliving it again. She clenches her fists and bites her lip to keep from screaming, and cuts the rest of her explanation short. “I remember the words he said to me, you, the ambulance ride, even the surgery. Even dying.” Fear-induced adrenaline makes her fingers feel like they’ve been dipped in icy water. This isn’t a flashback, and she’s grateful for that. Flashbacks are triggered; these are just frightening memories. Both cause trembling and fear, but only flashbacks can cause her to lose control. And she wants to stay in control. 

“I’m sorry, Kate. Listen, are you and Castle...?”

“What?” Kate is shocked out of her reverie. “No! No, we’re not together. Why would you ask that?” 

“Well girl, he did tell you he loved you at the funeral! Then you sent him away at the hospital, and now he’s back in your life even more than before. I had to ask.” 

“No, we’re not,” Kate repeats, as much to herself as to Lanie. “His words at the funeral could have been desperation because I was dying. Do you think he wants to…be…together? I mean, I’m not sure—“ 

“Not sure! What is there to be not sure about? The guy’s been following you around like a puppy for three years.” 

“He’s been following Detective Beckett. But I’m not her right now; I can’t be her. What if that’s who he thought he was in love with?” 

“Come on, Kate. As someone who’s met both sides of you, there’s no way Castle could fall for one and not the other. The guy is crazy about you! And despite your little act, you are crazy about him.” Kate makes an indignant noise in her throat and Lanie scoffs. “What, was that supposed to be some big secret?” 

“Yes,” Kate says emphatically. Then she realizes she just admitted to it. “No.” She pauses. “Do you think he knows?” 

“Current living arrangements aside, do you remember how he used to be? Girl on either arm? You really don’t see that guy too much anymore. Why do you think that is?” Kate bites her lower lip. She wants to believe her best friend, but she just…her doubts are immutable. “He’s waiting for you. He’s doing all of this for you.” 

“But what does he expect, Lanie? Maybe I love him and maybe he loves me, but I’m not ready for that kind of relationship right now!” 

“Why aren’t you ready, Kate?” 

She pauses to think about it. “Because of all this. Because right now I just need to focus on getting my life back, getting back to the precinct. Because…” 

“Because?” 

“Because I’m not sure I’m capable of that kind of love after my mom’s death.” There, she’s said it. Silence on the other end. “Lanie?” 

“Of course you’re capable of it.” For the first time there’s an uncertain note to Lanie’s voice. Not something Kate wants to hear after sharing one of her deepest fears with her best friend. 

“I gotta go,” Kate says. Her skin prickles; she feels naked and vulnerable after divulging something so dark. 

“Kate, just wait a second. You two would be good together; we can all see it. And it’s okay if you aren’t ready right this second. But when you do get your life back, when everything fits into place again…you’re gonna have to take that leap. You can’t expect him to wait around forever.” 

“I know. Goodbye, Lanie.” 

“Bye.” 

She sets her cell phone back on the arm of the sofa, mind filled with disquiet. Despite Lanie’s convictions, she can’t accept that Castle really, truly loves her. Because she can’t even love herself right now, like this. 

Castle jumps as his phone rings. “Castle.” 

“Kiddo, what is up? I just got your message. Is something wrong with Katherine?” 

“Mother, why didn’t you stop Meredith from taking Alexis to Europe?” 

“Meredith took—? To Europe? I have always said to that girl, she needs to learn to stand up to her mother. For how long this time?” 

“Two weeks, but that’s not the point. Alexis chose to go. Without asking me. Or you, apparently.” 

“Chose? Why would she choose to go without consulting you first? That doesn’t sound like Alexis at all.” 

“She’s mad at me for deciding to go with Kate up to her dad’s cabin in the woods without telling her.” His mother tries to break in. “No, Mother, I don’t need a lecture; I know I made a mistake. But how do I fix it? Their flight left already for Lisbon and I can’t exactly go chasing after them.” 

“Let the girl cool down for a day; let her get some perspective. Then call Alexis tomorrow or the day after and tell her everything. Spare no details. Treat her like an adult, the way she wants to be treated, and show her that you respect her and are sorry.” When said like that, Martha’s suggestion seems simple. 

“But it’s not my story to tell; it’s Kate’s. She’s a very private person. You know that. This whole being injured thing is hard for her, and she won’t want to advertise it.” 

“Richard, you need to make a decision. This is not going to just blow over. You cannot just sit it out. This is your relationship with your daughter we’re talking about.” 

“And my relationship with the woman I love.” 

“Then you need to talk with her. Explain the situation. I’d like as much as you a solution that leaves everyone happy in the end. But if the three of us can’t come up with one, then you need to decide where your priorities lie.” 

When Castle emerges from his room, he looks just as perturbed as she feels. Kate can tell by the grim line of his mouth, and, though he says nothing, by the tap … tap … tap of the keys on his computer, followed by long lines of deleeete. 

They exchange only terse words for the rest of the day and while he preps dinner. It’s obvious they’re not mad at each other, but neither is taking solace in the other’s presence either. After a few attempts to make conversation over salad and lasagna, both of them give up and sit in the silence of their own thoughts. 

“Night, Castle,” Kate says about an hour after dinner. He’s reading the newspaper on his laptop. 

“Night,” he says, giving her a sad smile. She glances down at the page number before closing her book. Placing one hand on the arm of the couch, she pushes herself into a standing position, making her way to her bedroom with the pace of the sloth. As she enters, she decides she really doesn’t like that comparison. 

Kate flicks on the light and shuts the door softly behind her. After washing her face, brushing her teeth, and changing her bandages in the bathroom, she lays down on the bed, snuggling under the covers. As much as she can snuggle when every movement of her midsection causes pain to erupt in her chest. 

Lying there on her back, she slows her breathing to try to quiet her mind enough to fall asleep. She’s been wondering if emptying her mind before falling asleep will prevent the nightmares from returning, and now seems as good a night as any to try it. Making her mind go blank for more than a few seconds, however, proves to be nigh on impossible. 

She’s standing at the podium, the scene frozen around her. Her audience—including Lanie, Esposito, Ryan, and Castle—are still watching her intently, listening to the speech that is no longer flowing out of her mouth. Only he can move, the man striding towards her from behind the tombstones. She can’t even get a good look at his face, couldn’t describe him to a sketch artist if she wanted to. Not that she will get the chance. 

Relaxed as can be, he ambles up to her. Everything in her is yelling for her to run, to kick, to punch, anything, but she is still frozen as he levels his sniper rifle to her chest, pressing the muzzle to her. All she can do is open her mouth in a scream as the bullet explodes through her chest. 

The scream doesn’t stop when her eyes bolt open in bed, doesn’t stop until she realizes it’s her and she closes her mouth. Castle bursts in with a flash of light from the living room, silhouetting his form like an angel. Minus the wings. 

“Kate! Kate, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare.” He rushes to her side, all love and concern. Her heart pounds in her chest and her face is wet with tears she didn’t even know she’d cried. “Kate…” he says her name again as he sits down next to her and smoothes back her hair. With much effort she scoots over to make room for him on the bed, head falling against his chest as soon as he’s settled. His warmth is comforting as he holds her. 

All she knows is that he’s there when she falls asleep, and he’s still there through every shooting after that. 

Chapter Text

A warm mass lies beside her, stealing half the bed covers—perhaps more than half—and threatening to roll her straight off her side of the bed. Wait a second. Her side? Since when was she sleeping with—? 

Castle. Kate turns to look at him. He has stayed with her the whole night. She’s grateful for that, but it just makes her more confused about their relationship. Things are moving too quickly, giving her more things to second-guess without enough time to reach conclusions about the previous ones. 

She is just watching him breathe, eyes closed and peaceful. She imagines she kept him up half the night with her nightmares, and Kate has ever been an early riser. 

After a moment more, her bare feet touch down on the cold floor and she turns away. It’s a struggle to rise off the bed, and she was right yesterday—her muscles are definitely sore. Dr. Sven had warned her not to overdo it on the exercises. Dr. Burke had warned her that she was likely to want to. Perhaps both of them know her better than she knows herself. She wonders what the psychiatrist would say about her and Castle. 

In the shower, while washing gingerly around her incisions and scars, another idea strikes her. She can’t ask Dr. Burke—she doesn’t know how to get into contact with him nor does she like the idea of spilling her secrets to a man she doesn’t know—but she can ask someone else. Someone she trusts implicitly; someone who knows her better than anyone. 

From this person, she’s not likely to get an answer. In fact, she won’t get an answer at all. But in the simple act of telling someone, it’ll take the weight off her chest and give her some room to breathe. Breathing room sounds good right now. 

After dressing in the clothes she had taken into the bathroom with her—she’d never have heard the end of it if she walked into her room wearing just a towel—she exits her room for the kitchen table. Castle is still fast asleep on the bed and she’s inclined to leave him that way, both to avoid talking about last night and to avoid his questions about what she’s doing. Kate squats down by a small shelf and works a sheet of blank paper out of the stack. When she stands again her chest flares, so she pauses to down this morning’s pain meds before sitting down to write. She begins like she usually does, with the date. 

June 2, 2011 

In these, she gives nothing but the full and complete truth. Always. 

Dear Mom, 

PTSD and convalescence are hard, but I signed up for the possibility of those when I joined the NYPD ten years ago. Love, however, I’m finding is much more difficult to deal with, and that one I didn’t anticipate. Why didn’t you warn me it was this hard? 

He told me he loved me after I was shot. Castle, the man I’ve been telling you about. He’s the one that’s been shadowing me on my cases and driving me nuts. That’s a good thing, most of the time. I was falling for him too, no matter how hard I tried to stop myself. But when he said it out loud, it all became very real, very fast, and I wasn’t ready. I might have been before the bullet struck me but definitely not after. It was all too much to deal with even though I knew I loved him back. He said he loves me, but how do I know it’s real? I feel bad for doubting him after all he’s done for me, but there’s still a shadow of doubt that keeps me from just letting it happen, keeps me distant. 

Mom, I don’t know what to do. We’re living in the cabin together while I recover, but we’re just getting closer and closer and I don’t know what I’m doing. One minute I’m doubting the relationship, the next I’m curled up in his arms. The PTSD certainly isn’t helping with that at all. I say that I need time to get my life back, but I think that’s just an excuse I give to everyone, including myself. I’m really scared he only loves the precinct side of me, or that I’ll end up one of his ex-wives. I’m sure he thought he was in love with them too, when he married them. And even if what he feels is genuine, how can I know what I feel is? Will, and Tom, and now Josh...those relationships all fell apart. I value too much what we have now to let mine with Castle end up that way. As a teenager, I really wanted love more than anything else. I wanted to find my someone who would laugh and cry with me and love me unconditionally despite my faults. I know I went looking for that kind of love in all the wrong places, but I still want that. And I can see that man being Castle. 

But even if he is the one, I’m afraid I’m not ready. I’m not sure I can love like I’m asking him to love. To that depth, to that level of commitment. Ever since your death, I don’t feel capable of that strong of love anymore. 

I’m not sure I ever will be. Then is it fair to enter a relationship with Castle knowing that I’ll never be able to give him the kind of love he deserves? 

I wish you were here to advise me on this, Mom. So you could brush your hand across my cheek and give some magical advice that would make all my problems go away. And then, when they did, laugh and say, “I told you so.” 

I had so many plans on what I would do when I finally met “the one” and what it would be like. I imagined it would be like those fairytales, love at first sight and happily ever after. I wanted to bring him home for dinner so you and Dad could meet him for the first time. I wanted the chance for you to tell him embarrassing stories about my childhood that I could pretend to mad at you over but be secretly glad because you’re making him feel like part of the family. I wanted to plan our wedding with you and pick out a dress with you and see you crying as I approached the altar. I wanted to share so much of my life with you and explore it together. Even after twelve years, it hurts that we’ll never get the chance. 

I miss you. 

Love, 
Kate 

She slowly sets the pen down, reading over what she has written. Then she quickly wipes away a tear, anxious to make sure it does not fall on the paper. She carefully stashes the letter away in a corner, making a mental note to bring it home with her when they leave. 

A curious feeling is present inside of her. The aftermath of writing such a letter is one of the more puzzling experiences in her life. She feels close to her mother, which gives her comfort, but at the same time she’s sad that their communication is reduced to this and talking to a tombstone. She wouldn’t classify writing these letters as something she likes to do, but she doesn’t dislike it either. It helps to still feel some connection to her mother. 

“Hey,” Castle says from the doorway, causing her to jump. He must have woken up. 

“Hey,” she greets him with a sad smile. She wonders if her eyes are still wet, but wiping to check will just make it all the more noticeable. 

He tilts his head, looking at her more carefully. His hair is poofy and he has slight bags under his eyes, but he looks semi-alert. She must look worse than normal from the look he’s giving her. She hasn’t had the chance to apply any makeup yet or work a brush through her hair. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” she replies. “You? You look tired. Sorry about that.” 

“No, don’t be. I’m here for you. But it wasn’t just the nightmares, it was Alexis and something my mother said.” 

“Oh?” 

He appears hesitant to say. “She…she said I should wait a day to let Alexis cool down and then treat her like an adult.” 

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Why would that keep you up?” 

“Because she also said I needed to tell Alexis what was really going on. Everything. And if you didn’t agree, I needed to decide who my priority is.” Kate is struck dumb by that last statement. For a second she can’t believe Martha would say something so cruel; then the logical side of her kicks in and she can empathize with her. Martha only has Alexis’s best interests at heart—it’s not her job to take care of Kate as well. As for Kate, her duty is to Castle. And if this is what Castle needs from her… 

She never meant to get in the way of his relationship with Alexis, but somehow, she did. And now she feels responsible. Alexis should be—and hopefully is—his number one priority. Kate has the utmost respect for the father-daughter relationship, given that she nearly lost hers. After her mother’s death, Jim’s alcoholic years had been the darkest period of her life—the only time she ever felt completely alone. Though she felt her mother’s death deeply, it was her father’s descent that truly changed Kate. She had been forced to grow up prematurely, to be strong for him where another would have fallen apart, to put her life together with no outside help. Her mother’s murder had changed the course of her life forever, but her father’s absence had changed her forever. 

It goes against everything in her core, everything she has built up for twelve years, but she knows it’s what she must do. She can’t make him—and never meant to, doesn’t want him to—choose between her and his daughter. If she’s honest with herself, it’s partially for fear he’d choose Alexis, partially for fear he’d choose her. 

“Castle, it’s…it’s okay. Your relationship with Alexis is more important than keeping this a secret. If it’ll help…you can tell her everything that’s been going on.” The words feel like something vile she’s shoving out her mouth and a small, deep-seated feeling of panic is rising inside of her. Alexis will never view her the same way again, the way Kate wants people to perceive her. 

It doesn’t matter, she tells herself as Castle’s face clears. “Are you sure, Kate? I know this is a sensitive subject for you…” 

She nods her assent. “When are you going to call her? I’d…I’d like to be around when you do.” 

He smiles. “Of course. I was thinking tonight at two, so it’ll be around eight in the morning in Paris. I know it’s kind of late, but…” 

Kate understands. He doesn’t want to wait any longer than he has to to talk with his daughter. “Wow, Castle, you know that off the top of your head?” She’s teasing him now, trying to leave the heavy topics behind. 

“Best-selling author. I get around.” 

“Do you know any French?” 

“I learned it in school, but I promptly forgot it once I entered college. Alexis tried to re-teach it to me as she learned it, but the only thing I remember are the swear words.” 

“I find it hard to believe Alexis taught you French swear words.”

“No, I remember those from high school,” he grins. “Breakfast?” 

“Actually, no, you don’t have to cook today, Castle. I’m in a cereal mood.” 

“Cereal’s so boring. But fine.” He plops the box in front of her and starts a search for spoons. She half-rises from her chair. “Don’t you even get up,” he says, pointing behind him without even looking. She sinks back down. 

“I’m just injured, not paralyzed,” she complains, giving him a look. 

“And I can see in your eyes exactly how much pain you’re in when you try to stand or walk.” He delivers a bowl and a spoon to her place, followed by the carton of milk. 

She can’t argue with that one, just purse her lips and let the subject drop. He’s right, but how’s she going to get better if she doesn’t push herself? Working through the pain has always been her tried-and-true method…but then again, she’s never been recovering from a bullet wound before. 

She dumps some cereal into her bowl and patiently waits for him to pour the milk. Dr. Sven had been very clear that Kate was not to lift anything heavier than a tablet computer for the next couple weeks, and Castle is more than happy to do the honors. “I’m going to take a walk outside today,” she informs him, digging in with her spoon. He creates his own bowl and sits down across from her. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Kate? I mean, you have trouble just going from room to room.” 

She affixes him with a defiant stare. “I won’t go far. Just around the cabin a few times. I want some sunlight and fresh air.” 

“Okay,” Castle agrees reluctantly. “Stay close. Yell if you need me.” 

She doesn’t merit that an answer. She’s not some child he has to admonish and protect. Has he forgotten that already? 

She finishes breakfast in silence, checking her phone for messages and her email for anything important. Nothing, just a voicemail reminding her of the appointment tomorrow with her doctors. A check-up with Dr. Marks and a session with Dr. Sven. At least they’re not requiring another visit to Dr. Burke. 

Kate wonders briefly if they should make a day out of her visit to the city. Visit Lanie, or Espo and Ryan. Then she remembers how frightening the city is and decides the precinct isn’t a good option right now. She’ll wait and see how she feels after physical therapy and then decide to drop in on Lanie or not. 

She places her dishes in the sink and makes her way to the door. She opens it and stands in the threshold for a moment, sunlight warming her body and a cool breeze refreshing her. Keeping her fingers splayed and gently brushing the wall, she exits out, feeling the surge of energy in her leg muscles. Her breath lets out in a huff as she takes her first step forward. It feels odd to her to be wearing shoes—real shoes where her heel is no more than two centimeters away from the ground. A twig snaps under her feet and she leaps for the wall, searching frantically for the tell-tale glint of a rifle hidden among the trees. There is none and she manages to calm herself down relatively quickly, taking charge of her own breathing and concentrating on it. 

Once she feels safe enough to continue onward, all that’s left to do is wonder what happened to the little girl who refused a night light at age five. 

To the sixth grader bold enough to play basketball with the big kids. 

To the junior who, despite everyone’s reservations, took on a schedule containing five AP classes and managed to balance all of her coursework with volunteering and a dynamic social life. 

To the college student who left all by herself for a semester in another country whose language she only half- knew. 

To the desperate daughter who stood up to her father and finally forced him to get sober after five years of drinking after her mother’s death. 

To the young woman who entered the male-dominated Academy and received her badge, determined to find justice for those who could not get it for themselves. 

To the thirty-one-year-old detective who didn’t mind being first to burst through the door without knowing what was waiting on the other side. 

Kate sighs, leaning her back against the building and running her hand through her hair. How did she fall so far, to be reduced to…to this? She tries to tell herself that it’s only temporary, that she’ll recover her personality as her body heals, but it’s hard to believe when she hasn’t seen that much improvement. All her life she’s been courageous and strong and brave—she’s always taken life head on and come out better because of it. So why, in the face of flash backs and nightmares, does her bravery desert her? They aren’t even real, just warped memories that she’s forced to relive over and over again. Her mind is waging war against itself, constructing and bringing forth the images that terrorize her. 

It’ll do no good to think like this, and she knows that. All she can do is take it one day at a time, maybe try some of the techniques Dr. Burke recommended. She has to be content with only managing two laps around the cabin—it’s better than she ever does inside. She has to be content with occasionally needing a bit of help. So she opens the door and slips back in, taking off her shoes and sinking down on the couch. 

“So, how was it?” Castle asks over the lid of his laptop. 

“Good,” she lies. Being alone with her thoughts wasn’t nearly as relaxing as it used to be. She reaches down amid a flare of pain and extracts a small shoebox from between the couch and the wall. 

“What’s that?” Castle asks curiously. She turns it so all her can see is the muddy brown lid as she opens it. His writing is all but forgotten. Castle is almost as famous for his having a nine-year-old’s attention span as he is for his novels. 

“Just a box of stuff,” she answers, staying nonchalant. Kate adopts a look of great concentration as she stares at the motley collection of items inside. 

“Come on, please?” Castle says. He’s giving her his patented puppy-dog eyes, the ones she’ll never admit melt her heart. 

“All right, come here,” she says, making place for him on the couch next to her. He grins and sets his laptop down, taking the seat on her right. If he had a tail, it would be wagging a mile a minute. “This,” she gestures to the box, “holds twenty years of my family’s history in this cabin.” She picks out an object and smiles. After a moment she hands it to him. “This is Meep.” 

“Meep the Sheep?” Castle asks, giving the fluffy animal a little squeeze. 

“Yeah. My first time in this cabin, when I was one, this was the little stuffed animal I always fell asleep with. Somehow it got left behind, and when we went home my parents could not get me to sleep. After five hours of my crying, my dad finally drove back up here and fetched him for me.” She laughs softly. 

“What?”

“He says he did it because he loved me so much, but I think it was mostly just to shut me up.”

Castle laughs too. “Yeah, well, babies can be a handful, trust me.” He hands Meep back to her and she sets him inside, digging for the next item. Kate hands him a folded sheet of yellowed paper, watching as he opens it. “A drawing?” 

“No, just the acorn,” she nods to it. It’s her mother’s drawing, definitely, as Kate had only been two for this one. “It’s a drawing of the acorn I found just outside when I was little.” 

Castle appears puzzled. “Why is that significant?” 

“Because the biggest, fluffiest-tailed, meanest-looking squirrel I have ever seen chased me around for half an hour to get ahold of it.” She’s trying to keep a straight face for this one but just can’t as Castle bursts out laughing. 

“Kate Beckett, traumatized by a squirrel attack,” he chortles. “I have got to tell that one to Ryan and Esposito.” 

“Shut up,” she says, rolling her eyes. 

They spend the next six hours going over everything in that box, neither taking any notice of the passage of time. Sometimes Castle interjects a story of his own, but it’s mostly Kate who’s doing the telling. She’s vaguely aware of how easy this is, to share these pieces of her past with him. How natural it seems. Her favorite is a drawing from her six-year-old self depicting her and her dad flying homemade kites in the clearing by the river. Her mom even took a picture of them to accompany the stick-figures. The kites have been gone a long time after a couple mishaps with particularly gnarly trees, so the drawing and the picture are the only remnants of those specific happy, carefree times. Castle’s favorite is a story she wrote when she was ten, her first story not required for school. She never was one for writing stories much past fifth grade, but Castle seems to really like it. He even says it’s better than he could have written at that age, but she doubts it. Best-selling adult authors, at least in her mind, are usually writing prodigies as children as well. 

After they break for a lunch-dinner crossover, she puts the box away on the insistence that he must get some writing done today. Castle protests on the grounds that he’s almost finished chapter sixteen, but acquiesces anyway. He knows even better than she does what Gina’ll do to him if he’s late, she’s just the more responsible one. All too soon, however, the time she’s been secretly dreading rolls around, the time she’s tried to distract herself from with wistful, introspective thoughts on her walk and a nice trip down memory lane with Castle. 

Two o’clock, and she’s not even tired. Nervous tension has made it impossible to relax since dinner. She couldn’t fall asleep right now if she tried. As the minute passes she’s hopeful Castle will just forget altogether, but she knows she’s being irrational. He needs to talk to his daughter, and her feelings come secondary. Her fears are baseless anyway…aren’t they? The clock turns to 2:04 as her indecision remains rooted inside. 

“Castle, aren’t you going to call Alexis?” she forces out. 

He smiles. “Yeah, of course. I was just waiting to see how long it would take you to remind me. I could see the battle raging behind your eyes.” 

“Castle—“ She doesn’t even know what to say, but she hates that he can read her and play her so easily. He pulls out his phone and sighs. He makes eye contact with her and her annoyance is pushed to the back of her mind as he seems to draw strength from their visual connection. He presses a button and puts it on speakerphone in time to hear the second ring. Kate shifts uncomfortably in her place, breathing shallow and palms damp. 

“Alexis’s phone, Meredith speaking!” a voice on the other end chirps. 

“Meredith?” Castle asks, exchanging an eek-what-do-I-do-I-didn’t-expect-this look with Kate. 

“What’s the news, kitten?” 

Chapter Text

“Meredith, what are you doing with Alexis’s phone? Where’s Alexis?”

“Our darling’s just in the other room,” Meredith answers perkily. “But when I saw it was you, I couldn’t resist! We haven’t talked in ages.”

Should I go? Kate mouths. She doesn’t want to get caught up in whatever problems Castle has with his ex-wife; that’s personal. Castle just shakes his head, looking annoyed. 

“Meredith, give my daughter the phone. I want to talk to her.” 

“I don’t know, Rick, maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you.” Meredith’s toying with him. 

“I don’t have time to argue with you; do you know what time it is here? Just hand her the phone! If she doesn’t want to talk then she can tell me so herself!” 

“Kitten,” Meredith pouts. “Hope you’re enjoying being the negligent parent this time around...” 

“Meredith—!” 

“Alexis!” his ex calls. “Someone special wants to talk to you!” 

“Ashley?” comes Alexis’s muffled and excited voice. There’s rustling on the other end as the phone switches hands. “Hello?” 

“Hey, pumpkin, it’s me,” Castle says.

 “Oh. Hi, Dad.” 

“I’m sorry, Alexis.” She’s silent on the other end. “I’m sorry I didn’t consult you and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. You were right: I shouldn’t have waited to tell you about us moving. But you don’t know the full story.” Castle exchanges a look with Kate, who finds herself nodding back at him. “When we got home from the hospital—“ 

“No, Dad, stop,” Alexis says. Castle’s eyes widen and he closes his mouth. Alexis did say last time that he could try to explain all he wanted, it wouldn’t make a difference. Bile rises in Kate’s throat as she waits for another father-daughter relationship implosion. She hates that it will be her fault. “Dad…how could you think you could just call me like this? Did I not make myself clear last time? You don’t want me in your life, so what gives you the right to barge in on mine? You don’t get to explain, because you’re not explaining! All you’re doing is making excuses, but you can’t do that to me this time, Dad. I know the truth. I know that you’d rather be there with her than here with me.” 

“Alexis—“ 

“No, Dad, don’t call me again! We’re having a great time here without you!” 

“Please—“ 

“If you want to spend your life with Beckett, then that’s none of my business, but don’t expect me to—oh, she’s gone, finally.” 

“Alexis, please understand that I—“ 

Alexis laughs on the other end of the phone, a sound so unexpected that Kate jumps at the noise. “No, Dad, You don’t have to explain anything. I understand. I’m not mad at you.” 

“Are you sure?” Castle says, bewildered. “Because that sounded kind of mad to me.” Kate’s spirits lift a fraction of an inch. 

“No, I’m not mad. I understand. Sorry, that was just before Mom went away.” Kate looks at Castle for an explanation, but he has none. Alexis isn’t making any sense. “There’s a lot more going on than I know about —or than I should know about. I know that you would never leave me alone unless Beckett really needed you. I don’t know what she’s going through or what’s going on, but it must be hard. Really hard. And you should be with her. I was wrong last time, accusing you of choosing her over me. That was out of line, and I’m sorry. I was asking to be treated like an adult while acting like a child.” 

“But I should still give you—“ 

“An explanation? Dad, you don’t need to. That’s private, and I respect that. I have no right to ask for that information. I know how you feel about her, Dad—“ Castle’s head whips up as if in a panic. A slight bit of awkwardness pervades the space between them. If this were happening to anyone else, Kate would have burst out laughing. Alexis doesn’t know that Kate’s listening in on the conversation, and Castle appears mortified. “—and I have to realize I won’t necessarily have you all to myself anymore. She’s the woman you love, and I get that there are going to be times when she needs you too.” 

Apology and fear are written all over Castle’s face, but he turns back to the phone and says, “Thank you, Alexis.” Kate’s own feelings are a tumult, but it’s not like she didn’t know this before Alexis said it. She remembers his words from the shooting. It’s just… Lanie, Espo, Alexis—does anyone not know about the feelings Castle has for her, the ones she’s been oblivious to and then denying for three years? Castle’s still speaking. “Are you still planning to spend the next two weeks in Europe? It’s okay if you want to.” 

“Yeah, I’m actually having fun here,” Alexis says quietly. “Mom’s paying me extra attention and taking me out to see all the sights and stuff. I think she likes it when I’m mad at you, which is why I had that whole charade before she left the room.” 

Castle rolls his eyes at Meredith’s pettiness. “Okay, sweetie, I’m sure you have a big day to get to, so I won’t keep you. Yell at me before you hang up so Meredith keeps treating you well, okay?” 

Alexis laughs. “Bye, Dad. Love you!”

“I love you too, pumpkin.” The call ends, leaving Castle and Kate sitting there in silence. 

“Well, that was...unexpected,” Castle says. “But a big relief. We should get to bed.” Kate nods, all at once feeling incredibly sleepy. 

“Back to the city tomorrow, don’t forget,” she murmurs. 

“Oops, I almost did,” Castle says worriedly. “What’s time’s the appointment?” 

“Morning. Nine, I think.” Kate checks her phone. “Nine thirty.” 

“So, two and a half hours to get there, add in another for traffic, liberally...” Castle calculates aloud. “We should leave around six. That’s just three and a half hours of sleep...” 

“It’s okay, Castle; we can handle it,” she says. “Night.” 

“Night,” he replies. She moves towards her bedroom and he hesitates, wondering if he should follow and help her get to sleep. He decides against it, thinking she wouldn’t welcome the intrusion. It would be presumptuous of him if she didn’t ask first—or wasn’t already in tears. Besides, he’d better get to sleep himself in order to drive safely tomorrow. 

He changes hurriedly into his pajamas and climbs into bed. He listens intently for a moment, then decides all is quiet. Comforted by the fact he and his daughter are on good terms once again, he quickly falls asleep. 

Vzzzzt! Vzzzzt! That’s obnoxious, he thinks, but then reflects as he shuts it off that most people view their alarms as obnoxious in principle. It’s five thirty in the morning, enough time for him to shower, get dressed, and make breakfast for the road. The hot water wakes him up fully and he hopes the sound won’t disturb Kate. He’s trying to make it so she can sleep until the last possible moment. 

It’s not that she normally needs the sleep. He’s seen her pull consecutive all-nighters before, and with her job sleep is erratic and often interrupted. But he can tell healing is sapping a lot of her strength, and he wants to make the process as easy as possible for her. After his shower he enters her room softly, flicking on the light. She’s still asleep—her eyes are closed—but she’s not sleeping peacefully. She tosses her head ever so slightly left and right, wearing a pained expression. A moment of indecision culminates in Castle placing one hand over hers and touching her shoulder gently to wake her with the other. His actions are rewarded as her wrists strain against him before she realizes where she is. He’s narrowly avoided a punch in the face, or worse. 

“Time to get up,” he whispers. Then he wonders why he’s whispering. 

“’kay,” she mumbles. “Be out soon.” Castle takes that as a dismissal and heads into the kitchen. As much as he hates instant coffee, he brews some—decaf, unfortunately—while concocting a pot of oatmeal. He adds a dash of vanilla and a pinch of cinnamon as she comes in, fresh from her shower. 5:59. 

He’s interested to notice she’s wearing full-on makeup again, something she’s neglected to do while it’s just the two of them. Somehow that thought makes him smile slightly and feel special. 

He dumps the oatmeal into two plastic bowls and the coffee into travel mugs. The air outside is chilly, borderline freezing, but luckily the blanket from last time is still in the front seat. Castle places the coffee in the holders and the oatmeal on the dash and then climbs in his side. After checking that Kate is situated, he turns the key and moves his bowl of oatmeal to his lap. It’s hotter than he thought, uncomfortably so, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Kate stabilizes hers on top of her leg, resting it against her stomach. The blanket insulates her from the intense heat, but he has no such luck. 

Before they’ve even gotten out of the woods Kate’s polished off her breakfast except for the last dregs of coffee and is asleep again. Once the road is flat and straight Castle risks driving one-handedly in order to eat his oatmeal. He turns the radio on softly and then a little louder when it doesn’t seem to bother her. It helps keep him awake and focused on the road ahead of him. When he pulls into the hospital parking garage, they’ve only ten minutes to spare. 

“Kate,” he touches her shoulder. “We’re here.” She stirs and he gets out of the driver’s side, going around to the trunk to get the wheelchair. He unfolds it and opens the passenger door. She sighs and slumps back down in her seat at the sight of it. “Come on, it’s only for a couple of hours. If you try to make it from the parking garage to the hospital, you won’t have any energy for physical therapy.” He seriously doubts she’d even make it to the hospital doors, but he refrains from voicing that. She acquiesces reluctantly, scowling as she sits in the rolling chair. Castle closes the car doors and locks them with a touch of the remote. The car beeps its acknowledgement of the command. 

Castle wheels her towards the elevator, remarking silently to himself how easy it is to push her around. He doesn’t think he’s gotten any stronger since before the funeral, which means she must be incredibly light. She’s wearing street clothes today, and he can’t help but notice the slight looseness with which they hang on her. He should get her to eat more. 

Neither of them says anything until he checks her into the hospital. They’re forced to wait in the waiting room for a few minutes and she has a clipboard questionnaire to fill out. He surreptitiously watches her out of the corner of his eye, curious as to the questions asked and the answers given. She’s been honest and marked that her pain medication has been taken more sporadically than prescribed, but she’s also marked her pain level as a four. 

“You know, they like it better when you’re completely truthful on these things,” Castle says. Perhaps that came out a little more snarky than he meant it. 

She glares at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Pain level at a four?”

“Well, compared to dying from a bullet wound, this is a four.” 

“Okay,” Castle backs off. Her glare clearly says he’s got no say in this matter. She shifts her arm to hide her answers, but it does little good. Two minutes later, when she thinks he isn’t watching, she changes to pain indicator to a six. Kate leaves the box for ‘nightmares,’ however, unchecked. Well, he supposes he has less of a problem with that. Medically it shouldn’t really matter at this stage. 

“Katherine Beckett,” says the small Asian nurse from before.

“Here,” Castle says, standing up and placing his hands on the wheelchair. 

“Two doors down to the left,” the nurse instructs him, pointing. “I’ll be right with you, and Dr. Marks will be there in a few minutes after he finishes up with his other patient.” 

“Thanks,” he replies automatically, pushing her down the hall. The room is empty save for a sink, large cupboard, and cushioned table that could serve as both a chair and a bed. Castle positions Kate so she faces the door. “Do you want me to stay?” 

“Castle, I’m going to be taking my shirt off,” she rolls her eyes. “So, no.” 

“Oh, right,” he replies. “May I stay?”

“Castle!” She’s smiling just a little bit as he exits out the door. 

Chapter Text

He’s seated in the waiting room, wishing he’d brought his laptop or at least his book. He’s half-considering typing out Chapter Seventeen on his phone when it buzzes in his hand. Meredith. He pauses, wondering whether or not he wants to take her call. Under normal circumstances, he would, but it’s likely going to be a continuation of yesterday’s ugliness. Then again, Alexis is in her custody right now so he’d better answer in case something’s wrong. 

Castle exits the waiting room and stands in front of the hospital building in the muggy air. The thick clouds overhead are trapping in the heat, leading to a stifling—yet not sunny—day. He’s not the only one out there making or taking a phone call. The woman to his left is commiserating with someone, face soaked with tears, and the man to his right is yelling. Castle and Meredith’s conversation will fit right in here. 

He catches it on the last ring. “Hello?” 

“Rick, you’ve got some nerve.” Here we go, he thinks. “How dare you throw away Alexis like that! You’re her father; that’s not a job you can just blow off when you want to! Not that you would know what a job is, seeing that you’ve never worked a day in your life. You’re the one who’s always telling me that I need to be a better parent, be around more, keep my promises, and spend more time with my daughter. What do you say now, you filthy hypocrite? She cried herself to sleep the night before—“ Either Alexis is a better actress than he gives her credit for or Meredith’s exaggerating again. “—and today I had to take her to a fancy restaurant, a high-end boutique, and the Ange Boulangerie to finally see a smile on her face again!” 

Castle smiles—Alexis really is milking this for all it’s worth. Perhaps she learned a few tricks from Martha to pull this one off. “And in the boutique she wouldn’t even let me buy her anything, like she didn’t think she deserved it! Alexis’s self-esteem is down the drain, and you’re the one who put it there!” Ah, now that sounds more like his daughter, keeping Meredith’s attention but not manipulating her into buying her expensive things. That would just make Alexis feel incredibly guilty. He’s not sure where Alexis got her outspoken conscience. 

Well, he’s not going to be the one who ruins Alexis’s little charade. So he listens to Meredith’s tirade with a slight, amused smile on his face, jutting in at just the right times to get a few contradictory words in before letting her continue. At last he feels it’s winding down. “I just can’t believe you, Rick. Alexis will be returning from her call with Ashley soon, but this isn’t over. Remember—when Alexis goes to Stanford for college, she’s going to be on my side of the country. And I am perfectly ready to be the better parent!” 

“Wow,” Castle says after ending the call. He had had no idea that Meredith could be so protective as a parent. Or perhaps she just likes being the righteous one for once. It amuses him that she’s throwing his own words back at him, twelve years later. He slips his phone back into his pocket and goes back to the waiting room. He sends a quick text off to Alexis, warning her of Meredith’s plotting for her university days. He hopes Meredith remembers that hanging around with their mother isn’t exactly the college-life dream of most students. 

When Kate comes out, she’s in her wheelchair again, and looking thoroughly annoyed to be there. Castle retrieves her from the nurse and asks, “So, how was it?” 

“Everything looks good,” she yawns. “Learned some new, harder stuff in physical therapy to try.” 

“Where to?” Castle asks. “The cabin?” 

She runs a hand through her hair, blinking several times to look more awake. “Could we pick something up from my apartment? We can eat there and then maybe we can go see Lanie.” 

“Sure,” Castle replies, surprised but happy. He’s happy she’s not cutting herself off from the world during her recovery like he thought she might. Granted, she’s not as social as normal—not seeing the boys or anything— but at least she’s staying in touch with her best friend. 

And him. He feels so lucky she’s sharing this with him. 

Castle watches her out of the corner of his eye as he drives to her apartment. She is staring out the window the whole time, whether lost in thought or appreciating the city sights he doesn’t know. He wonders if she misses it while at the cabin, or if it’s a welcome reprieve. She insists on leaving the wheelchair in the back seat just as he insists she take the elevator, not the stairs. She’d just be stupid to try considering how ashen her face is by the time she reaches her door. Kate Beckett is many things, but she’s not stupid. 

“Castle, come in here; I need your help to lift it,” she calls from inside her bedroom. He finds her standing in front of her closet pointing at an oddly-shaped black object near the back. It isn’t until he pulls it out that he discovers it’s a guitar case, heavier than he expects it to be. And awkwardly weighted, he thinks, as he accidentally bangs it on the edge of the bed. “Careful,” she warns as he maneuvers it out the door. 

“Why do you want to bring this back with us?” he asks.

“It’ll give me something to do besides read,” she replies. “And I can do it sitting down.” 

“What, just talking to me isn’t entertaining enough for you?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, Castle, I like variety. That’s why I like the weird cases.”

“Well, that and the fact you met me while working one of them,” Castle amends. 

“Wow. Egotistical much?” 

“And proud of it.” Castle lowers the guitar case carefully into the trunk and closes it. Kate jumps at the bang and then tries to hide it by leaning against the car with her elbow. “You okay?” he asks her. 

“Yeah, fine,” she lies. Her eyes are darting around too much for her to be fine. She notices the look he’s giving her. “Let’s just get to the morgue, okay?” She pulls the door open perhaps more roughly than normal and climbs inside. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, getting behind the wheel once again. They drive in silence for a minute before he says, “I’ve never seen you play before. Are you good?” 

“Not anything special, but I can play the chords and do the strumming patterns,” she replies. “I first started learning when I was eleven, and then off and on I would play after that. Usually after breakups or bad test scores or stuff like that.” 

Castle narrows his eyes. “There’s no way I’m going to get you to tell me about said breakups, is there?”

“No,” she says derisively.

“Thought not. Okay then, what songs can you play?”

“Pretty much anything with the chords written out after a few tries, but I’ve played a lot of Taylor Swift.”

“Taylor Swift? I never pegged you as a Taylor Swift fan.” 

“I’m not particularly. I have a much younger cousin Charlotte who was really into her, and we used to hang out a lot before she moved. When my dad and her parents would talk, we would play those songs in the living room. Until I got better, it created quite a ruckus. I got a lot better within these last few years.” She smiles at the memory. “Tell you what, Castle, when we get back to the cabin you can pick any Taylor Swift song and I’ll play it for you and you can sing it. Alexis likes her music, right? So you should know the lyrics.” 

“Just ‘cause my daughter likes it, why does that automatically mean I know the songs?” 

“I was a teenage girl once too. She probably plays them all over the apartment...and on repeat for days on end. We all did.” 

“Fair point. But I’m only singing if you do with me.”

“Castle...”

“Come on...please?”

She makes this cute harrumph noise in her throat. “Fine.” Castle grins as he parks outside the morgue.

“Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Kate replies with a nod. She and Castle exit the car and he stays close to her as they approach the building. He holds the door open for her as she steps inside and leads the way to Lanie’s usual station. The wall turns into glass as they come close and the door is open. 

“I told you, Javi, we need to act professionally in the workplace.”

“Come on, chica, it was one comment; nobody even heard,” Esposito replies. 

“It’s not just this one time! This isn’t going to work if you keep—“ Kate knocks on the door, interrupting Lanie and Esposito’s hushed conversation. They practically leap apart. “Kate!” Lanie exclaims, pulling off her blue gloves and hurrying over to meet her. “What are you doing here, girl? How are you?” Esposito looks equally happy to see her, if a bit rattled. 

“I’m doing better, Lanie, thanks,” Kate says, smiling. “Hey, Espo.”

“Hey Beckett,” he replies. “Come to see dead bodies instead of solve murders? Interesting career change.” 

Kate rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. No, if you need me to come help you with your cases because you and Ryan are incapable of functioning without me, feel free to call.” 

Castle connects Lanie and Esposito with his fingers, noting how the two of them are standing an awkward distance apart. “So, what’s up with you guys?” 

“Castle!” Kate hisses. She tries to step on his foot but misses. He steadies her hastily, trying to act like nothing has just transpired. 

“We’re fine,” Lanie says shortly, moving to the other side of the examination table and disposing of her gloves in the wastebasket underneath. 

“Sure you don’t want to—“ Castle begins before Lanie cuts in. 

“Castle, you ask one more question and I’m gonna smack you.” 

“Take her seriously; she’ll do it,” Esposito adds. Lanie fixes him with a death stare and he closes his mouth. 

“Lanie, could I talk to you, privately?” Kate asks. 

“Sure,” Lanie looks away from Esposito and leads her into an adjoining room, shutting the door behind them. 

For a moment there’s silence between him and Esposito. “Girl talk. Wonder what they’re discussing,” Castle says. 

“When the women convene in private, it’s never good, bro,” Esposito shakes his head. “For one of us at least. This time I’m gonna go with me…unless you’ve done something horrendous to Beckett in the last twenty-four hours?” Castle opens his mouth to respond. “By the way, if you say yes, I will knock your teeth in.” 

“...No,” Castle says slowly. “For the two of us, it’s been pretty smooth sailing.” “Lucky you. You make it official yet?”

“Well, no…”

“You talk about it yet?” 

“Well, not in so many words...”

“You tell her about the man on the phone?”

“Well—“

“Okay, man, I don’t envy you anymore. All hell’s gonna break lose when Beckett finds out about that secret.” 

“Which is why I haven’t told her.” 

“Bro, I get why,” Esposito says. “And to some extent I agree with you. But I’ve been thinking since we last talked, and…she’s going to find out sooner or later. Maybe you just want to get it over with now, so that she’s incapacitated enough to be prevented from diving in and it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass later when that holding pattern of yours breaks.” 

“Holding pattern?” 

“Lanie’s words, not mine. Listen, lying or keeping things from Beckett is not the way you want to start the relationship. The hardest thing to get from her is trust, and right now you have it. Don’t screw it up.” 

Lanie closes the door behind them, but Kate barely notices because she’s transfixed by the body lying on the table. It’s a woman with two GSWs just below her shoulder and the sight makes Kate’s blood solidify into ice. She could be lying there on that table. That could have been her. 

The spell is broken as Lanie whips the light blue cover sheet over the victim’s shoulders and face. Kate sinks down on the stool and Lanie pulls up a chair across from her. “What did you want to talk about, Kate?” 

“Is everything okay between you and...” she gestures feebly towards the door. 

“Not really.” 

“But Castle told me you two were getting along great at the hospital. What happened?” she pauses. “I mean, if you want to share, I’m here.” 

“The hospital was a special circumstance, Kate. We both needed someone to comfort us, so of course we were fine then. But lately…” Lanie trails off, so Kate has to prompt her. 

“Something about acting professionally at work?” 

“Yes, but it’s not really about that. It’s about more than that. I know you and Ryan and Castle all know about us, but we’re still keeping it a secret from the others. Javi’s ready to put it out in the open, but I’m not yet. It feels like he’s trying to rush this while I’m still figuring it out.” 

“Have you told him that?” 

“I’ve tried, but neither of us can say what we really feel. So we’re just going in circles, fighting the same fights over and over again.” 

“I’m sorry, Lanie.” Kate gives her friend a sad smile. 

“Yeah, well, just ‘cause my love life is circling doesn’t mean yours is. What’s new with you and Castle?” 

“We just talked two days ago. So no, nothing new.” 

“You two are living together. A ton can happen in two days, girl!” 

“We are not—well, yeah, I guess we kinda are,” Kate says defeatedly. “But not like that, okay? Separate beds, Lanie. Separate rooms.” 

"Okay, fine, got it. But seriously, when you’re ready, I think you and Castle would be great together.” 

Kate looks uncertainly at her best friend. “I’m not sure. I mean, after seeing what’s happened with you and Espo…” 

“Yeah, well, at least we gave it a shot. If it doesn’t work, then that’s that, but if it does…imagine how great we could be. You can’t throw away that kind of possible future with Castle because you’re scared it won’t work out. It’s only through trial and error that you’ll find the right one for you.” 

“Okay, okay.” 

“We should head back out. I trust Javi, but Castle could get himself into a lot of trouble out there without supervision.” Kate laughs. After rejoining Castle, they bid their goodbyes and Espo promises to pass along her greetings to Ryan. 

“So, what was up with Esplanie?” Castle asks as soon as the car doors close. 

“Esplanie?” She’s lost in thought. 

“Come on, we’ve gone over this: an amalgamation of their names, and because they’re always esplaining things...” 

“Oh, yeah… It’s none of your business, Castle.” Fortunately, Castle seems to respect her silence on the matter much more than he had Lanie’s at the morgue and quits asking questions. They talk of trivial things the whole way back, and Kate’s eyes are half-closed as she steps across the cabin threshold. It’s only seven o’clock, but it’s been a long day and she’s exhausted. Castle recognizes this and follows her to her room to say goodnight. 

“I was supposed to play you a song,” Kate murmurs, remembering. She doubts her fingers are coordinated enough right now to use a fork. “Raincheck?” 

“Raincheck,” Castle agrees. 

Chapter Text

Her fingers scrape lightly against the rough, textured wall of the cabin as she bites her lower lip. Cautiously she steps away from the building, nearly landing face-first in the pine needles as her foot catches on a small rock. She pauses, steadying herself for a moment. Then she continues on, each haggard step a step away from the cabin. The air is crisp and she’s enjoying the way it sears her lungs, gone much too quickly as early mornings get lost in the heat of the oncoming summer. She’s following a faint path that’s barely visible but she remembers from her childhood. Fishing was her dad’s thing, swimming was her mom’s, but they all loved long walks in the serenity of the woods. Her physical limitations will prevent this one from being long, but there’s no reason she can’t enjoy it all the same. 

A bird is chattering overhead and a woodpecker is drilling somewhere nearby when she stops to rest on a fallen long, playing with a leathery strip of bark in her fingers. Looking back the way she’s come, she can’t make out the cabin behind the tree trunks and down the slight hill. Progress, she thinks satisfactorily. Much better than a week ago in the hospital. 

Although now she’s tired and her chest is throbbing slightly. But still. 

With a deep breath she pulls herself up from her seat and begins to shuffle back towards the cabin. She’s thinking about a long, hot shower when she gets back inside as she approaches it from behind. “KATE!” Castle’s bellow startles her, jolting her back into the cemetery as she drops and huddles in the crook of the wall. A bullet digs deeply into her chest and lodges itself there amid the screams of the audience and Castle’s shouts. Life blood bleeds out of her just as the tears do, except the tears are real and stain her face even after the flashback recedes. It threatens to overtake her again like a tidal wave every time Castle calls her name, and she knows the only way to stop it is to get him to stop calling. She wipes her face with her sleeve and stumbles around the edge of the cabin to come face to face with him. 

“Kate, where have you been? I woke up and you were gone!” Castle’s flipping out, eyes dark with worry and shoulders full of tension. 

“I went for a walk, sorry,” she says, looking him in the eyes. She hopes he can’t tell she’s been crying. He can’t. 

“Okay, but…next time, take your phone with you. Cell reception may be spotty but it’s better than nothing.” 

“Sorry, I will. I went a little further than last time, but now I just want to shower.” Her façade is breaking; she wonders whether she’ll have to shove her way past him into the cabin before it shatters. She wonders if she’s strong enough to do so. 

Kate never has to find out, however, because after a moment more Castle turns and heads back inside. “I’ve got only six days to get the manuscript finished, so I’ll see you after.” 

“Yeah,” Kate mutters, not really listening. She enters her room and shuts the door, heading immediately for the bathroom. Once inside, she leans heavily against the counter, hair falling in wisps out of her ponytail and into her face. A few seconds later she raises her head to look in the mirror. 

A woman stares back at her evenly. She has light brown hair that sometimes borders on golden, slightly unkempt at the moment. Small ears, with the hair mostly tucked behind them. A mouth curved downwards slightly, a crease—permanent, perhaps?—in the forehead. Defined cheekbones and jaw line. A light sheen of sweat coating her neck and chest up to the lip of her shirt. The woman’s eyes are a deeper brown than her hair, but they contain a hardness within them, as well as fear and uncertainty. 

Beyond basic recognition, the only thing that convinces Kate she and the woman in the mirror are one in the same is that the woman moves as she does. They part their lips at the same time. When Kate undoes her hair, so does the woman in the mirror. When Kate sticks her tongue out, the woman does as well. 

Kate’s struck by the fact she doesn’t feel like the same person as a month ago. All she can hope is that when she gets back to her regular routine, the old Kate will come rushing back. 

She forces herself to look away from the mirror, undressing slowly. She steps into the shower, careful not to slip on her still-shaky legs and melts into the warm water cascading down her back. How she wishes none of this had ever happened. 

After toweling off, she dresses in comfy sweatpants and a T-shirt and peeks into the living room to see Castle hard at work writing his novel. She wonders where all the words come from—it seems impossible that one man could hold as many at once as what his fingers are pounding out onto the screen. Do I have that much to say in me? Kate thinks, but dismisses the thought. She has words, but not like he has words. His come from the imagination, while hers are conversations. Conversations she’s had, or hopes to have, or never will have. That’s the difference between them. Castle can write for the masses, but when Kate writes, she writes to someone. Generally just one person in particular. 

She dials up the precinct while her computer boots, sitting on the bed with the door closed so Castle won’t hear. It’s not that she’s trying to hide what she’s doing, but she doesn’t want him to try to stop her or tell her she doesn’t have to be doing this. Because she does have to. She does. 

Unfortunately, neither Ryan nor Esposito pick up at their desks. She could try their cells, but she doesn’t want to interrupt them if they’re out on a case—which they most likely are. If she’s honest with herself, she also doesn’t want to wait for them to get back. If she digs down to the root of it, she doesn’t want them asking the same questions Castle would. So she punches in another number. 

“Karpowski.”

“Hey, it’s Beckett.”

“Oh, Beckett, how are you?” The woman on the other end of the line sounds surprised to hear from her.

“I’m on the mend, thanks. Listen, I’m going crazy not being at the precinct and working cases.” 

“Yeah, well, the pile of cases keeps rising higher and higher when we’re down a detective. Plus some of them just have us running in circles. The one of I’ve got right now, the body was mutilated and whoever did it was smart enough not to chuck the wallet anywhere in the vicinity, so…no ID.” 

“That’s rough. About that...”

“Don’t tell me you want me to slip you an unsolved case file... Do you know what Iron Gates would do to me? No one would find all the pieces of my body.”

“Not a random file, no,” Kate says slowly. “I need mine. The one of my shooting.” 

There’s stunned silence on the other end before, “Beckett, you know that’s even worse, right? You know even if you were here you wouldn’t be allowed to work that case.” 

“I know, but…no one will find out. If I get anything useful, anonymous tip line, remember? You owe me one, Karpowski.” 

Kate can literally feel the indecision radiating off the detective. “All right, for you, Beckett. But not a word of this to anyone, and now we’re even. If this gets out, I could lose my badge, or worse. Probably worse.” 

“No one will find out,” Kate promises. 

“Okay,” says Karpowski. “It’s in your personal email box in three...two...there.” 

“Got it,” Kate answers, opening it up. “Good luck with your vic, Karpowski.” 

“Good luck with your sniper.” 

Kate frowns at the file in front of her, hating the digitized version. It’s just not the same as holding it in her hands, as if the important details that always allow her to solve it don’t pop out at her in this form. But it’s the best she’s got, so she makes do. To start, she types in the names of the groundskeepers in and around the cemetery. They all seem to have given a statement on where they were at the time of the shooting, but they all alibied out. But she’s not yet willing to rule out the possibility of one of them working with the man who shot her. 

She searches them up, one at a time. It’s not as good as a background check like she could do at the Twelfth, but most people post way too much about themselves online, and these seven are no exception. Nothing strikes her as odd or noteworthy, however, and so she moves on. Fingers flying over the keyboard, Kate types in their names in conjunction with Hal Lockwood, Gary McCallister, John Raglan, and Roy Montgomery. Nada. 

But she doesn’t give up. She will move on to other parts of the file—trace evidence, people with motive, the rifle left behind. And if nothing comes up, she’ll just try again. Because she has to get to the bottom of this. Because maybe then the nightmares and shaking and flashbacks and weakness will stop. Because maybe then she can go back to being a cop. 

Brrring! Brrring! The sound of his phone singing and buzzing breaks Castle from his writing zone, and he sets his laptop on the floor to answer it. Blocked number. “Castle.” 

“Mr. Castle, we need to talk.” He knows that voice; it’s the voice of the man keeping Beckett safe. The voice that has been creeping into his dreams these last few nights to join him where Montgomery is shot and killed. “Are you alone?” 

He looks around. “Uh, yeah, I think so. Kate’s in her bedroom. Is something wrong?” 

“Do you remember our deal?” 

“Keep Beckett away from her mom’s case, she stays safe. Yeah.” His heart pounds in his chest. Something about this man’s gravelly voice makes him want to hide in a corner. 

“You broke our deal.” 

“What? No, I didn’t. I didn’t!” It dawns on him. “Wait, you mean...she’s looked into her mom’s case?” His eyes stray towards her closed bedroom door. “Is that what she’s doing right now?” 

“Yes. You must stop her immediately, before they notice. If they have not already.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do that,” Castle says. He’s starting to panic, and when he panics he can get pedantic and side-tracked.

“You’ll hear from me soon,” the man replies.

“Wait! What should I call you? Not to her, I mean, just so you’re not ‘the man on the phone’ in my head anymore.” Side-tracked: like that. “You may call me Mr. Smith.” 

“Wow, original. Is that the best you could come up with? It’s as bad as Jones, or Lee, or Hunt.” And there’s the pedantic. 

The line clicks dead without a reply. Castle hopes he hasn’t just pissed him off. Then he remembers the whole point of the call and hastens to Kate’s bedroom. His hand is looped around the doorknob before he remembers to knock. There’s a scuffle from inside and then, “Come in!” 

He opens the door to find Kate seated cross-legged atop her bed, a closed laptop in front of her. “What are you up to?” 

“Nothing much. Just checking email, that kind of thing. Why?” 

“Oh, I, uh…was wondering what you wanted for lunch.” 

“Anything’s fine.” Her wide-eyed look tells him all he needs to know, but he can’t figure out how to get her away from the laptop without her getting suspicious. 

“Well, I could use some help on this scene I’ve written for Nikki. I was rereading it and I’m not sure the way she acts quite makes sense. Wanna run through it with me?” 

Kate is reluctant, but says, “Sure.” Castle leads her out into the kitchen and turns on the stove as she seats herself at the table. “What’s the scene about?” 

“So, Nikki is running through this park with these guys chasing her…” 

To his relief, Castle manages to keep her distracted throughout lunch and even gets an idea for a new scene in Chapter Nineteen. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the chase scene as he had written it; he’s only pretending to be dissatisfied with it to keep her away from her computer. He can’t keep this up forever, but he doesn’t feel he can tell her about “Mr. Smith” either. She needs him right now because of her injury—where would she go if she kicked him out of her life? That and, well, he doesn’t really want her mad at him in the first place. Even if she does understand the reasons for his silence, she’ll launch a full investigation into the mysterious “Mr. Smith,” and he can’t have that either. So when she says she’s going to take a walk after lunch, he opts to join her just to keep the conversation going. Afterwards he suggests she give her dad a call, and that ends up being more than a two hour enterprise, as Jim actually had the afternoon off work. At some point, Castle peeks his eyes up over the rim of his laptop and slowly sets it down. 

He creeps towards her bedroom, Kate’s voice emanating from the kitchen. Every time the floor creaks beneath his feet he cringes. She could kill him for this. 

Castle softly opens the door and steps inside, closing it after him. Her laptop is right where she left it, and he deftly opens it to see her searches and open email. “Karpowski,” he mutters, annoyed. But how did Smith know she had started looking into her mom’s case? Was it the email, Karpowski herself, or the Google searches that had alerted him? Was there a mole in the precinct who could have been privy to this exchange? 

If it was the searches themselves, there’s nothing he can do about that. Is it possible to tag keywords and be alerted when someone searches them? He doesn’t really know, but he supposes if “the Dragon” is as powerful as most claim, maybe he could do it. Another thought comes to Castle and he runs a virus scan on her machine. 

The green progress bar edges along, moving much too slowly for Castle’s taste. Finally, it’s done. “Found the little bugger,” Castle mutters, highlighting the Trojan and clicking ‘Clean Computer.’ He sets all the windows back to the way he remembers them being and hurries out of the room. Kate is still talking to her dad. 

Safe.

He only relaxes once he’s seated and writing again. 

“I’m headed to bed, Castle,” she says, stifling a yawn. It’s after dinner, an hour after, and the book she’s been reading is barely holding her attention anymore. 

“I’m gonna stay up a little while longer,” Castle murmurs. “Goodnight.” The glare from the screen is reflected in his eyes, still directed down toward it. Kate frowns slightly. His behavior has been odd all day, but she can’t discern the reason. Maybe something with Meredith or Alexis? No, based on past events he would have discussed that kind of thing with her. Something Espo said yesterday at the morgue? She hopes not. 

“Night.” She pulls herself up from the couch and shuffles towards her room. Her laptop is sitting on her bed —she had almost forgotten about that with Castle’s Nikki Heat questions and her father’s concern. She powers it down and moves it under the bed. As her most recent dose of pain medicine hasn’t kicked in yet, her chest is full of a slight burning sensation as she brushes her teeth and washes her face. Kate changes into her pajamas like someone with rheumatism, as bending down is borderline excruciating. She climbs into bed and flicks off the light, hoping in vain that the nightmares won’t visit her tonight. 

They do. 

Kate opens her eyes as someone smacks her across the face, nearly knocking her over. She’s on her knees, the alley stretching out off to her left and the cemetery to her right. She’s not alone; there are three men standing over her and pointing their guns at her face. All of a sudden, one of them—Dick Coonan—turns and pulls the trigger. Her mother slumps to the ground in the alleyway, blood spilling out of her and onto the pavement in a red river. “No!” Kate screams, but the three men only laugh. She realizes that her father, Ryan, Esposito, Lanie, and Castle are there as well, at the mercy of these killers, on their knees just as she is. They don’t seem to know what’s going on, just stare blankly ahead until a gun is leveled at them. That’s when the look of terror takes shape. 

Crack. Jim falls backward onto the concrete. Coonan grins evilly. “Please, stop,” Kate whimpers, but Lockwood only steps toward Ryan. 

“Sorry, Detective, there’s nothing I can do.” Montgomery shrugs his shoulders at her. “There’s only the battle, the place you make your stand. The only question is, did you make your stand on the winning side.” 

Crack. Crack. Ryan and Espo fall into the grass of the cemetery with two shots of Lockwood’s gun. A third crack. Lanie. 

“Please,” Kate whispers as Coonan turns his weapon on Castle. 

“Kate, it’s okay,” he whispers, but she can’t help the wail of anguish that comes out of her mouth as he too slumps to the ground. 

The three men, including Montgomery, exchange looks. Lockwood tramps over, pressing the barrel of his gun to her head. “Well, well, well,” he says. “You’re the only one left.” She waits for the end, the splitting pain and then the nothingness. “Too bad the Dragon wants you alive. Death is too quick for you. He’s going to let you live…without them.” 

Despair chokes Kate as she opens her eyes for real. She’s crying softly, uncontrollably, in the darkness of her bedroom. The only light comes from the digital clock reading 3:58 AM. 

She can’t do it; she can’t do it alone. The night terrors are too much to handle. Now it’s not just she who’s dying in them, but all of them. All the people she loves. Johanna. Jim. Ryan. Espo. Lanie. Castle. The urge to check that he’s all right overtakes her and her feet hit the ground. She opens the door to her room and enters the hallway, using the glow of her phone as a flashlight. Her own breathing is too loud to hear his, so she pushes Castle’s door open as well and approaches the bed. In the semi-darkness Kate can see his chest rising and falling as he sleeps. Only marginally comforted, she perches on the edge of the bed to watch him. Slowly her legs snake under the covers and she crawls in with him, reminiscent of the days she would crawl into bed with her parents—this same bed. She scoots closer until she can hear his breathing and feel the warmth of his body next to hers. Then she places her phone on the nightstand and curls up into his embrace. 

Chapter Text

Castle stirs underneath the blanket, hand coming across smooth skin that’s not his own. He turns his head, getting just a glimpse of golden brown hair before he’s staring back at the wall, eyes wide. Could it really be her? Somehow it feels like if he truly looks, he’ll just be let down. Kate Beckett, in his bed? It would be a miracle. 

Nevertheless, the suspense is killing him. So he quickly whips around for a peek, wondering who else it could be, and his hopelessly optimistic mind is just making up that it’s Kate. Meredith? Did he accidentally end up in bed with his ex-wife again? It wouldn’t be the first time... But no, she’s in Europe. 

In the instant Castle looks at the beautiful woman fast asleep next to him, he knows it’s her. Kate. Here, at last. 

Well, sort of. He doubts this will signify a drastic change in their relationship, but still…it’s a place he feared he’d never see her. If this is a dream, he thinks, I never want to wake up. 

But it isn’t a dream, and deep down he knows that. He knows it so much that he’s smiling contentedly at Kate snuggled in beside him, a warm glow at the pit of his stomach. With his other hand he blearily ribs his eyes, turning his head to look at the clock. Much too early to get up. 

He turns back to Kate, hesitantly hovering his arm over her body, wondering if he should let it down. He hovers indecisively for a moment, then slowly lays it across her. Maybe he’s overstepping her boundaries, maybe it’s too much too soon, but she’s the one who crawled into his bed, not the other way around. It’s time to set new boundaries, and he knows exactly where he’d like to be. 

She doesn’t react when his arm softly touches hers and he slowly lets the whole weight down on her. Still nothing. She’s in a deep, deep sleep. He traces a heart on her shoulder lightly with his thumb and then stops. There’s no way he’s leaving this bed until she wakes up, and he doesn’t feel sleepy anymore either. So he waits for some sign of stirring in her features, committing them to memory. She looks so peaceful right now…smooth breathing, free of tension, his arm cradling her… He almost wishes he could stay like this forever, memorizing the curvature of her rosy lips, sharp jawline, and long, dark eyelashes. But everything ends too soon, and two hours pass in the blink of an eye when she yawns like a kitten, blinking in the sunlight. Castle quickly shuts his eyes and pretends to be asleep, watching her movements through a slit. She pauses, studies him for a few seconds with an unreadable expression, and then her lips curve upwards slightly. She brushes over the back of his hand with her thumb before gently sliding his arm off her body, preparing to start the day. He catches her wrist. “Hey.” 

“Oh, you’re awake,” she says quietly, neither pleased nor disappointed by that fact. “I was just going to hop in the shower.” 

“Kate, wait a minute, please?”

Her indecision is written all over her face but she settles back onto the pillow. “Yeah?” 

“Just stay a minute.” He’s having trouble putting in the words what he wants to say; too many options, tones, stresses, and intonations are whirling around his brain. “Kate…” She looks at him expectantly, worry creasing her brow. She’s propped up on one elbow, waiting, but he still doesn’t know what he’s gonna say. “You’re beautiful in the morning, you know that?” Whatever she expected to come out of his mouth, that wasn’t it. Her features rearrange into a small smile as her ears tinge pink. She drops her head, hair obscuring her face for a minute. 

“Thanks, Castle. You’re not so bad yourself.” 

“Come on, don’t get up yet. It’s still early.” He applies a slight pressure to her arm, pulling it out from under her and coaxing her to stay here, in bed, with him. 

She considers for a moment and then snuggles into the crook of his arm. Inwardly, Castle crows. New boundaries, and he’s definitely getting a say in setting them. It’s perplexing, it’s confounding, it’s hesitant, but it’s also glorious. They’re completely comfortable there, or at least relaxed. She’s cutting off circulation to his arm a little too much for this to be classified as ‘completely comfortable.’ But there’s no way in hell he’s shifting and maybe causing her to decide it’s time to get up after all. This time with Kate is precious to him. 

He doesn’t dare hope that this is the start of a relationship. Perhaps just a step in the right direction. Castle absentmindedly traces random patterns onto the flesh of her arm, and he’s glad to realize she’s not flinching away. It might not be the most friend-like thing to do, but again, new boundaries. Redefining their connection, even if it’s officially ‘just friends.’ He can live with that…for now. 

She’s so extraordinary, beautiful, kind, spunky, and playful, he could just— He loves her, so much. And it’s as simple as that. 

“What are you thinking?” Kate whispers. A dangerous question, to say the least. 

“Just that I’m so happy to be here with you.” 

She hums in response and then adds, “There’s no one I’d rather go through this with.” His heart might burst with love and joy. They lay there like that for another few minutes, Castle basking in the warmth of softness of her body cuddled up against his. Then: 

“Castle, we should talk.” She pulls away from him and props herself up on her elbow again. He mimics her position, wary of the oncoming conversation but trying to look open and inviting to whatever she has to say. 

“Okay, we can talk,” he tells her softly. 

“I’m not ready for a relationship,” she says, eyes downcast. “Not yet. So I hope…I hope that’s not what you were expecting from this. And...” It’s a definite frown now, a struggle to get the words out. Waves of unhappiness radiate off her. “…and if it’s too painful for me to be here while we’re still just friends, then I’ll go. Back to my own bedroom, or you can go back to the city. If we’re going to be together, then I want to do it right. I want to give you my all, and I can’t do that during my recovery. I’m sorry if that changes anything for you, if that changes how you feel, or…” 

“Kate.” She meets his eyes, naked fear present in hers. “You’re worth waiting for.” He kisses her forehead gently, wiping away the lines of worry across her face. “I will wait for you, however long you need. Always. I promise.” 

Her beautiful brown eyes search his, full of fear, uncertainty, and…a tentative trust. Her silence and the way she settles back down with him tells Castle all he needs to know. 

The rest of the day passes as if it’s a dream in which they’re both just floating around blissfully. The next, however, bursts that bubble wide open. It all starts with the ringing of his cell. Kate’s out on her walk somewhere, and he practically leaps for it in case she needs help. 

But it’s not Kate. It’s Smith.

“Castle,” he answers it with a thudding heart. “Did they find out? Is Beckett still safe?” 

“Mr. Castle, this was a close call.” Castle breathes a sigh of relief. “Detective Beckett is still protected by the terms of my agreement with these men.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Mr. Castle, are you prepared to do anything to safeguard Detective Beckett’s well-being?” 

“Of course,” he says, surprised by the question. 

“Then listen to me very carefully. You need to replace the virus you scrubbed from her laptop immediately.” 

“Why?” Castle asks. “Oh! Wait, was that...placed by them? Will they know I deleted it? That didn’t even occur to me; I was just in so much of a panic that—“ 

“Is there a part of ‘listen’ you didn’t understand?” 

“Sorry. Continue.” 

“That virus was not placed by the men; it was put there by me. I do not know how they will know if she has looked into the case, so it was necessary for me to be able to head her off should she do so—head her off by informing you. Without it, we are flying blind.” 

“So you want me to reinstall it? How do I even do that?”

“Write this down, Mr. Castle.” He scrambles for pen and paper. “First, you have to...” 

Three dizzying minutes later, Castle sits on the couch doing his absolute best to look not guilty. Kate doesn’t seem to notice—perhaps because she’s exhausted. She certainly looks it. Castle pretends to tap a few keys on his keyboard and fiddle with the power cord. “Come on, come on, not right now…you’ve got to be kidding me!” 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, puzzled. 

“My laptop is dead because of this stupid flaky power cord, and I have this amazing couple of lines in my head for Chapter Eighteen, and I just can’t get it to work! Can I borrow your computer?” 

She rolls her eyes. “Pencil and paper too old school for you? Sure, in my bedroom.” 

“Thank you!” Castle exclaims, hurrying to get it. Kate disappears into the kitchen for a glass of water as he returns with it. He opens up a blank page and begins to type, brutally aware that she’s just sat down next to him to look over his shoulder. He makes something up on the fly, and then turns to look at her. “Could you not?” 

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh, so it’s okay for you to stare at me doing paperwork but it’s not okay for me to watch you write? Bit of a double standard there, Castle.” 

“It wrecks my concentration!” 

“And it doesn’t mine?” She lets the response hang in the air for a second before relenting, sliding off the couch and onto the floor to stretch and do her gentler exercises. He sincerely hopes she doesn’t check up on him again. 

Castle plugs in his flash drive and goes to the site Smith directed him to, downloading the virus twice—once onto the computer and a second time to the flash drive. He doesn’t exactly trust Smith. If this virus truly isn’t doing anything besides monitoring for Kate looking into her mom’s case, then he’s okay with it. But if it’s doing something else, seeing anything else, really—he’s not going to tolerate this invasion of her privacy. He has a friend in New York City who can tell him all he needs to know, a top-tier hacker whom he consulted while writing several of his books. A veritable treasure trove of information. Maybe there’s even a way to track down Smith through this virus, get Kate the answers she’s been searching for. So she can arrest whoever’s behind this and put it all behind her. Finally receive that last bit of closure. 

He ejects the drive and pockets it, deciding to hand it over to the Fox—his hacker’s screen name—when he returns to the city to give his manuscript over to Gina. From now until then, he’ll just have to live with the chance that he’s just stripped Kate of her cherished privacy. Telling Kate about Smith and all the secrets Castle’s been keeping from her is more distant a possibility than ever. In light of the new change in their relationship, he’s less willing to jeopardize the progress they’ve made over the course of three years. Cop and tag-along writer to partners. Partners to friends. Friends to—whatever the heck they are now. 

Yes, they’ve come a long way from those first few cases. He’s no longer a jackass. She no longer hates his guts. But one thing’s the same for sure: he’s just as smitten with Kate Beckett as he was when they first met. 

Chapter Text

Her hand shakes and a few splotches of hot brown liquid sear her skin. She hastily sets the pot down, nursing her burned thumb. The skin is fine, just maybe a little redder than normal, but not too bad. She rolls her eyes at herself, pursing her lips and berating herself for her clumsiness. Deep down she knows it’s not clumsiness that caused the accident, but it’s easier to face that than admit she can’t even pour a cup of coffee. 

She sets the pot down again and picks up the two mugs. Then Kate carefully rotates around so as not to spill any on the wood flooring of the kitchen or the carpet. With slow, shuffling steps, she makes her way to the bedroom—her parents’ bedroom, Castle’s bedroom, their bedroom, she doesn’t know what to call it. It used to be her parents’ bedroom, it’s officially Castle’s, and she spends all of her nights in there with him now—so what does that make it? It makes her head hurt just trying to puzzle it out. 

She gently pushes the door open with her elbow and perches on the edge of the bed. “Hey, sleepyhead.” Castle blinks up at her, bleary-eyed. He sighs. “Why are you up so early?” 

“It’s not early. It’s past eleven o’clock.” He grunts in response. “I didn’t feel you come in last night. How late were you up?!” 

“Let’s just say the sun beat me to it. But I did finish Chapter Nineteen. Is that coffee?” 

She smiles. “Yeah.” He pushes himself into a sitting position and accepts the cup from her. “So, how many chapters still left to do?” 

“Just one.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Hey, why are you the one bringing me coffee in bed? You’re the injured one; I should be serving you. You’re messing with the natural order of things.” 

“Castle, if you’re gonna stay with me, get used to me overturning the natural order of things.” A stray lock of hair falls into her face as she smiles cheekily. 

He pats the space next to him. “Come on, join me.” He holds her mug as she crawls over to her side and pulls the covers up over her legs. Castle smiles. “See, I could get used to this.” 

“Don’t. When we get back to the city, it’s separate apartments for us again,” she warns. “I don’t need everyone and the third cousin asking me why we’re carpooling to crime scenes in the morning.” 

“We don’t have to carpool,” he suggests, pouting. “A little harm to the environment seems a small price to pay to sleep with you.” She raises an eyebrow. “And by that I meant actual sleeping,” he clarifies. “Like, in the same bed.” 

“A: no, it’s not, and B: I need to stand on my own two feet, Castle.” 

He meets her gaze seriously. “Are you actually thinking about this? You’re nowhere close to getting back to the precinct yet. We can wait a while to discuss what happens with us when you do. Besides, by then, maybe we’ll be, you know, us.” 

Kate frowns, returning her gaze to her coffee. A flare of anger had arisen when he mentioned she was ‘nowhere near’ getting back to the precinct, but she’s willing to overlook it for now. The constant reminders of that are getting tiresome. “I don’t know, Castle. There’s a lot of stuff I have to figure out. Recovery. PTSD. My mom. Just don’t push me.” 

“I’m sorry, I—“ 

“I’m getting in the shower.” She slips her legs out of the bed and disappears out the door. The hot water does clear her mind somewhat, but Castle ambushes her nearly as soon as she steps into the hallway again with freshly blow-dried hair. 

“Kate, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to push you. I understand that you have more stuff to sort out than most. I told you I’d wait, and I will. I shouldn’t have assumed we could become ‘us’ as soon as you got back to the precinct. I care about you a lot, and you come foremost, above anything I want from you. Are we...are we okay?” 

“Yeah, Castle, I know. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I care...a lot...about you too, and I appreciate your giving me time.” She dips her head and walks to the door, checking to make sure her phone is safely nestled in her pocket. 

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Walk, like normal,” she says, barely meeting his eyes before disappearing outside. 

Castle watches her go with unease in his heart. Nothing about the way she spoke those last words says ‘we’re good’ to him, but he’ll have to take her word for it. She’s obviously not going to reveal anything else. He sits down at the table to a bowl of cereal and the newspaper on his laptop. He’s halfway through the last mildly interesting article when Gina calls. Please tell me she’s not tightening the deadline, he thinks. “Castle.” 

“Rick, we didn’t forget about our deadline, did we?”

“No…” Castle says. “What makes you feel the need to check up on me?” 

“Oh, let me think…” Gina drawls. “Last minute Christmas present shopping. Nonexistent grocery shopping in general. Overdue library books. Late dinner reservations. And that’s just from the few years we were married.” 

“You wound me,” Castle says, scowling. “I’m almost finished with Heat Rises. So get off my case.” 

“’Almost finished’ like you were almost finished with Driving Storm when you still had twelve chapters to write? ‘Almost finished’ like you were with Kissed and Killed when you didn’t even have a name for the main character?” 

“No, not like that. I’ll get it done, Gina. On time.” Pause, and then he clarifies. “By ‘on time’ I mean by this deadline—not the last three you’ve set me for the book. Those don’t count.” 

“You’d better, Rick. My desk, by midnight on the eleventh. Or you just might find your contract with Black Pawn dropped.” 

Yeah, right, he thinks. Like Black Pawn would dare drop him—he’s one of their biggest claims to fame. “Just to be clear, do you mean by the first minute of the eleventh or the first minute of the twelfth? Because technically by your wording I’d have to get it to you on Friday the tenth, but by common social phrasing you actually meant by the end of the eleventh. So it’s ambiguous.” 

“Only you would think that hard about it, Rick.” She ends the call, leaving him hanging. He supposes it’s no skin off her teeth if he turns in the manuscript a day early because of her ambiguity. Unfortunately for his ex-wife, she and her threats don’t scare him nearly enough to force him to. He supposes he’d better start writing anyway. 

“Long walk, what’d you do?” Castle asks as she steps back into the living room an hour and a half later. She has a glass of water in her hand and seems to be moving a bit stiffer than normal. He tries to look her over and assess her physical state without seeming critical. From the way her eyes harden, he’s failed in that regard. 

“Desensitization exercises,” she says tiredly. The lethargy with which she sinks down on the couch does not escape him. “Dr. Burke recommended them to me before I left.” 

“Tell me about them,” Castle prompts. She looks at him quizzically. “Maybe I’ll use them as fodder for my next book. Maybe Nikki will have some form of PTSD, like you.” He notices she doesn’t seem to like the comparison all too much, so he tries to lighten the mood. “But, unlike you, she’d get shot on the run from mobsters or ex-CIA hit men.” He receives the slightest hint of a smile for that. “Although…” he murmurs, thinking aloud, “I’m not sure Nikki’s the type to get PTSD. She’s too compartmentalized, too tough.” 

At once Kate stiffens and anger mixed with hurt flashes through her eyes. He tries to backtrack, correct his poor wording, but it’s too late. She’s disappearing into her bedroom as fast as she can manage. The door slams shut behind her. 

Anger and hurt fuel Kate’s flight, but once the door slams she jumps out of her skin, landing on her bed in a ball. The waves of fury coursing through her negate the shell-shock for once, but as she uncurls she’s completely exhausted. She had been both physically and mentally drained from the walk, and Castle basically calling her weak for her nightmares and flashbacks, as if they were something she could control, is the last straw. If he doesn’t want to stay here anymore because I’m taking too long to get better, then he can leave, she thinks vengefully. She tries to ignore how much her heart flutters with lonely anticipation at the thought. 

“Kate,” he knocks at the door. His use of her first name, far from comforting her, only angers her further. It’s been clear that he no longer thinks of her as Beckett, and she had hoped that their growing relation—no, friendship was the reason why. Now it’s clear to her that she was mistaken. Castle no longer thinks of her as Detective Beckett, his muse and inspiration, because she isn’t that woman anymore. She’s just Kate, the fallen cop who needs protecting and can’t get back up. It’s amazing that just a few hours ago she was enjoying his use of her first name and the closeness it brought them. 

“Kate, listen,” he begins again. “I didn’t mean that you’re not strong. You’re the strongest, most daring, most enchanting woman I know. I just meant that I might not be able to sell it to the readers. They might not understand that even the best are still human.” 

She listens to his placating words but does not deign to open the door. Though his words make sense, she cannot shake her nagging expectation for him to leave. She cannot fully accept that a best-selling author millionaire playboy is staying in a small old cabin to babysit an injured police officer who has so far rejected or indefinitely postponed all of his advances. After a few moments, she hears his footsteps recede back to the living room and she lets out a pent up breath. Though it’s only one o’clock in the afternoon, she decides to take a short nap. For a moment she considers the pain medication on the bedside table but decides to forego it. She can handle a little pain later…even if she’s not Nikki Heat. 

It’s at moments like this that she wishes he had never even written those stupid books. Times like this reinforce her thought that maybe feeling nothing at all is better than feeling like this. That’s the way she felt when her mother was murdered. That’s the way she felt when her dad failed to stay sober for the fifth time. That’s the way she felt when he left with Gina last summer. 

Some days she worries that she’s cut off her emotions for too long to be able to truly love again. Some days she wishes she could just crawl back into that pit and never emerge. She’s just been feeling so mercurial lately… it’s exhausting. 

Her mother always said that life never delivers more than one could handle. But right at that moment, the universe seems to be trying really hard to prove Johanna Beckett wrong: 

Kate’s cell phone rings, and she pulls it out of her jacket pocket. She reads the caller ID twice to make sure she’s seeing it right. 

Josh Davidson. 

Chapter Text

That man must be clairvoyant. How else could he manage to call her at this exact moment, right at her weakest? Right when she was having problems with Castle. 

Perfect. Just perfect timing.

In her stupor it goes to voicemail. “Hey, Kate, it’s me. Listen, my trip to Africa got cut short and I’m back in New York. I really want to see you. Call me back?” 

Disgustedly she tosses the phone away from her onto the bedspread, cradling her head in her hands. What to do? 

She closes her eyes, reliving that moment again. In her mind’s eye she can see his caring face and concerned tone of voice. He was always steady, always the one with the answers, and, when not answers, the reassurance. “Hey, look. Just let me take care of you for a little while. Once you’re released, I’m planning to take a couple weeks off to help you get back on your feet. The trip to Africa with Dr. Carroll can wait another year.” Kate remembers not wanting him to put his life on hold for her when she was in love with Castle. And that’s still true. Does Josh think they can get back together? Did she not make that clear enough last time she saw him? 

“No, listen, Josh,” she said. “I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me. Go do your rounds, go to Africa.” 

“Kate, it’s not a problem. I want to.” He was so sweet and kind. Looking back on it, she hates the hell she put him through. “You’re...you’re breaking up with me? This is it?” 

“I’m sorry, Josh.”

Wasn’t that ‘goodbye’ enough? He even said it himself. “Goodbye, Kate.” And then he stormed out the door. 

She doesn’t get how that could be misinterpreted, but…

Bottom line, Josh was a nice guy. He treated her well, made her laugh, made her feel loved. Sure, he was gone a lot. But so was she—gone being a cop, long nights at the precinct, early mornings that didn’t leave time for much more than a quick kiss good morning. None of that was his fault. For another woman, the time he had would have been enough. Another woman could have accompanied him on his trips or made the most of the time they had together. But Kate couldn’t, and so the relationship wasn’t enough for her. Wasn’t what she was looking for. 

And then there’s Castle. Kate falling for him…that definitely wasn’t Josh’s fault either. 

So…so if he needs closure, then she owes it to him. And not over a phone call either—she can’t deliver this news—this blow—to Josh without doing it in person. He deserves more than a phone call. So, when to meet him? She’s not exactly mobile right now. 

The eleventh. Castle will be going into the city anyway, so why can’t she tag along? Although…what will she tell him, that she’s going to meet the ex-boyfriend he hates for coffee? Nope, not happening. How about Lanie? Have Castle drop her off at the morgue but turn around and meet Josh before she has lunch with Lanie… Sounds reasonable. She just hopes she can survive in the city that long. 

She drags herself over to where she threw her cell phone and calls him back, crossing her fingers he won’t pick up. Today is not her lucky day. “Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me,” she says, threading her fingers into the blankets. 

“Hey, you,” he replies, and a pang steals through her heart for what they had. It wasn’t love, not for her, but it was something genuine. Camaraderie. Friendship. “Did you get my message?” 

She purses her lips, frowning slightly. “Yeah, yeah, I did. Are you free Saturday morning, or are you on shift at the hospital? I was hoping we could talk over coffee.” 

“Uh...let me check my calendar,” he says. There’s a rustling of papers across the line. “Yeah, I’m free. Amazing that, I’m booked solid until then and after that.” He laughs. “It’ll be great to see you, Kate.” 

“You too,” she lies. “Until then.” She hangs up. 

That night she goes through hell. She doesn’t emerge from her room, doesn’t speak to Castle, doesn’t do anything but text Lanie and ask if they can meet for lunch that day, and spends the rest of her time staring up at the ceiling. She can’t even lie on her back to do that, because then she goes back to that cemetery with the life bleeding out of her and Castle above her desperately willing her to hang on. Eventually she just ends up staring at the blank white wall. 

She’s not trying to punish him. If anything, she’s punishing herself. He made a mistake, didn’t think about what he was saying, that’s all. She’s the one who overreacted. It’s just…she clenches her teeth just thinking about her latest foray into the woods. 

She was almost ready to go back when she saw it, up in a tree. She had just made it to the river, where the dirt turned into sand in a small clearing. A kite, far above her head and ensnared in the limbs of a large oak. Her kite, the one she made with her dad when she was five and subsequently lost years later. How did it end up there? She has no idea, but weirder things have happened. Hell, she’s been sleeping in the same bed with millionaire Richard Castle for the last few nights. Weirder things definitely have happened. 

She tried reaching up to untangle it, but her arms don’t go straight above her head right now and even then she’d be lacking two feet or so. The tree was burly with a thick, strong trunk, so she’d decided to climb a few feet up and pull it down. When she was little, she had been amazing at climbing trees, better than all her classmates. Her dad had called her his ‘regular little monkey.’ 

But she couldn’t. She’d gotten five feet up and was reaching out for it when pain exploded in her chest and her arms went weak. She landed flat on her back on the ground, stars flashing before her eyes. No head injury, the wind just knocked out of her. And a wounded pride. 

It was a few minutes before she’s recovered enough to push herself to her feet, find a long stick, and prod it until it was within her reach. It took more than half an hour to untangle it and cut the extra string with a sharp rock against the trunk, but she wouldn’t have had the strength to go all the way out there twice in one day. And if she left it there, who knows if it would have been still lodged there tomorrow. 

And then when she had gotten back to the cabin... Castle.

So now, here she is: alone. Her bed is cold and uninviting without him by her side. 

The next morning she awakes before the sun is even up after a night of terror and tears. Her arms have fingernail marks where she’s clenched them. Scarcely an hour passed when she wasn’t visited by Lockwood or Coonan or her unidentified sniper. This time, Vulcan Simmons had joined their number, leaning in close to growl in her ear, “Rich bitch from uptown on safari in the Heights. Somebody should have warned her not to feed or tease the animals. If they had, she might not have gotten eaten.” And then his laughter, a booming, smirking guffaw. “From what I hear though, she was pretty tasty.” 

Kate purses her lips into a thin line, recalling the memory of that interrogation room where he said those exact words to her. She also remembers the fleeting—but sweet—satisfaction she got from slamming him into the mirror hard enough to shatter it. 

Wiping her eyes on her arm, she throws off the covers and pushes herself out of bed. Her back is sore where she landed on it, but she’s glad overextending herself yesterday has seemed to have had no severe repercussions as far as her wounds go. She doesn’t think she could handle being told she’s to have an even longer recovery time right now. 

Kate pulls open her drawer and throws clothes onto the bed behind her. After dressing, she washes her face and brushes her hair. Then she goes back to her bed, lying on her stomach with her elbows propping up her head so she can stare out the high window at the lightening sky. 

A rustling catches her attention and she turns her head towards the door to see a slip of paper being shoved under the crack. She picks it up with a slight frown, bewildered. Kate unfolds it to find Castle’s usual scrawl. Are you still mad at me? 

For some reason, the childlike simplicity of the note makes her smile. She hurries to find a pencil and write back. No.

There’s a scratching sound from outside before the paper is returned to her like before. Can I come in? 

Since when do you ask for permission? She gives him a second to read her reply before opening the door herself. “Hey,” she says. She gives him a slight smile to let him know that’s she’s fine. Kate sits cross-legged on the bed and gestures for him to sit across from her. 

“I’m sorry for what I said, Kate.” 

“It’s not your fault.” She shrugs her shoulders slightly. “I mean, yeah, it wasn’t the greatest thing to have said to me, but it definitely wasn’t your worst blunder. I overreacted, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to take my frustrations out on you. You least of all people.” 

Castle nods, leaning forward. “I understand, Kate. It’s frustrating; I know that. You were free and independent before this and now life is tying you down. It feels like your life has been put on hold while you recover.” Kate’s gaze drops to the bedcovers as he reads her. He’s always been able to read her well. The idea of someone else knowing her innermost thoughts makes her skin tingle a little bit. “Going from New York City Homicide Detective to living in near seclusion in the woods for your own peace of mind isn’t an easy transition, and I respect that.” He’s only skimmed the surface, but that’s a deep lake and she hasn’t even shown him its true depth. “You’ve been through the emotional looking glass in your life, Kate. I can’t pretend to know what that was like or be able to relate, but I would like to listen. I would like to be there for you.” 

“You are,” she speaks quietly, slowly. She’s determined he hear every word of this. “You are, Castle. You were there when that little girl, Angela Candela, was kidnapped. You were there when I killed Dick Coonan, the contract killer who murdered my mom. You were there to pull me out of my blown up apartment and you had my father’s watch fixed. You were there when Royce betrayed me, when he revealed he wasn’t the man I fell in love with. You were there when Raglan was shot right in front of us. You were there in that freezer with me, and when we realized we wouldn’t have the time or the knowledge to disarm that dirty bomb. You followed me to LA even though it was against my orders to go. You tried to save me when I got shot, and you were there in the hospital. You’re there for me; you have been for three years. And even though I may not share my emotions readily during those periods, it doesn’t mean I don’t notice or that I don’t appreciate it. It matters. I told you once that I had a hard job, and that you make it a little more fun. Well, the truth is I live a hard life, and you make it a lot more bearable with your jokes and your antics and your concern.” Their eyes meet and his soften. “So thanks, for…for being there.” 

“Always, Kate.” He takes her hand in his and she smiles, giving it a squeeze. 

“Thanks for the ride, Castle,” she says, opening the car door and stepping out onto the sidewalk. She shuts it just hard enough to latch it and squeeze her eyes shut at the sound, breath catching in her chest. Adrenaline races through her fingers, but after a few moments she opens her eyes again and steps away from the car. Castle rolls down the window. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you inside?” he asks uncertainly. She gives him the look. “Okay. See you in a few hours.” She smiles reassuringly, although that may have come off more weak than reassuring. But it’s the best she can do, given that she’s been lying to him this whole ride and she’s about to meet her ex-boyfriend for coffee behind his back. As much as she’s been trying to tell herself it doesn’t affect him, that it isn’t any of his business, it is. It is because he’s in love with her. 

But that doesn’t change her duty to Josh. So she walks through the doors into the morgue, turns, and waves at him through the glass. He waves back and then signals, checks behind him, and pulls back out onto the street. 

She watches him drive away before hurrying back out to the sidewalk to hail a cab. Kate climbs in with a lead weight in her heart and tells the driver where to go. When she arrives, she pays him automatically, thoughts far away. 

She spots Josh as soon as she pulls open the door to the café. He greets her happily, standing and gesturing to the booth seat across from him. “Hey, you,” he says. 

“Hey,” she smiles in spite of herself. The waitress appears seemingly out of nowhere to place a mug in front of each of them. 

“I ordered for you,” he offers in explanation as the waitress retreats. “I remember what you like. And that you’re supposed to be caffeine free right now…how’re you doing with that?” His eyes twinkle; he’s teasing her. 

“Everyone kept talking about how painful the wound would be,” Kate replies lightly, “but no one warned me about the caffeine withdrawal.” They’re falling into that easy rhythm again, and Kate remembers how easy it is to talk to him. 

“How’ve you been?” Josh asks. 

“Recovering,” Kate supplies. “Can’t wait to get my badge back. You?” 

“I’ve been…doing okay,” he responds with an almost pained smile. “You look good.” 

“Thanks.” She ducks her head slightly, well aware this is the first time she’s worn makeup in at least a week. It’s good to know it covers up the bags under her eyes from sleepless nights. “So do you.” 

“Listen,” Josh says, leaning forward. He has an air of excitement, of hopefulness about him. “Now that I’m back in town and you have what I expect is a copious and marginally aggravating amount of free time, I was thinking maybe we could give us another shot.” He connects the two of them with his forefinger. 

“Josh, I’m sorry, but no,” Kate says. She’s looking him straight in the eyes as she says it, making sure he knows she’s serious and that what she says next is just as true as well. “You’re a great guy, and I really like you. I value what we had, I do, and I thank you for being there when you could and calling when you couldn’t. It isn’t because of you. But for me, it wasn’t love. Not that kind. I’m sorry.” 

The man across from her freezes for a minute, despair flashing across his face. Then: “No, Kate, it’s fine. I won’t say that it doesn’t hurt, but I understand. Castle?” Kate frowns, surprised at the question. Especially by the gentleness in his voice as he said his name, so unlike last time when he had nearly yelled it at her. Her hesitation must be obvious to him because he adds, “I know we didn’t work out as a couple, but could we just take a shot at being friends?” 

Kate thinks about it, and then nods. It takes her a moment more, but she does answer his question. Or attempts to. “Yeah, Castle. Maybe.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know.” 

“Have you seen him since the hospital?” 

She does a double-take at the question. “What? Oh, you don’t—Castle’s been staying with me, in my dad’s cabin.” 

“Oh.” She’s glad she didn’t mention that they were sharing a bed. Not that she would have, but… “That’s… big.” 

She shrugs. “Sort of. I don’t know. It’s confusing.” 

He looks genuinely interested, not accusing at all. She’s grateful. Maybe this could actually work. “Last I heard you asked him to vacate the hospital. How did this come about?” 

“I—“ she stops, puzzled. Her interrogation instincts are kicking in. “How did you know about that?” 

“I…heard one of the nurses gossiping about it. I mean, because he’s Richard Castle and all.” Josh hurriedly picks up his mug to take another drink. 

“Josh, come on. I can tell when you’re lying to me. What is it?” 

“Well...Castle and I might have had a fight that night.”

“That night? What kind of fight?”

“A...bar...fight...” 

“What? Did you hit him?” 

“Well…yeah… But in my defense, he smashed a bottle over me.” He’s losing her, and he knows it. “It was even on page six.” 

Inside, Kate’s fuming. Fuming at Castle, for not telling her this. Fuming at any and all of her friends who knew about this and didn’t think to inform her. And especially at Josh, now that her irrational protective side has been fired up. But she clenches her teeth and forces it down, forces her voice to a civil tone. “Josh, this isn’t going to work. Please, for both our sakes, don’t contact me again.” She rises from her booth and slaps a five down on the table. 

Soon enough she’s back at the morgue, having utilized the length of the car ride to look online for a digital version of that article. Holding her phone like a weapon, she practically barges into the building. “Lanie, why didn’t you tell me about this?” 

“Kate!” Lanie exclaims, pulling off her blue latex gloves. “I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour!” 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Kate shoves the phone at her friend, who squints bewilderedly down at it. Then recognition floods her face. 

“Oh, Kate…I’m sorry, I just couldn’t think of a time to bring it up. Or a reason to. Is it really that important to you? In the grand scheme of things?” 

Kate snatches the phone back. “No,” she deflates sullenly. 

“Like I said, I’m sorry,” Lanie bustles around the body on the exam table, pulling the sheet back over his face. In the middle of straightening her tools on the cart she turns around and narrows her eyes at Kate. “That can’t be all that’s on your mind. What’s going on?” 

Kate sighs. “I found out about the fight from Josh.”

“Oh.” Comprehension. “Why’d you go to meet him in the first place?” 

“I don’t know,” Kate sighs, “closure?” 

“I see,” says Lanie. “From the look on your face that’s like you just ran over a squirrel, I take it it didn’t go well?” 

“No, he was fine. We were almost friends, and then…” 

“Why did the fight matter so much to you? According to my sources, they both took a beating. Not just writer-boy.” 

Kate frowns, thinking.

“Well? Earth to Kate.” Lanie’s standing right in front of her now.

“Lanie…” she says. “Lanie, I think I’m in love with him!”

“You’re just now realizing that, girlfriend?” Lanie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Took you long enough.” 

Chapter Text

Kate claps a hand over her mouth. “Did I just say that out loud?”

Lanie appears amused. “And it’s about time. Go on; tell the man how you feel!” 

Her face falls. “Lanie, I can’t. It’s just…it’s just not the right time.” 

“No time like the present.” The M.E. sighs and gestures to the wall of body storage lockers behind her. “Ten years I’ve been keeping them company while they spend a night or two here on their way to where we’re all goin’. They all had plans, Kate. Things they were gonna do when they got around to it: go on a cruise, lose ten pounds, fall in love. They thought they had all the time in the world, but nobody does.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Kate asks in a hushed voice, glancing furtively around the morgue for Lanie’s colleagues. No one is in the room with them, but there are voices in the hallway and she can see Perlmutter through the glass separating their two stations. “I died a few weeks ago, Lanie. I felt my heart stop beating in my chest.” 

“Then why are you still waitin’ around?” Kate frowns. Lanie pulls up a couple stools for the two of them and leans in closer. “Girl, look, do you remember when we first met? Start of spring semester of the third year? You had just transferred schools and switched majors, pre-law to criminal justice and you were worried you wouldn’t be accepted into the police academy or that you wouldn’t learn to shoot a gun well enough to pass the examinations because you’d never done anything like that before. You basically turned your life around overnight, headed in an entirely new direction. It was a turning point, Kate. And so is this.” 

“This is nothing like that,” Kate protests. 

“You must have had the same types of fears then as you do now. Back then it was…what if you were no good at criminal justice, or…what if you hated being a cop. What did you tell yourself to get over them?” 

“That it would all be worth it in the end,” Kate mumbles. 

“You might have found true love, Kate. If this isn’t it, then I don’t know what is. Isn’t that worth it in the end as well? Isn’t the possibility of true love worth the uncertainty of just diving in?” 

Castle parks the car outside Black Pawn, nodding to the security guard out front named Ricky. Ricky gives a friendly wave back. Everyone here knows who he is, evidenced by the smattering of interns leaning out office doors to get a glimpse of him walking down the hall after he exits the elevator. 

He doesn’t bother to knock on Gina’s door—their tolerate-hate relationship throws most social niceties out the window—but instead drops his bin of papers on her desk over the document she’d been poring over. The papers are still slightly warm; he’s just picked them up from the printing place he’d sent them off to a few minutes ago. “Impressive,” Gina’s bloodred lips curve into a mocking smile. “I wasn’t sure you would get it here on time. Your track record leaves something to be desired on this sort of thing.” 

“Could we just skip the sly insults and get this over with?” Castle asks. 

“Somewhere you have to be?” Gina prompts. She taps the bin with her signature red gel pen. “Sit.” Rolling his eyes and clenching his jaw, Castle obeys. “So, I hear you had a run in with page six a couple of weeks ago. A bit early to be gathering attention for the book, but I’ve always said you have a thing for the spotlight.” 

“That’s not what it was about, Gina,” Castle says through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, no, that’s right—it’s about that Detective, the one who was shot. Katherine Beckett, right? How is she, by the way?” 

“She’s recovering,” Castle growls. 

“You see much of her lately? Rumor has it your daughter’s been traveling for the last week…maybe you’ve been using your free time to chase after the inspiration for Nikki Heat?” 

“I don’t have to chase after her. She invited me to stay with her.” 

“Well then, things are moving along quite nicely then for you. But as your publisher, I have to ask,” Gina leans in close, “if things don’t work out between you and her, are you going to kill off yet another golden goose? Heat’s doing as well as Storm ever did—some would say better, seeing as they’re making a movie— and I don’t like the idea of yet another main character of yours getting killed off over something petty.” 

“Petty?” Castle growls. “Are you sure you’re talking as my publisher? Because you sound an awful lot like my bloodsucking ex-wife.” 

“Hilarious as ever, Rick. But I’m expecting many, many more Nikki Heats before you and I are done.” 

“Ooh, can we end it now?” 

“Still funny. Sign here.” She shoves a piece of paper at him and drops a ballpoint pen on top of it. 

“Wait, for real? You’re negating my contract?” 

“You wish. No, this is to certify that you allow me to edit and Black Pawn to publish Heat Rises, and of course that this work is entirely your own.” Her voice neared monotone at the close of that statement. 

“Oh.” Castle scribbles his signature on the line. “There. May I go now?” 

“You may.” Gina lifts the lid off his bin and removes the stack of papers, setting them down in front of her with a thump. “I’ll see you back here in a week to go over changes.” No requests. No calendar-checking. Just, “see you back here.” That’s Gina, all right. 

Castle exits the office as quickly as he can, glad to be out of that stuffy room with that aggravating blonde and to be done staring at the evil red fountain pen—the first of what he’s sure will be many to obliterate his beautiful work and replace it with, well, sentences that “move the plot along” and “develop the characters more quickly.” Although he has to admit, her critiques do help. As the author oftentimes he’s too close to the story to see the bigger picture, but Gina’s just right—adept command of the English language, knows his style, and has extensive knowledge of all the history and back story of Nikki Heat and the rest of his characters. 

Outside, Ricky keeps watch for lurking paparazzi as Castle enters his car. Before he starts it, he pats his pocket to check that the flash drive is still there. It is. He waves a thank-you and goodbye to Ricky as he drives away. 

He moves smoothly through lanes of traffic to a small coffee shop that is both obscure and expensive, just the way the Fox likes it. He recognizes him immediately upon entering the establishment but waits to make eye contact before taking a chair across from him. 

“So, I heard you needed my help again, Castle. Another book? I give you any more trade secrets as ‘research,’ you’re going to put me out of business.” 

“No, not this time, Fox.” Castle slips the drive out of his pocket and sets it on the table. Then he pushes it across to the man, who looks to be in his mid-forties with graying hair and piercing blue eyes. 

“What’s this?” 

“It contains a virus that was put on my friend’s laptop,” Castle explains. “I need to know exactly what it’s doing and where it’s sending the information.” 

“Depending on the skill of the programmer and how common the code, this could take some time.” 

“That’s fine,” Castle says automatically. “Just as soon as you can get back to me. It’s important.” 

The Fox squints at Castle. “Just how important, exactly? If we put a price on it?” 

“Forty thousand,” Castle throws out. The Fox shakes his head slightly, and Castle fears he’s going to ask for more. Castle’s rich, but he did promise all the profit of Heat Rises to charity. Another couple transactions like these and his next book—the one without even a title yet—might have to be written without his normal amount of procrastination. Still, the Fox is very good at what he does. Castle knows he’s been hired by men much wealthier than him. “Fifty.” 

The Fox laughs, a booming sound that instills both unease and relief. “No, no, I don’t want your money.” 

“Then what?” 

“A character, in your next book.” 

Castle cuts in again before he can finish, surprised and relieved. “Based on you? I thought you enjoyed your anonymity.” 

“I do. However, I have a potential client with deep pockets that will only hire me if I can prove how wide my network is. He implied that a character in one of your books would suffice as evidence as to my connection with the fiction world.” 

“Deal,” Castle says. “Tell me about this character.” 

“A man, named Clark Mathis. He doesn’t have to be prominent, just a suspect interview or an interrogation will satisfy the requirements. He should be wearing a blue striped tie and a gold watch. Also a red-and-blue campaign pin with the letters FF on his right side of his suit.” 

Castle scribbles down the information on a scrap of paper. “Can I have any information on your client? Maybe I can put in something in the acknowledgements that he’ll recognize as well—“ 

“No, that won’t be necessary,” the Fox cuts him off. “The client is, say…a politician that likes to stay both in and out of the public eye.” 

“Remind me not to vote for this guy,” Castle mutters. He tucks the scrap of paper into his pocket. “Thank you so much.” He stands to leave. 

“Don’t thank me,” warns the Fox. “This is a business transaction, nothing more. I shall examine your virus and get back to you within a week, Mr. Castle. And I’m sure you remember that if you don’t hold up your end of the bargain, there’s nowhere in the world you can hide from me.” 

“There he is,” Kate says upon the buzzing of her cell phone. “He’d come in, but he’s technically not allowed without a cop if he’s not here to ID a victim.” 

“Since when does he follow the rules?” the M.E. asks, rolling her eyes. 

Kate shrugs and immediately regrets the movement, wincing. She glances down at the phone again. “Ah, there we are. ‘I might be parked illegally as well.’” She drops her phone back in her pocket and smiles at Lanie. “Thanks for lunch.” 

“Get going, skedaddle,” Lanie nods, pulling on her blue exam gloves with a definitive snap. “Ryan’s gonna be here soon anyway—I found some interesting details about the bullets in the victim for his latest case.” 

She pauses by the door. “What kind of details?”

“Kate...”

“Leaving,” Kate agrees with a sigh. “Can’t wait until I get my badge back.” 

“Remember what I said earlier!” Lanie calls after her. 

In the short length of the hallway, Kate resolves to do it. Before she can back out, she hurries down the steps as fast as she can manage to where Castle waits at the bottom. She meets his eyes for just a second before she collides with him, pressing her lips to his in a soft, full kiss. It’s just a moment before they break apart, but in those moments the air coalesces around them and everything in the world ceases to matter save the arm he has looped around her waist and the look of surprise and adoration in his eyes. His love is mirrored in the look she gives him, but she says nothing. On unspoken consent, her hand snakes its way into his. As they walk to the car together, Kate glances back at the morgue building, wanting to thank Lanie for her advice. The M.E. isn’t visible, but no matter. Her best friend is always a phone call away. 

For right now, Kate just wants this moment to never end. 

But, of course, it does: their fingers separate unwillingly as Castle goes around the car to get into the drivers’ seat. That glorious feeling, however, doesn’t dissipate and is renewed with every beat of her heart. 

Chapter Text

The next morning finds Kate and Castle in bed together—clothes still on, boundaries unbreached. Well, all except one. Castle smiles happily as he kisses her good morning, and her eyes sparkle back at him. She cuddles up to him as he sighs contentedly, running his thumb lightly over the the crook of her elbow. “Wanna talk?” he asks. 

“If you want,” she murmurs. 

He glances down at her to see that her eyes are closed. “Do you remember anything from the night?”

“Like what?” 

“Like…the nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?” He keeps his tone soft and gentle, perfectly aware of what he’s asking her to do, what he’s asking her to relive. But he’s not just doing it for his own selfish curiosity—although he’d be lying if he claimed that wasn’t part of it—he honestly believes talking about with him will help her. Why else is he here? Besides the obvious being-in-love-with-her part. 

“You died,” she says bluntly. “I died; Mom died. Everyone died. Almost makes me want to be tortured in my dreams just to change it up a little.” He sees right through her attempt to lighten it, sees the pain in her eyes. 

“I’m right here, Kate. And so are you. We’re safe.” He wishes he could say the same about her mother, but there’s really nothing adequate. 

“I know,” she says softly. “And it helps…to wake up and have you right there. Even if you don’t wake up, it helps to watch you breathe to reassure myself you’re still alive.” 

“Wake me more often,” Castle tells her. “I don’t want you to have to go through a single bit of this alone. I want to hold you and comfort you and kiss you when it all becomes too much. No one should have to go through this alone, least of all you.” 

“Castle?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry for kicking you.” She says it with such seriousness that he has to laugh. His shins are a little tender, come to think of it. 

“You can kick me as much as you want as long as you’re staying in my bed,” he chuckles. 

“Always comes back to that,” she teases. “So, listen, is it okay if we just take this slow for a while? Under wraps?” 

“You mean I can’t declare my undying love for you with a five-hundred-person flash mob in Times Square and make it a blaring headline on page six?” The look of horror on her face is quickly replaced with exasperation, but it’s priceless nonetheless. “Just kidding.” 

She punches him none-too-softly in the arm. “Yes, that’s what it means. Let’s just keep this to ourselves for a little while, okay? Let’s not tell anyone at least until Alexis comes back.” 

“Agreed,” Castle smiles at her. A cell phone rings from somewhere in the room.

“I’d say a body dropped, but I don’t get those calls anymore,” Kate grumbles, rolling over onto her side. 

“That and it’s my phone,” Castle acknowledges. He settles back on his pillow and answers it. “But it is the precinct! Castle.” 

“Hey, it’s Ryan,” the detective on the other side says. 

Castle switches it to speaker and lays his phone on the bed between them. “Ryan, what’s up? Haven’t talked to you in a while.” 

“Bro, did he really see you?” Esposito breaks in. “Uh…see me where?” Castle asks, confused. 

Ryan’s laughter is written all over his voice. “At the morgue,” he says innocently. Kate sits up in bed so fast she’s gasping. Castle fumbles for the phone. It slips out of his grasp once, sliding halfway across the bed before he manages to snatch it up and hit the speaker button again. He presses it to his ear and rests a hand on Kate’s shoulder to check if she’s okay. Her breathing is labored, but she waves him off. 

“At the…at the morgue,” Castle stutters. “I, um, what would we…I mean, I, be doing there?” 

“I don’t know why you were there, but I definitely knew what you were doing,” Ryan continues in that same voice. 

“When Ryan first told me, I told him to shut it,” Esposito interrupts again. “You and Beckett? How’d you manage that, bro?” Beckett’s shooting him her premium glare, one that clearly says ‘Give me the phone, now.’ 

Castle shakes his head at her, eyebrows furrowing. “What makes you think we’re together?” 

“Really, dude? Don’t try to keep this from us,” Esposito scolds. 

Kate lunges at him, fingernails clawing to no avail. Castle holds up one finger in warning, hoping she’ll catch his meaning as he places the phone on the bed again and allows her to hear it too. ‘Don’t speak.’ 

“Ryan saw you two making out in front of the steps,” Esposito continues. “And he said it was hot.” Kate’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head and she motions frantically at Castle to deny it. Her antics aren’t helping his improvisation. 

“Okay, for the record, it was chaste,” Castle says heatedly. Kate rolls her eyes and falls back onto her pillow with a fwump!. “And secondly, why the hell were you spying on us?” 

“I wasn’t spying, Castle,” Ryan says. “I was going to the morgue to get some details on the victim for our case. I didn’t expect to find you two there.” 

“So, details, bro,” Esposito cuts in again. “You and Beckett. How did that happen?” Kate drags her finger across her throat, giving him a venomous look. 

“Sorry guys, I’m not at liberty to discuss it,” Castle replies, trying to sound apologetic. “Beckett wants to keep this under wraps, so don’t go spreading it around, okay?” 

“Aww, Ricky and Kate,” Ryan trills. “So cute together.” Kate scrambles for the cell phone again and Castle barely manages to keep out out of her grasp—by knocking it off the bed. He crashes down after it and successfully switches it from speakerphone once more. “Is everything okay? I thought I just heard something fall.” 

It takes Castle a moment to get air back into his lungs. “Real mature, Ryan.” 

“Yeah, well, at least Beckett didn’t hear me say that,” Ryan says casually. “She would KILL me. But no, immature would have been: ‘Rick and Kate, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I...’” From the vengeful look in Kate’s eye, she can hear just as well what’s being said whether it’s pressed to his ear or not. 

“Uh, uh, I gotta go,” Castle stammers, edging away from Kate and towards the bedroom door. His foot catches on the mussed sheets that are hanging off the bed and he lands on the floor. “Not cool, Ryan,” he hisses. Kate steps smartly over him and plucks the phone from his slack hand. 

“Hey, Ryan,” she says, all sweet and demure. Too sweet. If he ever heard Kate speaking in that tone to him, he’d be running away as fast as he could go. 

“Uh…uh…” Castle can almost imagine Ryan’s mouth opening and closing like a fish. He thinks he can hear the squeaky wheels of Esposito’s chair hastily rolling as far away as he can so he can claim plausible deniability about everything but the first few sentences. Kate clicks the end button and tosses the phone away, tilting her head back with a sigh. Castle slowly picks himself up from the floor as she walks to the edge of the bed and face plants into it. 

“What are we gonna do, Castle?” comes her muffled voice. 

“I don’t know,” he offers. 

She flips onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. He rejoins her on the bed again, though neither moves to regain the covers. “Nice job with the keeping it under wraps, by the way.” 

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me in public,” he replies quickly. 

“Oh, are you sorry I kissed you?” she asks. He can tell it’s not a serious question, but he feels inclined to answer it anyway. 

“Never.” 

“Mmm,” she smiles. “Well, I guess if they know, they know. Nothing we can do about it now. Except leave them hanging, of course.” 

“Yes, well done with that,” Castle agrees. 

“Just hanging up on them is much more effective than chewing them out,” Kate shrugs. “Besides, what would I say? How dare you look in our direction when we kiss even though you didn’t know we were going to be there anyway?” 

“How about, ‘don’t torment my boyfriend’?” 

“Oh, so you’re my boyfriend now?” 

“Well, if you don’t like that, we could just call me your lover…” he suggests, waggling his eyebrows at her. 

She laughs. “We are not calling you that. Why do you feel the need to label everything, Castle?” 

“I’m a writer. We use words a lot. And when there isn’t a word to describe what we’re trying to say, we make one up and trust the readers are too lazy to actually look it up in a dictionary.” 

That earns another laugh, a sound he could listen to forever. “Well then, Mr. Writer, why don’t you make up a title for yourself?” 

“Ooh, yeah, I like that,” Castle says. “I could be your...amorparasiempre!” She scoffs. “You did not make that up. And no.”

“I did! It’s all one word, amorparasiempre!”

“Try again.” 

They are silent for another few minutes. Then: “This might take a while. I’m going to make coffee while I keep thinking.” 

“I’m going to hit the shower,” Kate replies with a roll of her eyes. “Unless you want to j—“ 

“Yes,” Castle says before he can stop himself. 

“—join me for a walk first?” Kate finishes. She raises an eyebrow at him, a smirk peaking the corners of her mouth slightly. 

Castle blinks. Twice. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” he covers. 

“Mmm-hmm, sure it was,” Kate hums, walking past him out the bedroom door. “Come on, Castle.” 

Chapter Text

“Castle, are you sure you don’t want to go down and meet her?” Kate frowns. “She’s coming home from Europe; you haven’t seen her in weeks!” 

“No, it’s fine,” Castle protests vigorously. “Like I said, I called her yesterday and we talked about it. She was perfectly okay with me just getting together with her on Monday when we come in for your appointment at the hospital.” 

“Yes, but is that what she said or what she actually thought?” Castle just looks at her, utterly confused. “What?” 

“Castle, teenage daughters don’t often just say what they actually want to. They tell you what they think you want to hear in an act of generosity.” 

“So...” Castle says slowly, his eyebrows scrunching together in concentration, “you’re saying Alexis is just telling me she doesn’t need me to greet her at the loft when she secretly actually wants me to but she doesn’t want me to have to choose between her and you and so she’s taking the high road to make it easy for me so I don’t have to choose regardless of the fact she really would love for me to surprise her there?” 

Kate blinks several times trying to parse that sentence. “Yes. Yes, exactly. I think. Come on, there’s only a few hours left until their flight lands.” 

Castle narrows his eyes at her, and Kate knows he can see right through her. “Kate, why are you so anxious to go down and meet her? She’s okay with this, she said she’ll be majorly jet-lagged anyway, so why are you pushing it?” 

Kate sighs, looking down at her nearly empty plate. “I’m sorry, Castle, but I just...I don’t want to come between you and Alexis. Ever. I think you should be there when she returns home.” 

Castle smiles. “Fine, I understand. I’ll get the keys; you get your coat. Oh, and grab my phone from our bedroom, will you? I’ll bus the plates.” Kate smiles back, shaking her head slightly as she leaves the room. Castle’s been taking every chance he gets to call it ‘our bedroom’ since five days ago, when she kissed him on the bottom step of the morgue stairs. 

Honestly, she still can’t believe that happened, that Lanie talked her into that. But she’s so glad she did. 

She meets Castle by the door, handing him his phone. She gingerly pulls on her coat, careful not to strain the sore area in her chest. The pain has diminished greatly—she can get by on one pill in the morning now, and wouldn’t even be taking that if it wasn’t for Castle’s hawk-eyed-ness—but complex arm movement is still iffy. Funny, she never thought of getting a coat on as ‘complex arm movement’ before this. 

Castle locks the door behind them and gets into the driver’s seat. Kate wishes she could drive, but not until she’s off the medications. There are a lot of things she wishes she could do. Namely, her job. Drink caffeinated coffee. Go on runs. Not have this constant itch from the bandages taped to her chest. Sleep the night through. 

But she doesn’t complain. Not anymore. 

About ten minutes out from reaching New York City, Castle’s cell phone buzzes. He takes it out of his pocket and hands it to Kate, keeping his eyes firmly planted on the road. “Can you answer that for me?” 

“Sure.” Kate puts it on speakerphone and holds it in her hand. “It’s Alexis.” 

“Hey, pumpkin, what’s up?” Castle asks. “We’re on our way down to surprise you.” 

Alexis sounds upset. “Dad, can you pick me up at the airport?” 

“Yeah, sure, of course,” Castle replies in a concerned voice. “I thought Meredith was dropping you off at home?” He spins the wheel hand-over-hand to make the necessary turn. 

“She left,” Alexis says, distinctly hurt. “She booked her flight to L.A. to leave ten minutes after our plane landed. I guess she didn’t realize all the money I’ve got only amounts to only a few dollars, and it’s in Euros.” 

“I’m coming, sweetie,” Castle says. “Hang tight; we’ll be there in twenty.” 

“Thanks, Dad.” 

Castle swears as soon as the phone clicks off, and for a moment Kate is afraid he’ll swerve into the next lane in his rage. “What was she thinking, Kate? What was she thinking? Meredith just left her there, all alone, in an international airport!” 

Kate shakes her head. “I don’t know, Castle.” 

“She didn’t arrange for anyone to pick her up; she’s lucky we were heading down there anyway! I am never, ever letting that woman within fifty miles of Alexis ever again! I have full custody; it’s perfectly in my rights!” He executes a wide left turn and Kate finds her fingernails digging into the seat. 

“Castle, you’re absolutely right. Meredith was completely irresponsible, and you’re correct that her parental privileges should be revisited. But perhaps…slow down…a little?” 

“I want to get there as fast as possible.”

“I know, but getting pulled over for doubling the speed limit isn’t going to get us there any faster.” 

His jaw clenches, but he takes his foot off the gas. “I just…I just don’t understand. Why Meredith acts like this, all the time, every time. No regard for anyone but herself. Did you know she told me she was pregnant with Alexis five minutes before boarding a flight to Los Angeles? Yeah, she was up for the lead role in this movie that was supposedly set for a $37 million in opening weekend box office sales, so she just…took off.” 

Kate is mildly impressed with the audacity of this woman, if nothing else. “Did she get the part?” 

“No, she was cast as the crazy, psychotic sister-in-law instead and met the director she would eventually cheat on me with.” 

“Ouch. For both of you.” 

“And again, when she slept with him. When instead of trying to talk it out with me for the sake of our daughter she up and left, choosing to move clear across the continent rather than deal with us. Every time she promised she’d call, and didn’t, and every time she promised she’d visit and never showed up. Oh, she had her excuses—nighttime shooting, her friends had dragged her to a bar and gotten her so drunk she lost track of the time—but I know the real reason. The real reason is that staying away was easier than telling five or six year-old Alexis her career meant more to her than her little girl. So I was the one explaining to Alexis that Meredith still loved her, although I wasn’t even sure myself. Unconditional, protective, motherly love is something that I’ve long suspected is foreign to Meredith.” 

Castle parks in the airport parking in silence, fuming, but with his rant over and done. “Are you sure you don’t want to just wait here? We’re parked kinda far out.” 

“I’m fine,” she assures him, tugging her coat more firmly around her thin frame. Somehow their hands find each other, hers gloved and his bare to the cool evening air. It’s a bit muggy, and by the time they reach the buildings Kate’s finding that the extra effort it takes to draw a full breath isn’t so inconsequential when she has a still-healing bullet hole over her heart. 

Alexis is sitting on the bench outside the building, obscured every once in a while as a taxi whizzes by or slows to a stop to pick up or drop off passengers. She stands at the sight of Castle and Kate, and to Kate’s relief and slight bewilderment she doesn’t look nearly as distraught as her voice made her out to be over the phone. Unconsciously, hers and Castle’s hands slip apart as they draw near. 

Alexis waves in greeting and picks up her stuffed-to-the-gills duffel bag from the ground next to the bench. Castle envelops her in a hug. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” 

“It’s okay, Dad,” she says. “I’m used to it.” To Kate’s surprise, Castle doesn’t jump on that to insult Meredith’s parenting some more. A moment later she realizes that it’s for Alexis’s sake. No matter how neglectful, Meredith is still her mother, and both Castle and Alexis have to live with that. “Besides, she said it was good practice for when I’m flying there and back to Stanford. I’m almost eighteen anyway.” Castle doesn’t look nearly as at peace with that statement as Alexis does, but it’s obvious the teenager just wants to move past it. Alexis nods her greetings to Kate. “Hey, Detective Beckett,” she half-smiles. Kate doesn’t miss the quick look up and down that the teen gives her, but can’t blame her. Castle loops his arm around Alexis’s shoulders. 

“Home?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

Alexis opens the side door of the car and stuffs her duffel bag inside, climbing in after it and buckling her seat belt. He and Kate reach the car on their respective sides and get in as well, and soon enough they’re wading through New York City’s evening traffic. Castle feels compelled to break the silence. “How was Europe?” 

“It was fun,” Alexis yawns. “It’ll be good to be home, though.” They spend most of the trip to the loft with Alexis talking about her trip and Kate mute beside him. Castle wonders what she’s thinking, but now is not the time to ask. 

“So what was your favorite city?”

“J’ai adoré Paris. C’est une très belle ville. Avez-vous visité?” Alexis says fluidly. 

It takes Castle a minute to translate that in his head and formulate a response. “Oui, et je voudrais y retourner un jour.” 

Alexis, thankfully, switches back to English. “We should go there together sometime then,” she says. “Mom showed me the cutest little shops and bakeries; you would love it.” 

“What about you, Kate?” Castle asks, attempting to bring her into the conversation. He has the feeling Kate’s been following along with one ear, the rest of her focused on something else. 

“My parents and I went there one summer,” she replies. “You’re right, Alexis, it is beautiful.” Then she lets the conversation continue on without her. 

When they step out of the elevator at Castle’s building, Kate’s hand forestalls him. “I want to tell her everything,” Kate whispers. 

“Okay,” Castle gives her an encouraging smile. “About…about us too?” Kate nods. They catch up with Alexis at the door like nothing has happened and enter the loft. “Right now?” Castle mouths to Kate, but Alexis kisses him on the cheek before he can finish. 

“Thanks for the ride. I’m exhausted, so goodnight, Dad!” She smiles at Kate. “Goodnight, Detective Beckett!” She scurries up to her bedroom and they can hear the click of the door closing behind her. 

Castle shrugs. “Tomorrow, then.” He looks at Kate. “You don’t mind sleeping here, do you?” 

“No, of course not.” Satisfied, Castle turns and heads for his bedroom. It’ll be nice to sleep in his own bed for once. “You coming?” 

“Are you sure? What if Alexis… That’s not how I would want her to find out about us.” 

Castle smiles. “She won’t come in. Only Mother does that, and she’s out tonight. Alexis doesn’t without knocking and receiving permission, not since...” He trails off. “Never mind.” 

Kate gives him a suspicious look but follows him into his bedroom and perches on the edge of his bed.

Covers pulled up to her chest and hands clasped flat over her stomach, Kate gazes up at the ceiling. She’s too wired to fall asleep, thinking about what she’s going to say to Alexis tomorrow. She had wanted to get this over with tonight, but intense jet-lag had made scraps out of that plan. 

For a second—just a second—Kate wishes Castle didn’t have so much baggage with him. It would make all this so much simpler if there wasn’t a child to contend with. But then again, Alexis is sweet and rational and Castle simply adores her. Kate likes her too. Responsible, unlike her dad. Castle wouldn’t be the same if he’d never had Alexis, and she’s in love with him for who he is now. Do children make that much of an impact on their parents? She’s inclined to think so. And now she feels guilty for wishing Alexis didn’t exist. “Castle,” she whispers into the darkness. Nothing. He’s asleep, and she should be too. 

But it takes hours for her to doze off, and it feels as if she’s only been out for five minutes when Castle extricates himself from the bed in the morning. He’s trying his hardest to be quiet, but her tight muscles and cop alertness—active especially now with a combination of PTSD, being back in the city only ten miles from where she was shot, and sleeping in an unfamiliar bedroom—wake her as soon as his weight shifts from the mattress to the floor. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, but it’s too late now. Adrenaline surges back into her limbs as she remembers her self- appointed task for the day. She finds she has to remind herself why she’s doing this, and even that doesn’t prevent the slowly rising panic from deep within her. “I’ll make coffee,” Castle offers, and exits the room without a reply. 

Kate’s hands clench around the bedspread as she runs through it all in her head. His relationship with his daughter comes first. Why? Because it’s the one Alexis can’t afford to lose. You know that. But do I really have to tell her everything? Remember what happened with you and your dad? Are you willing to risk Castle’s relationship with his daughter? You of all people should recognize the importance of the father- daughter relationship. He’s her rock. You don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, or she might go through what you did. 

Resolve fortified as much as it ever will be, Kate follows Castle’s footsteps out in the kitchen area, knowing if she’s absent too long Castle will come to check on her. Alexis comes bounding down the steps a few seconds later. “I thought I smelled coffee.” 

“Your nose is as acutely attuned as ever, m’lady,” Castle says with a formal bow. He presents her with a fruit platter that he’s cut over the last few minutes. Alexis takes a slice and places it at the other end of the counter near the stools. She glances back at Kate as she takes a seat, tilting her head slightly to keep her fiery red hair out of the fruit. 

“Come on,” she invites with a jerk of her head. Kate accepts a place at the counter next to her, surreptitiously clenching her hands together with nervousness. Alexis offers her the fruit but Kate declines. 

“So, listen, Alexis,” Kate plunges in, “there’re some things that I have to tell you, that your dad and I have to tell you.” 

The teenager’s forehead creases, but she looks at Kate evenly. “I told Dad it was okay,” she says, glancing at him for confirmation. “What you’re going through is private, and I understand that. You don’t have to tell me anything.” She finishes with a friendly smile. 

“Still, I want to,” Kate replies. Castle gives her an encouraging nod. “I’m taking up a lot of your dad’s time, time he could be spending with you before you go off to college. You deserve to know why.” Sensing she can’t argue with her, Alexis stays silent, watchful, waiting. Kate swallows. “After I was…shot, I started having flashbacks. Nightmares. Back to that cemetery, that bullet, dying…even my mom’s death, and the deaths of other people I care about.” 

“Like PTSD,” Alexis says, eyes bright. She seems to be taking this well, although Kate can’t think of a reason why she wouldn’t. 

“Yes,” Kate affirms. “Your dad’s been helping me through it. That’s why we’ve been living in my dad’s cabin up north, to get away from the city where it all happened. There are triggers here, that…” Kate searches for the word. “…spark the flashbacks. I can’t control them, but I need to learn how to. I’ll need to learn before they’ll give me my badge back.” 

Alexis waits for a few seconds to make sure she’s not going to interrupt the Detective. “I understand. It must be really hard for you.” 

Kate nods and smiles slightly, relieved at that reaction. “Thanks. I’m glad you understand. Oh, and one more thing. I know you haven’t been gone that long, but your dad and I...well, I guess you could say we started a relationship while you were away. We’re taking it slow, but I hope that’s okay with y—“ 

“I kind of guessed,” Alexis shrugs ruefully, cutting in. “He calls you Kate. And from my experience, no woman can spend more than twelve hours in his company without ending up with him. You were always the exception, but now...” Alexis laughs, shrugging her shoulders slightly. 

“You’re okay with that?” Kate asks.

“Yeah. You make him happy,” Alexis smiles. 

“He makes me happy as well,” Kate replies in an undertone. “You can call me ‘Kate’ too. ‘Detective Beckett’ is a little too formal.” Alexis nods. 

Beaming, Castle places steaming cups in front of the pair of them, unabashedly interrupting their heart to heart. “Who wants waffles?” 

Chapter Text

Kate smiles, mind racing. “I accuse Miss Scarlet, with the candlestick, in the dining room,” she says. 

Castle stares shrewdly at her. “You sure?” 

“Of course.” Kate deftly lifts the packet of cards from the “cellar” in the center of the board. She flips it upside down, dropping the contents into her hand. Dining room, Scarlet, candlestick, just like she predicted. Or deduced, depending how you look at it. She lays the cards out for all to see. 

“Wow,” Alexis says, impressed. “That’s our third game of Clue, and you won all three. So that brings the total scores up to…” She consults her piece of scratch paper. “Dad, 183, Kate, 171, and my lowly 140. Just speed- round Monopoly left, Kate, for you to get the points to beat him in.” 

“Speed round Monopoly?” 

“We developed it when Alexis was little,” Castle explains as he scoops up all the Clue cards to put back in the box. “She got bored after more than an hour of the same game, so we made up a few rules.” 

“Such as?” 

“Every round there’s a stock market rise or crash,” Castle says. “Roll the dice; if the number’s seven or above you get twenty percent of your cash on hand, if it’s below two of your properties are foreclosed on or you pay $350 to keep them open. The other one is that whoever owns Water Works or the Electric Company collects fees each round based on the number of properties, houses, and hotels you have. You know, to make it more realistic. You pay $100 per hotel, $30 per house, and $20 per property cumulatively.” 

“And my friends in elementary school wondered why my times tables were so fast,” Alexis rolls her eyes. 

Kate laughs. “Okay, I think I got it. You guys play to bankruptcy, right?” 

“Of course!” Castle exclaims. “So at the end, we’ll count up the money we have left—well, one of us will have none, but everyone else—and translate that into points for our overall scores. One point per $50.” 

Kate nods. “Let’s do this.” 

“Last game in our ten-game tournament,” Alexis agrees. “Your first SkipBo, Go Fish, Rummikub, Sorry, Risk, Life, Jenga, Careers, Clue, and Monopoly tournament.” 

“Do all of the games played in the Castle household last this long?” Kate asks incredulously. 

“Yeah,” Alexis smiles. “It’s a family thing. We play laser tag to a thousand points—not in one go, obviously —and Mario Kart is five sets of five races each.” 

Castle nods. “For that one it ends up being a contest of whose thumb holds out the longest pressing that gas button.” 

Kate and Alexis get off to rocky starts, but by the end Castle’s the one nervous every turn, fingering his two remaining bills as he stares at the daunting line of houses in the next stretch. Kate’s really liking the stock market idea, mostly because it’s cost Castle more than $2000 over the course of the game. 

“Your turn,” she nudges him. He picks up the dice shakily, sending them skittering across the board. He moves his piece three and Alexis holds out her hand. 

“Rent, $42.” Castle reluctantly places his $50 bill in her palm and receives eight ones in return, leaving him a grand total of two unrelated properties, a railroad, and $28. Kate goes, and then Alexis does. The stock market crashes, but Kate doesn’t mind. Castle’s turn again. 

He rolls a two, lands on Chance, and nearly turns pale when she reads him the card. Advance to Boardwalk. Her red plastic hotel glares sinisterly at him. “Bankrupt,” he says, handing her his remaining money and properties. 

“We win!” Alexis says joyfully. When they tally up their points, Castle’s teenage daughter ends up with the highest score. 

“I should’ve warned you she was a Monopoly mastermind,” Castle says ruefully. He doesn’t seem to mind being beaten, although perhaps that’s because he expected it. “I keep telling her she should major in business at Stanford, but she says economics are Ashley’s thing, not hers.” 

Once they’re done cleaning up, Castle and Kate decide it’s time to leave. “Give our best to Gram when she gets back,” Castle tells his daughter. She nods. “And no boys over when no one’s home.” 

“Dad, for one it wouldn’t be ‘boys’. Just Ashley. And two, if you wanted to implement that rule, you should’ve done it a long time ago,” she smiles. 

“I did, you just didn’t listen,” he argues. 

“Yes, well…fine. If you’re saying you don’t trust me enough to have a boy over when you aren’t in the near vicinity, then okay: I won’t. But your mistrust wounds me.” 

Castle rolls his eyes. “What are your plans with Ashley?” 

She shrugs. “We were going to hit the pool, I think. It’s really warm today.” 

He gives her a hug. “Sounds fine. Talk to you later, pumpkin.” 

“Bye, Dad,” she returns the gesture. “Bye, Kate!” 

“Bye!” After one last look behind her, Kate steps out into the hallway outside the loft. Castle joins her and Alexis closes and locks the door behind him. “That was fun,” Kate smiles. “It was like being a kid again.” 

“That’s what’s great about having kids,” Castle agrees, “They make you feel like one again.” 

“Someday,” Kate says, leaning her head against his shoulder.

He looks down at her curiously. “You want kids?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” 

“What about your job and everything?” 

She shakes her head. “Castle, this is a discussion for another time.” She doesn’t have to say anything more before he falls silent. Having kids, to her, at least, is something she’s always wanted to do but never found the right guy, or the right time. Maybe Castle will be that right guy, but right now thinking about it just stresses her out. Taking it slow, remember? 

“I want to stop by my apartment, please. Some stuff I want to drop off and pick up.” 

When they arrive, everything’s dark, but Castle starts opening blinds and soon there’s daylight everywhere. Trusting the man-child in him to find something to occupy himself with—knowing Castle, probably something she’d never want him looking at in a million years—she goes into her room and takes a box down from the closet. She takes a deep breath before lifting the lid and removing the folded letter from her coat pocket. It’s much too hot to wear the coat, but she’d insisted on bringing it in with her for this reason. She’s not comfortable sharing these letters with Castle yet, and perhaps she never will be. It’s a part of her that’s always been…hers alone. 

She lifts the stack of previously written letters out of the box to put the newest one on the bottom and finds herself reading her handwriting from ten years ago, no matter how much she doesn’t want to. They stir memories she doesn’t want to dive into right now, but she can’t tear her eyes away. 

January 9, 1999 

Dear Mom, 

They say you’re gone, but I keep expecting you to walk through that door. I think Dad does too, because he keeps turning at every noise and looking at it. 

I’m sitting on your bed writing this letter to you because Dad and Detective Raglan are still talking in the living room. I had to leave; I couldn’t stay in their company while the police explained the details of your death. Someday I’ll want them, need them, but not right now. I keep thinking they’ve made a mistake, that it’s not really you they’ve found. I keep thinking I’ll see you tonight, and if not tonight, tomorrow. This feels like one of your business trips when your flight home has been delayed. If I just fall asleep, no more than a second will pass before you touch my cheek, waking me so I can welcome you home. 

But if it is real, if you really are gone, then I don’t know what I will do. You were always there for me, Mom, whenever I needed you. Now I need you more than ever and you’re gone. You and Dad are all I know. I thought you would always be here to come back to, forever. I guess I was wrong. 

I can’t believe that just two weeks ago we were all staying in the cabin in the woods together, eating ham and cookies and other Christmas foods. The decorations are still up, but no one seems to care. They look lonely to me. Abandoned. 

Mom, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t have more time together. I’m sorry I spent that semester in Kiev and missed your birthday and Easter and planting season last year. I’m sorry I chose a school so far away. I’m sorry I didn’t make time to talk with you on the phone last weekend. I would give anything for us to have a conversation now. I’m so sorry, Mom. 

Please come back. I know it’s impossible, but please try. I’m not ready for you to leave me. I’m not ready to say goodbye. 

Love, 
Kate 

Her hand is pressed to her mouth, and tears threaten to emerge. The raw emotion contained in the rough letter is almost overpowering, especially because she remembers writing it so vividly. It takes her back to that day. That awful, awful day. 

“I guess we should start without her,” her father said, closing his menu. The restaurant was swamped, and, knowing that, they had picked up their menus on the way to their seats. The pair didn’t even have water yet. “You know what you want, Katie?” 

“Yeah, Dad,” she replied.

“Okay, I’ll order for your mom. She probably just got caught up at work. She’s been really into that case she’s been working on for weeks now.”

Kate nodded her agreement. 

“Hi, welcome to Angie’s. I’m Penny, and I’ll be your waitress today. Any drinks to start?” the cheery blonde asked. 

“Just waters, thanks,” Jim replied. “We’re ready to order, actually.” 

“Perfect!” Penny held out her notepad, pen at the ready. “What can I get you?” 

“I’ll have the eight ounce ribeye with garlic mashed potatoes and home-style green beans,” he requested. “We’re still waiting on my wife, but she should be here soon. She’ll have the small chicken pot pie.” 

“And I’ll have the steak as well,” Kate smiled. 

“Okay! I’ll get that to you as soon as possible,” the waitress said, collecting their menus. 

Two hours later, both their plates were scraped clean and Johanna still hadn’t arrived. Jim checked his watch nervously. “I guess we should just take this to go,” he said, indicating the untouched pot pie. He informed the waitress and she returned with a large Styrofoam container and a paper bag. Kate and Jim exited the restaurant together, and goosebumps appeared on Kate’s arms as a chill wind swept through the street. 

There was just a bit of snow on the ground, just enough to create sludge and make the roads dangerous without the pretty white crystalline look. In the car, Kate tried her mom’s cell for the fifth time that night, but there was no answer. 

“She’s just working,” Jim repeated, as much to himself as his daughter. They arrived home a few minutes later. 

“That’s odd,” Kate commented, pointing to the police car out front. “Usually don’t see those much around here.” 

“Katie,” Jim said as a warning. She looked up to see a man standing at their door. “Can I help you?” Jim asked. 

“Are you Jim Beckett?” the man asked, holding up his badge. “Detective Raglan, NYPD.” 

“Yes, I am. What’s this regarding?”

“Perhaps this would be a conversation better suited for inside,” the detective suggested. 

“What’s going on?” her father demanded. Kate’s heart pounded in her chest. 

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but they found your wife’s body earlier this afternoon in Washington Heights.” 

“Her…her body?” Kate’s voice cracked. Her mind whirled. 

Jim just stared at the detective for a moment and then unlocked the door. “You’d better come in.” 

The memory fades much like a flashback—that is, kicking and screaming, leaving her panting and in tears. It’s hard to decide which hurts more—the day they found Detective Raglan on their doorstep or the day she was forced to say her final goodbyes. The day they laid her in the ground. 

She remembers vividly that it rained hard that morning, but only for a few minutes. She remembers the iciness on her skin when she stepped outside the door before she was pulled back inside by her father’s gentle hand with an admonishment not to get her black dress wet. That was the first time he’d said anything of consequence besides making funeral arrangements in days. 

She remembers the car ride to the church and the Mass celebrating her mother’s life. How she and Jim were the first ones to arrive and just sat in the front pew staring blankly at the altar. The quiet brushes and pats of hands as people trickled in meant to be comforting but really weren’t. The rrrr-rrrr sound the wheels of the casket carriage made on the tile floor of the central aisle. The white cloth embroidered with red that the two men in suits laid over the lacquered wooden casket during the service. 

She remembers Father Vince presiding in a somber voice, Aunt Theresa and Uncle Roscoe doing the readings, and Aunt Lucy, her mother’s younger sister, extolling her mother’s virtues at the pulpit between gulps. She remembers almost choking on the Communion host, only making it back to her seat because of her father’s guiding hand placed gently on her back. She remembers the familiar songs that she found her throat too thick to sing with everyone else. 

Her recollection the ride to the cemetery is fuzzy, but everything after that is crystal clear as well. She remembers exiting the car and nearly tripping into a patch of mud because her eyes were too glazed over with tears. Being transfixed by the hole in the ground that she stared into as the two pallbearers placed the casket on the surface next to it. “I’ll be right back, Katie,” she dimly recalls Jim saying before he left to check on the status of the missing white flowers that were supposed to adorn the area. She remembers the silky feel of the casket lid as she touched it, and then was possessed with the need to open it. Maybe her mother wasn’t really in there, wasn’t really dead. Jim had refused to let her accompany him to the morgue to ID the body, and Kate had always been one to find her own answers. The men in suits were attending to the hearse. Nobody was watching. 

Kate remembers flipping the flimsy gold latch on the side of the casket and quickly lifting the lid a few inches upward. She remembers first seeing the miniature Bible clasped in lifeless hands over her mother’s stomach, along with her favorite fountain pen she reserved for signing important documents. Her eyes had moved forward of their own accord to come to Johanna’s pale face. And in that moment, realizing the eternal truth of it and dropping the casket lid hard. Her father coming up to her and asking, “Are they arriving early? I thought I heard a car door slam,” and Kate shaking her head mutely, flipping the latch back into position behind her back. Jim nodded and left her there to talk to the men in suits. She remembers as soon as he turned away falling to her knees and kneeling on the wet ground in front of her mother’s body with her dress hiked up around her thighs. Staying like that until her father came back and put a hand on her shoulder, startling her so much she fell backwards into the mud and soiled the back of her dress. Going home to change while there was still time before people arrived. Watching the procession of black cars and then those of friends and family arrive and receiving countless condolences but not even a mention of the fact that she changed clothes. 

She’d attended funerals before, but none of them were like this. None of them so sudden. And none of them had been for her mother. She remembers standing in an awkward, silent circle with her cousins, knowing that while she’s a mess, none of them have shed more than a couple tears and are probably more uncomfortable with the situation than she was. 

And finally, everyone gathering for Father Vince’s final blessing. The casket being lowered into the grave. Whispering, “Goodbye, Mom,” tossing her white rose on top of the casket, and stepping stiffly aside for her father to say his farewell. She remembers the pallbearers placing the tombstone for all to see in the pile of dirt still to be shoveled back into the grave. 

BECKETT

JOHANNA BECKETT 

—o— 

VINCIT OMNIA VERITAS 

FEBRUARY 4TH 1951 
 —o— 
JANUARY 9TH 1999 

She remembers crashing into her father’s chest, sobbing. And finally, his “Let’s get out of here, Katie.” 

Kate returns to the real world like waking from a long sleep. Her face is streaked with tears, and her chest aches with a pain that for once has nothing to do with her bullet wound. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hands and closes the box of letters never to be sent. Then she goes into the bathroom and splashes some water on her face. When she exits, it’s like she was never crying at all. She walks back out into the living room. “Let’s go, Castle.” 

Chapter Text

“So, I was thinking, we’re coming up on the one month mark,” Kate says as Castle pours the coffee. 

“Don’t tell me you want to make a day out of the anniversary of your shooting,” Castle says. Kate doesn’t even merit him an answer, just her patented glare. A bit more hostile than the Beckett-glare, actually. He really needs to watch what he says. 

“I was thinking that I want to start working on the other half of my recovery.” Other half? As in, PTSD half? He’s surprised she’s even willing to admit there is another half. 

“You want to see a psychologist?” he asks. 

“No, of course not. I don’t need anything as dramatic as that. No, I was thinking we should move back to the city.” She looks at him expectantly, eagerly. 

“But Kate, it’s peaceful up here. That’s the whole reason we came.”

“Maybe too peaceful. Maybe I need to be shocked a bit, get used to everyday life back home.” Ah, there it is. 

She would only admit she has a problem because she’s about to dive headlong into tackling it. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Are you saying I can’t handle it?”

“No, of course not. It’s just…last time—“ 

 Her eyes flash dangerously. “Yes, I know perfectly well what happened last time.”

“That’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is that moving back to the city is a big leap. Why don’t we start slower?” He’s anxious, waiting for a response. Her expression is unreadable. 

“What do you have in mind?” she says neutrally, finally. He’s glad she’s not rejecting the idea out of hand. 

“Well, are there any towns around here we could spend the day in? You know, look at shops, get a bite to eat…something low-key.” 

“There is a quaint little town a few miles from here…it’s really a section of a larger city, but there’s this entire area of little stands and even this cute marketplace…” she considers. Castle hopes she’ll say yes. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go back to New York City. It’s not even a matter of trust. He just doesn’t… doesn’t want to lose her again. He doesn’t want to have to find her hiding in the tunnels below the Old Haunt again. And if he’s completely honest…well, he likes having her all to himself. If they go back, he has to share her with everyone else again—Lanie, the boys. He knows it’s selfish of him, but he kind of just wants to keep her…his. For a little while longer. 

“Fine. We’ll go to Old Town on Tuesday.”

“It’s a date,” he smiles. She gives him an odd look. “You…you know what I mean.” 

“Castle, wake up.” Something pokes him in the shoulder. His brain is muddled, sleepy. “Castle, come on.” He grunts something unintelligible, trying to maintain his sleep-state. Words take too much effort, and the last thing he wants to do is wake up fully. Besides, from the minute crack in his eyelids, he can see it’s still dark out. Yellow light floods his vision and blinds him as she turns the room light on. He pulls his pillow over his head in vain, but his mind has started turning. “Castle, come on, get up.” 

“Mmmgh,” he mumbles into the thick fluffy thing. 

“I’m taking my shirt off.” 

His eyes don’t open, but before he can stop himself: “Really?” 

“No.” She pulls the pillow away from him and tosses it to the other side of the bed. Kate, sadly, is fully clothed. “Come on, Old Town today. You said you were going to get up early.” 

“I said maybe. And I definitely didn’t mean while it was still dark out.”

“The donut place opens at six. If we want them fresh, we have to be there by then.” 

“Mmph. Still, I don’t believe this was the best way to get me up.” 

She leans over and kisses him. “Better?” 

“Much.” He sits up and swings his legs out of the bed. “Okay, okay, I’m coming. I’ll shower and meet you out there in ten.” 

“Good.” She gives him another peck on the lips and disappears out the door. As soon as it closes, he falls back onto the bed with a fwump! “I heard that,” she calls through the door. Crap. 

“Just making the bed,” he lies, pulling himself up once more and hobbling towards the bathroom. He rubs his bleary eyes and looks at the clock. Five in the morning. Well, that’s what he gets for living with a cop. Or just Kate Beckett in general. 

After a quick shower, he goes out to find a small breakfast waiting for him on the table. He wolfs it down under her watchful and impatient eye, sets their dishes in the sink, and grabs the car keys. He wonders briefly if she will want to drive, trying to decide if he should let her or not. The sensible answer is no, but she’s been acting so…normal, lately… 

Luckily she doesn’t make him choose, just goes to sit complacently on the passenger’s side. “Do you have the map?” he checks before starting the engine. She nods, unfolding it in her lap. 

“Here, look, this is where you’re going. Back out to the main road, straight for twenty or thirty miles, and then a right turn onto Pennington Way. That’ll take you straight to it.” 

Castle takes one last look at the map, criss-crossed with lines going every which way, and decides just the follow her instructions. The headlights blink into existence as he turns the key, illuminating the foliage in front of them. He looks over his shoulder while backing up, and then they’re on their way. 

Castle feels himself slowly waking up and the grogginess draining away throughout the ride, and when he pulls into the donut shop’s parking spot at exactly 5:58 he’s fully awake and even a little excited for the day. It’s just the two of them today, and, barring any unpleasant surprises, it should be very entertaining. He wants to see the things she grew up with, and this little olden-style section of town is one of those things. He wonders when the last time she came here was. 

They enter the shop together, hands painfully close but not touching. He knows he could, if he wanted to, and she wouldn’t mind—she’d probably even smile at him. But she needs her hands to point and choose donuts and to pay the cashier, so he keeps his at his sides. “Two of those,” Kate points at some delicious-looking glazed ones. “And two coffees.” Castle nudges her slightly. “One of them decaf,” she adds with a sigh. He hopes he didn’t just put a damper on the day by reminding her why they’re really here, what her real position in the world is. Injured. 

She seems able to move past it quickly though, and they exit the shop laughing. Kate chooses a place to sit and watch the streets slowly get busier, atop a wall that is high enough to let their legs dangle freely and feet occasionally intertwine. After that they move on into the market, a collection of stands selling everything from fruits to jams to jewelry. Despite her protests, Castle ends up buying her a pair of gorgeous earrings that leave her grinning and blushing slightly, something he’s never seen her do before. 

They’re eating their way through a bag of fresh cherries when Castle spots a cute little model train store and drags her inside. They visit yet another bakery, and window shop some more. 

“That’s the end of it,” Kate says finally, stopping on the the sidewalk. Up ahead, Castle can see a McDonald’s and a Taco Bell. 

“It really is,” he agrees with a sigh. They begin their trek back to the car. “So, what now?” Kate checks her phone. “It’s only two o’clock.” 

“How’re you feeling?” Castle asks. Though they’ve been out for hours, they’ve stopped often—not because she needed to, but to eat whatever delicacy they’d just picked up or to observe the passerby. Kate was right—this place is wonderful. 

“I’m good to go,” she says, and for once he doesn’t doubt her. She’s exhibiting none of the usual signs of tiredness—irritability, the hitch in her step as she walks, or the momentary looks of pain in her eyes that she tries her hardest to hide from him. “Hey, you know what? There’s a mall on the other side of town. Why don’t we head over there before going back to the cabin?” 

Castle considers it as they approach the car. Malls can be busy, and crowded, and loud… “Are you sure?” he asks. She nods eagerly. “Okay, but not for too long,” he concedes. She maps it on her phone and Siri directs him to the place. He parks in the crowded parking lot, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding he gets from seeing all these people. He and Kate get out of the car and shade their eyes as they start walking towards the main entrance. It’s really hot outside on the asphalt. 

“Hey, look, is that—Richard Castle!” someone with a very high-pitched voice and a giggle to match gasps from behind him. Out of instinct he turns, and Kate does warily as well. 

“Oh my God, it is!” squeals the other girl to her blonde friend. “Hi! We don’t want to disturb you, but could we get your autograph?” 

“Sure,” Castle pulls a pen from his pocket. “Where would you like it?” 

One of the girls proffers up her canvas tote bag and the other her hat. “It was so great meeting you; thank you so much!” the girls chime, nearly bubbling over with excitement. 

“Yeah, sure,” Castle flashes a smile at them. “Just don’t tell anyone or tweet anything about me being here with someone, okay?” 

“No problem,” the brunette trills. “Thanks again!” 

“Wow, you were really nice to them,” Kate says, falling back into step with him. 

“Yeah, well, if you’re a mean grouch you generally don’t build up the fan base I have,” Castle shrugs. 

From behind them, the blonde teenager leans towards her friend. “Why do you think he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s here with her?” 

The other replies in an undertone, “Maybe he’s cheating on his girlfriend.” 

“Just let them go, Castle,” Kate admonishes with a laugh, but he wouldn’t have done anything anyway. Fans will be fans, and the worst these two have done so far is leave him with an incredulous, indignant expression on his face. 

They enter the mall and are immediately buffeted by people, but once they manage to get through the first throng it opens up a little. Kate looks a little paler than she did before, but maybe it’s just the lights. 

And by the time he realizes it’s not just the lights, it’s too late. 

Castle doesn’t even know what set her off. He doesn’t know if it was a sound, a glimpse, a flashback. Just how she reacts. And it’s not pretty. 

He shoves her up against a wall, fighting for control. She’s a mess, flying fists and raining tears. The wild, panicked look in her eyes is most frightening, and as her fingernails scrabble against the back of his hand he knows she has no idea who he is. 

“Sir, just let us handle this,” the deep-voiced security guard in a uniform says. “What seems to be the problem here?” Castle hadn’t even noticed his approach, but then again, he’d been a little preoccupied. The crowd has recovered from their initial shock and confusion and has given the three of them a wide berth. “Sir, I need you to step back,” the guard/mall cop demands again. 

“Come on, Kate, come back to me,” Castle growls, pinning one of her hands against her stomach. “I believe in you! Come back.” Castle’s words are rewarded with a powerful shove away from her, followed by an intense kick to the chest that feels like being hit by a truck. At least she isn’t wearing heels, he reflects as he hits the ground with an oomph!, or he would have been stabbed through. 

At this the guard draws his weapon, and to Castle’s dismay it’s a gun. With all his strength he leaps up, knocking the gun down while simultaneously shouting, “Don’t, she’s a cop!” But it’s too late; Kate has seen the weapon, has reacted to it. Has frozen. For a moment Castle wonders whether this will cause her to flee or just break down, but it’s soon answered when she pushes through the small, gathered crowd of gawkers and into the throng. 

Between harried breaths, Castle explains in a few short sentences the situation to the guard. “She’s a cop, but she was shot a month ago. She’s dealing with some PTSD issues, so please don’t pull a gun on her. She won’t hurt anyone—just let me get her. I can calm her down.” Without waiting for a response, Castle races into the mass of people, calling her name ahead of him. “Kate! KATE!” 

He’s shoving people aside, but he doesn’t care. They’re on the second floor of the mall, and as long as none of them go careening over the edge of the platform they’ll be fine. That’s what the railing’s for. He just needs to get to her. Kate. 

He spots a flash of brown, wavy hair going through a door marked Authorized Personnel Only and speeds after her. It’s a service hallway, and his heart skips a beat when he pulls the door open and she’s not there. But then he turns and sees her, huddled in a small alcove where someone from the cleaning crew has stashed a bright yellow cart with various bottles of nauseatingly scented solutions stacked on top. 

“Kate!” he rushes to her and she flinches away, scrabbling against the wall, but when he takes her in his arms she collapses into him, shaking and bleeding tears profusely. He cradles her against him, whispering in her ear. “Kate, Kate, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of; I’m here. I’m here, Kate, I’m here. You’re okay.” 

Time has no meaning for either of them in this dank service hall, but Castle estimates it’s been at least fifteen minutes when at last she sits up on her own. “Thank you.” 

He nods, holding her still as he wipes away most of the smeared eye makeup from her cheeks. “Home?” 

She dips her head meekly and relies on his strength to pull her to her feet. They exit the mall as quickly as possible, his arm never leaving her shoulders and her hand clutched at his chest. “I’m sorry our day got shot to hell,” she says on the car ride home. He wonders if her word choice is intentional. 

“Don’t be,” he tells her. Dinner passes mostly in silence. He can’t discern what she’s thinking, and he doesn’t know what to say. 

Finally, in their bedroom that night, she speaks. “I want to be a cop again. I want to be like before.” 

He looks at her seriously, in the eyes. “You’ll get there, Kate. I promise.” 

“That’s not fast enough.” She purses her lips slightly and then opens them again, mind made up. “I want to see a psychologist.” 

Chapter Text

“Any luck?” Castle asks, taking a seat on the couch beside her. She’s staring at her laptop intently, brow still scrunched in her adorable I’m thinking expression. 

“No, not yet,” Kate replies, dragging her eyes away from the screen. “All the highly recommended psychologists live in big cities…nowhere around here. Even if we moved back to New York City, I don’t know how I’d choose. They’re all really expensive.” 

“Don’t worry about the money,” he tells her. The look she gives him tells him exactly how much she likes that idea. 

“My mind just keeps going back to the shrink I talked to before leaving the hospital,” she muses. 

“What was his name? Do you remember?”

“I remember it started with ‘Doctor.’”

Castle laughs. “Well, I can always call the hospital; I’m sure it’s in your file.” 

“I remember thinking his voice sounded like some actor’s I saw on TV, but I couldn’t place it,” she says ruefully. “Burke! That was it. I think.” Her fingers fly across the keyboard and she clicks a link. “Yes, that’s him.” Castle leans in to get a look at the picture. An African-American man with a kind expression under intense brown eyes. 

“Does he have his own practice, or do you have to go through the hospital?” Castle asks. 

Another few clicks and she answers, “His own, only twenty minutes away from my apartment.” 

“But we don’t live at your apartment.”

“We could.” 

“Kate...” he says it as a warning, softly. 

She looks down at her lap. “I know, but we can’t avoid it forever. As soon as I’m cleared by my surgeon, I am going to go through evaluations and get my badge and my gun back. I want to be as ready as I can be for that.” 

“I understand,” he nods. “But you do have a month at least until they’ll give you the thumbs up to return to work. It’s perfectly possible just to drive down to the city for your sessions, just like we do for the appointments at the hospital.” 

She sighs. “We’re not going to be able to agree on this, are we?” Without waiting for a response, she continues. “There’s a number here to call his office and set up an appointment. We can drive in for the first one, and I’ll ask his opinion on the matter. Okay?” 

“Okay,” he kisses her, reassuring her that the only reason he’s arguing is because he cares about her. His cell phone rings, and he reluctantly breaks their contact to pick it up from the table. “Alexis,” he says in explanation and exits the room to take the call. It isn’t Alexis. 

“Castle,” he answers it in the privacy of their room. 

“It’s me.” The very distinguishable voice of the Fox reverberates through the phone into the membranes of his ear. 

“What did you find?” Castle asks eagerly. He had mailed the changes to Gina the day after speaking with the Fox, with ‘For a friend’ as the entire explanation. “I did my part: Clark Mathis, just like you said. Blue-striped tie, gold watch, FF campaign pin. Just like your client, the politician, specified.” 

“I won’t be working on your virus any more,” the Fox informs him curtly. “Don’t contact me again.”

“Wait, what?” Castle says. “Why? We had a deal!” 

“Our deal was that I would examine the virus and get back to you. I have done so, and thus fulfilled the terms set.” 

“Why?” Castle asks desperately. “Why would you back out like this? I’ll…I’ll remove Mathis from the book if you don’t tell me what you found out about the virus!” 

“Do so if you wish, it does not matter anymore. My client has seen the proof of the changes you made to the manuscript through his own networks, and has signed on with me. I have need of you no longer, Mr. Castle. Do not contact me again.” The line clicks dead, leaving Castle just sitting on their bed, utterly lost. 

“Dr. Burke’s office, how may I help you?” says the receptionist on the other end. 

“Hello, I’d like to schedule a session with Dr. Burke?” Kate says into the phone. “Of course. He’s pretty booked. Is there a date or time you prefer?”

“Just as soon as possible, please. My name is Kate Beckett.” 

“Well, how soon could you get to our office? It looks like we have a two-hour opening today at 4:00 P.M. Another client of ours canceled last minute. Otherwise the next spot open is next Friday, nine days from now. That would be Friday, July first.” 

“No, I think I can make it to the four o’clock one,” Kate says. “Thank you.” 

“All right. Is this your first time visiting Dr. Burke?” 

“At his office, yes, but I saw him once before. He did the pre-release consultation with me at the hospital.” 

“Okay,” says the lady cheerily. “May I ask the nature of your session?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Oh, I just need to know if he’s going to have to sign any official papers, such as for a psych evaluation for a high-stress job or anything like that.” Oh. 

“Not this time, no, but maybe eventually,” Kate replies. 

“Okay, we’ll see you at four!” the woman says. Castle walks into the room with a slightly dazed expression on his face. 

“Make an appointment?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says, pressing her lips together slightly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” he smiles. “Are you nervous?”

“What’s there to be nervous about?” she says lightly.

“Nothing, I guess. I’m glad you’re not. It’s good.” He smiles that uncertain smile again. 

“I was lying; I don’t know how to this,” Kate says quickly in the car. “How the hell do you just walk into that room and spill all your deepest darkest secrets to a man you’ve just met? It’s impossible.” Castle is silent, and she knows it’s because he doesn’t have an answer for her. Maybe it’s easy for some people to just go inside and pour their hearts out, but not for her. Never has been, and never will be. This whole prospect goes so deeply against her nature. Why did she want to do this again? Right, to get her life back. 

It’s not that her job isn’t worth this momentary discomfort. If this is the price to get her badge back, she’ll pay it in a heartbeat, gladly. But it’s not a choice, not for her. It’s not as simple as just choosing to share or not. There’s a wall to be broken down, and nearly insurmountable fear to be gotten over. She’s spent ten years building that wall in silence, and all of a sudden she’s being asked to tear it down. It’s not that she refuses to, but she’s not sure she’s capable of it. What happens if she freezes up in there? If she runs out? Gets spooked by the man prying into her life? Does she run back to Castle with her tail tucked between her legs? 

She knows that her ability to talk to a psychologist has no bearing on how Castle feels about her. But if she can’t share all of this with a man who is sworn to secrecy, who she knows for certain is only there to help her, who makes a living out of coaxing deep, dark secrets out of people and thus must be very good at it, then how can she hope to share any of it with Castle? Sure, he’s the one she loves, but that only puts the stakes higher. That only makes her more afraid to show too much, to scare him off. Somewhere deep inside, she knows that if she can’t talk to Dr. Burke, she won’t ever be able to share all the stuff she needs to with Castle. All the stuff she wants to. 

The only thought running through her mind as they walk into the building together is that this Dr. Burke better be damn good at his job, or none of this is ever going to work out. 

“Kate Beckett, I have an appointment,” she says to the receptionist. She knows from her voice that it’s the same woman she talked to on the phone. Her nametag reads Kassandra, and she looks to be around Kate’s own age with short brown hair with a tint of red and bright blue eyes. 

“Just a couple papers for you to fill out before you go in,” Kassandra smiles, handing her a clipboard and a pen. 

“Isn’t it cheating when he has you filling out a questionnaire first?” Castle whispers as they step away from the desk. 

“They’re just medical and billing forms,” she replies, not in the mood for his antics. She studies them for a moment, but after all the forms she’d had to fill out or sign in the hospital, these are a piece of cake. She hands the completed clipboard back to the receptionist. 

“He’s ready for you, Miss Beckett,” the receptionist says after checking that all the lines are filled out. Kassandra looks at Castle. “You can have a seat right over there, Mr. Castle, if you’re planning on waiting.” The woman—who must be a fan of his to recognize him on sight, though she acts perfectly professional— turns back to Kate. “This way, please.” After one last shared glance with Castle, who gives her a reassuring nod, Kate follows the receptionist into the hallway. “Right here,” Kassandra smiles, opening a door to her left. “Dr. Burke, Miss Beckett.” 

“Thank you,” Kate murmurs, stepping inside. The room has a homey feel, with two large windows that let sunlight stream inside and give a view of the city outside. Dr. Burke is seated in one of two plush armchairs, looking as calm and relaxed as ever. He doesn’t seem to have any sort of note-taking device on him, and she reflects that might make it a tiny bit easier. Might. 

“Kate, it’s nice to see you again,” Dr. Burke says, inviting her to sit on the chair opposite him with open arms. His watchful eyes keep careful track of her movements without making her feel self-conscious or scrutinized. “I have to say, I didn’t expect to see you again unless it was for your psych eval. You didn’t seem too into this last time, if I recall correctly.” 

“No,” Kate replies slowly, and then feels the need to go on. “No, I wasn’t.” 

“Then what brought you back here? What changed, Kate?” 

“I…I want to get better. And I’m realizing now I might not be able to do it on my own…” The second it slips out of her mouth, she gives Burke the credit he deserves for sneaking down her barriers this far so quickly. “…in a timely fashion,” she adds, covering herself out of instinct. 

“I see. Was there anything in particular that helped you reach this conclusion?” Dr. Burke cocks his head slightly, the very picture of focus and interest and concentration. Now she feels self-conscious. 

“Well, when I last came to see you, you warned me about PTSD. It isn’t as easy to manage or as straightforward as I thought.” 

The psychologist’s eyes narrow infinitesimally. Obviously he has picked up on the fact she didn’t quite answer the question. But he chooses not to comment, and rather move on. He’s shrewd, and she wonders what it would be like forcing information out of him in interrogation. That’s one suspect interview she’s not sure she’d win. The man radiates this calm, confident, in-charge persona that one can just feel when stepping into the room. “That it is not,” Dr. Burke agrees. “Would you like to tell me about the symptoms you’ve been experiencing?” 

She swallows. “There are the nightmares.” 

He stops her right there. “What do you dream about, Kate?” 

“It changes. Sometimes my own shooting, sometimes the people I love dying. Death is always a factor.” 

“I asked you last time what you remembered about your shooting. You declined to answer me then, but I wonder if your response will be different now.” 

“I remember everything.” Kate pauses, hoping that will be enough for him, but apparently not. “I was… standing at the podium. Giving my speech about my former Captain. All my friends were in the audience, and Castle was standing off to the side. I got choked up in the middle and before I knew it Castle had tackled me to the ground. I heard the shot and felt the bullet, but I didn’t connect the two things until Castle was on top of me, staring at the bullet wound with this defeated, hopeless look in his eyes.” 

“How did that make you feel?” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“The way he looked at you. How does that make you feel?” 

“Umm…I felt…sad. That he had to go through this. And scared, that I had to. I felt bad for having pulled him into all this.” 

“All this?” 

With an internal sigh, she remembers that Dr. Burke has no idea about anything in her life—not her abnormal partnership with Castle, not her mom’s murder and how it connects to her shooting. “Castle—Richard Castle —has been shadowing me around for three years doing research for his novels. They’re based on me; I’m not quite sure why. At the end of our first year, when I was finally starting to not hate him because he was actually helpful instead of an annoyance all the time, he opened up my mother’s case again and I kicked him out of my life.” Kate takes a deep breath and continues. “My mother was murdered when I was nineteen, and the killer was never caught. The cops who investigated it attributed it to random gang violence, but I knew there was more to it. That’s why I became a cop, to get justice for her like those cops were unable to.” Quiet tears are falling now, and she can’t stop them. 

“Why did you kick him out?” Burke asks. Her tears don’t seem to faze him. 

“Because he did the one thing I asked him not to. Because I had shut and shelved that case for a reason, and he didn’t respect that. That case absorbed my first two years as detective, and if I hadn’t put it away for the time being it would have killed me. He reopened old wounds that he had no business poking around in.” 

“And I assume the relationship between the two of you was repaired at some point?”

“Yes. He apologized—really apologized, heartfelt—and I took him back.”

“How do you feel about Mr. Castle now?”

“I like him. We’re close.” Dr. Burke waits. “I’m in love with him. He told me he loved me while I was lying on the ground, shot, but it was a while in the hospital before I could accept that. Actually, I think it’s been staring at me in the face for two years, but I couldn’t accept it until now.” 

“Why do you think you were finally able to accept it?” 

She pauses. “I think I didn’t really have a choice. After his profession, when I first woke up in the hospital, it scared me. I lied and told him I didn’t remember the shooting, didn’t remember what he had said. But the look on his face when I told him that…I couldn’t bear to cause him so much pain. I had to accept it, for both of us. I had to come to terms with what I felt too.” 

He gives her a moment to say anything else on the subject that’s on her mind before moving on. “You mentioned nightmares as one of your symptoms. Are there any others that you are experiencing?” 

“Flashbacks. Noises startle me. And guns—I can’t stand the sight of them. I go back to that cemetery every time.” Her throat closes up on that last line. 

Dr. Burke tilts his head. “It’s completely understandable that you would have an adverse reaction to firearms, Kate. Why is that so upsetting to you?” 

“Because they’ve been an integral part of my life for the last ten years. I can’t be a cop if I can’t handle a gun, whether it’s me or the perp wielding it. Hell, you can’t even walk five feet into the precinct without catching a glimpse of one!” She’s upset now, all of this spilling out. “What can I do about it?” 

“We’re just getting started, Kate,” Dr. Burke says in his calming voice. “For now, I believe the best thing to do is avoid them. Seeing, holding, and using guns is going to the hardest part of your PTSD recovery, because one was so central to your injury. If you must be around them, it would be best that they were held by people you know well and trust deeply, such as the rest of your team at the precinct.” 

“Esposito and Ryan,” Kate nods. 

“Yes. If someone you trust is the one holding or carrying the gun and you start to feel unsafe but don’t want to remove yourself from the situation, try to bring to mind all the reasons you trust this person. If you can convince yourself you are in no danger even in the presence of a firearm, you will have made great progress.” 

Kate mulls this over. “It makes sense.” 

“All right, Kate. I’m going to recommend you come for a visit once a week and we can continue on with your treatment slowly. We’ve gotten a solid foundation for your recovery today. Is there anything else on your mind for the moment?” 

“Yes,” Kate remembers. “Right now Castle and I are living up north in relative isolation. I want to move back to the city and begin to re-assimilate myself to these surroundings, but Castle’s worried it’s not such a good idea. What do you think?” 

“Only you are an adequate judge of what you can handle, Kate, no one else. If you can get used to city life again without it becoming too much, then yes: it will most likely speed up your recovery. But if you can’t, you shouldn’t push yourself too hard. This isn’t an obstacle that determination alone will be able to get you through.” 

She digests this, accepting the non-answer because it puts her, not Castle, in the right. “Okay, thank you.” She stands to leave, two hours up. 

“Until next time, Kate,” Dr. Burke shows her to the door. Outside in the small but comfortable lobby, Castle is waiting for her. He’s gauging her emotional state with his eyes, but for once she doesn’t care. She makes an appointment with the receptionist for next time, and then accompanies him out to the car. 

“How’d it go?” Castle asks. 

“Fine,” she replies. “He gave me some advice, and he was a really good listener. He also agreed with me—we should move back here, to the city.” 

“He said that?” Castle questions, disbelief laced in his tone. 

“Well, not exactly, but that was the point,” she answers.

“Kate, what did he actually say?”

“He said only I was an adequate judge of what I could handle.” 

Castle sighs. “I respectfully disagree. No offense Kate, but I’ve seen you—you’re not a good judge of your capabilities or what’s good for you. You pull consecutive all-nighters when you’re working on your mom’s case, and when there’s a particularly stymieing development in the investigations at the precinct, you forget to eat.” 

“I can handle this, Castle. I promise you I can.” They argue about it all the way back to the cabin. 

“I disagree,” Castle says forcefully. They’ve just gotten home, gone to the living room, but the disagreement hasn’t slowed one bit. “I don’t think we should move back to the city! It’s a bad idea, Kate. After the Old Haunt, after the mall, I just don’t see it working! I’m not saying we can never go back, not at all, but you need to give yourself a little more time.” 

“I don’t want more time. I might screw up a little in the beginning—it’ll be hard, I know that—but I’ve lived there all my life, I’ll adjust. I need to learn to adjust.” 

“No,” Castle shakes his head. “You’re not ready. I don’t think you’re ready for this. I don’t think we should move back to the city right now.” 

“Then don’t,” she says, storming out of the room with a locked jaw. He follows at a slower pace just in time to see her snatch the keys off the counter and the door slam behind her. Alarmed, Castle scrambles after her, running out the door as his car is being backed out of the driveway. With a hand over hand spin of the wheel, half a glance backward at the cabin, and a determined expression on her face, Kate peels the car out onto the open road, gaining speed while Castle runs after her, a few feet behind. Luckily, the road takes an extra sharp turn ahead, forcing her to remain at a slower speed. Otherwise he’d have no hope of catching her. After about a hundred meters he puts on a burst of speed and manages to bang on the trunk with his fist. What else is he to do? 

To his surprise, the car slows down and he cautiously approaches the window to meet Detective Beckett’s hard stare. “Okay,” Castle pants. “Okay, you win. We’ll move back to the city. But let’s go pack our stuff from the cabin, okay?” 

She gives him a hard jerk of her hand towards the passenger side and he runs around the front of the car and pulls the handle. It’s locked—on purpose, he’s sure—and she vindictively waits a second before unlocking it for him. He climbs in the passenger seat and she pulls a hard U-ie, sending the car screaming back towards the driveway. 

She’s won, and he’s lost. He’d forgotten just how stubborn Kate Beckett can be. 

Back at the cabin, it doesn’t take them very long to gather up all their things and move them to the car. Castle does all the heavy items, including the suitcases, while Beckett checks for anything that could have slipped under the bed or been left in the cupboards. While she finishes up, Castle looks around the living room. He’s in there under the pretense of checking for things left behind like she is, but he’s bored with that and pretty sure knowing he might not see this place again for a while. Despite only having lived here for three weeks, it already has a very homey feel for him. They’ve made memories here, he and Kate. The joy he felt after she told him she remembered everything. Going through her box of photos and items from when she was a kid. Her crawling into his bed for the first time. And the second. And the third. And the fourth. Kate doing yoga in the living room. Castle watching her do yoga in the living room… Yeah, okay, time to go. 

Kate is in a much better mood on the ride back to her apartment than on the ride to the cabin, even calling Lanie to tell her the good news. When Lanie suggests they get together for lunch, Kate puts it on speakerphone so Castle can weigh in as well. The M.E. says Esposito and Ryan can clear their schedules for lunch tomorrow and she’s able to as well. 

“That sounds great, Lanie,” Kate tells her. “How about we pick up Mexican from that food truck I keep meaning to try and take it over to the Old Haunt for drinks?” She glances at Castle playfully. “It’s okay if we bring outside food into your establishment, right, Castle? It’s not going to hurt your profits too much?” 

“As long as you buy drinks,” Castle quips back. 

“Okay, it’s settled then,” Lanie says, voice crackly from the phone. “We’ll all meet at the precinct, okay? Javi says they have a confounding murder board all set up for you if you wanna take a quick peek as well.” 

Kate smiles. “Sure. See you then, Lanie!”

“Tomorrow, girl!”

Castle turns to Kate once she’s stowed the phone back into her pocket. “You sure ‘bout this?” 

“I can’t not go, not when they’ve all cleared their schedules.” She has a point. “Besides, if it becomes too much, I can always just say I’m going to the bathroom and go hide downstairs in the tunnels for a while.” She stops at Castle’s look. “I’m just kidding, Castle.” 

“Not funny, Kate.” He’s as serious as can be, deep, penetrating blue eyes fixed on her. 

“I know,” she apologizes, “sorry. But still. Doesn’t hurt to have a backup plan.” From the sly smirk on her face, she’s still teasing him. Castle rolls his eyes. He likes it when they get along. 

Chapter Text

The elevator doors open and Castle half expects to be swarmed by police officers, though he specifically told Esposito not to let them do that on a five-minute phone call last night. He’d also asked him to try and get the other detectives and uniforms to conceal their firearms a bit better, and Esposito’d said he’d try. Castle didn’t agree with Kate’s decision to move back into the city, but he has to admit it is her decision to make. Fighting her on it now won’t help—all he can do is give her every chance to succeed. Now for the moment of truth. 

Only the faithful L.T. Tolliver, Castle’s favorite uniform, catches their eye and comes over to say hello. He exchanges a few words with Beckett—Beckett? Where did that come from? Precinct habit—gets a laugh out of her, and moves on. Castle notes that he’s not even wearing his gun and must have left it in his locker. That’s what Castle likes about L.T.—he’s considerate, knows what he’s doing, and not as much of a stickler for the rules as everyone else is. 

Unfortunately, Castle can’t really see if Esposito managed to do his job because the bullpen seems to be filled to the brim with people in plain-clothes. They’re acting too chaotic to be extra detectives brought in for some sort of crisis, so he assumes they’re civilians like himself here for another reason. Everyone seems to be busy talking with someone, though. 

Esposito greets them with a broad smile and a “Hey, Beckett, Castle!” while Ryan stands stiffly to say his hellos. His non-slouching, straight-backed demeanor reminiscent of a Catholic school graduate meeting a nun is odd…in a flash Castle remembers the last time Ryan and Beckett talked on the phone, and he has to resist the temptation to smirk. 

“Hey, guys. What’re all these people doing here?” Castle asks, gesturing to the bustling bullpen around him. 

“Daytime shooting in the park,” Esposito replies. “Lot of witnesses to get statements from. This is one of those ones that makes me question the wisdom of the second amendment—guys like this who bring guns to picnics with their girlfriends.” 

Kate nods absentmindedly, taking everything in. “You said you had a murder board for me?” 

“Oh, yeah, sorry ‘bout that, Beckett,” Esposito says. “Caught a break that night with traffic cam footage, closed it first thing this morning. We can go to lunch as soon as Gates lets us off, which’ll be when Ryan finishes that monstrosity of paperwork.” 

“I’m almost done!” Ryan protests, bending over his work. 

“Never mind, that’s okay,” she murmurs. Castle had expected her to be more disappointed that they don’t need her help with a case. If he’s not mistaken, she’s a bit nervous being back here. Her eyes seem to focus not on the faces of the cops nearby, but at their waists where she knows their guns are holstered. The officers that he can see have covered them with their jackets and such, but the slight bulge and just knowing they’re there seems to be making her tense. He steps a fraction closer to her, but she’s already moving away to explore her empty desk behind them. Out of the corner of his eye he can see her picking up the name plaque reading DET. BECKETT and running her fingertips along the white engraved letters. 

“Yeah, we’re swamped just taking statements,” Ryan agrees. “Gates has been running around all morning trying to maintain order, but it’s pretty chaotic. I guess back in IA she liked to think precincts ran a bit smoother than this.” 

Castle laughs, always willing to make a pass at the Captain who had kicked him out of the precinct. “So, what have you guys been up to? Catch any cool murders lately? Or gruesome? Like, ooh—CIA hits gone wrong? Masked bandits willing to kill for a map leading to ancient treasure troves? Men melting down their wives’ bodies in tubs of acid?” 

“Dude,” Esposito says. “I get that you’re a crime writer, but really?”

“Yeah, so, how would we get those wife murders, exactly?” Ryan asks. “No bodies.” 

“Maybe he got interrupted and didn’t have time to fit her entirely inside,” Castle suggests. “Maybe when you got there, there was still half an arm on the floor, sizzling.” 

“Bro, gross,” Esposito shakes his head. “We see enough creepy things without you making us imagine more. We,” he glances at Ryan, “wanna hear about you and Beckett.” 

“Didn’t you learn your lesson from last time?” Castle asks pointedly, looking especially at Ryan. The detective suddenly becomes very interested in the smudge of dirt on the floor. 

“Come on, dude, don’t shut us out like this,” Esposito badgers. “We’re your bros, remember?” 

“Really? When she’s standing right there at her desk?” Castle asks. He turns to Beckett for support, expecting to see her patented glare directed at the three of them. Except she’s nowhere in sight. “Kate?” 

Leaving Castle and the boys to talk, Kate moves away from her desk, setting the plaque back down on it as she goes. She pauses briefly, deciding where she wants to go, before heading for the Captain’s office. There’s nobody inside, so she pushes the door open and closes it behind her. A modicum of relief slows her heart rate as she separates herself from the throng outside. She’s never liked crowds, and now she likes them even less. 

The place looks different than she remembers it. Different Captain, different decorations. The framed awards on the walls are still for the Twelfth Precinct, but certain certificates have the name “Victoria Gates” on them now. Where there used to be a picture of Montgomery and his wife, Evelyn, and daughters Rebecca and Mary, there is now a woman and husband she doesn’t recognize but assumes must be the new Captain Gates. 

“What are you doing in my office?” a female voice asks angrily. The door has opened behind her, and Kate whirls around to find herself face to face with the woman in the picture. 

“I…” She tries to hide how startled she’d been. The Captain, at least, doesn’t carry a weapon. That helps. 

“Detective Beckett,” the woman says, recognition flaring in her eyes and replacing the anger. “I’m sorry, I thought you were one of the riff-raff from outside. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” She holds out her hand and Kate shakes it. She can’t quite figure out how to explain her presence here as Gates makes her way around to the back of her desk and closes several folders on it. “Now, Detective, if you’re here to ask for your badge back, I’m afraid you still have another month of mandatory recovery and re-examinations to pass.” 

Kate shakes her head, but before she can say anything, Gates is peering out the window into the bullpen. “I suppose you’ve brought Mr. Castle with you?” 

“Yes sir,” she finds herself answering. Gates catches sight of Castle standing with Ryan and Esposito and takes off her reading glasses ominously. With her hands on her hips she gives the two detectives a dangerous look, and they scurry to look like they’re working. Castle meekly retreats to Kate’s desk and sits in her chair, playing with the mechanism that moves it up and down. Gates sighs. 

“Then why are you here, Detective? Even though you do have the highest case closure rate in the precinct, your being here while on leave is distracting and detrimental to the work of the other officers. Especially when you bring the second-rate novelist, Mr. Castle.” 

“I’m sorry, sir, we’re just waiting for Esposito and Ryan,” she says before her eyes alight on a little cop figurine on the desk, holding a tiny clipboard with the Miranda rights etched on it. She can’t stop herself from picking it up; it’s an item that’s been on this desk as long as she can remember, an item Captain Montgomery was fond of. She turns it over to find writing. 

To Roy
Congrats on making Detective -Mike 1986 

“Can I just…have a minute?”

Gates’s gaze softens. “Of course, Detective.” She leaves the office, shutting the door softly behind her. 

Kate sets the figurine down, wondering who Mike could be. The name doesn’t match any of the men Montgomery was friends with during the kidnapping scheme, but that’s about all she knows about Roy Montgomery’s life. His words echo back to her. “This is my spot, Kate. This is where I stand.” 

“Turn around slowly,” says a menacing voice from behind her. Immediately all her senses are on overdrive, screaming danger at her. She does as the voice commands. Her eyes take in the situation in half a second, but her limbs are immobile. It’s a man with his hand pressed over a young woman’s mouth, holding a gun to her head. The woman is whimpering softly, tears leaking out her eyes. “Don’t move,” the gun man hisses. Her hand drifts unconsciously to her hip, where her holster should be. There isn’t one. “Ah, ah, ah,” the man warns, spying the twitch of her hand. He cocks the gun, and her gaze hones in on it. What it can do. Destroy. Maim. Hurt. Kill. Tear apart. Her entire body is shaking now, staring mesmerized at the hunk of metal in his hand. Its effect on her is all-encompassing: her throat closes up so that she’s gasping for air, her heart pounds erratically, her hands and feet grow cold. “Call out for help, and she dies,” he warns. “Act normally. I need you to get us out of this precinct. Now.” 

Before she can say or do anything, the man shoves the girl up against the wall and the door opens widely, obscuring them both behind the blinds. “Whatcha doin’?” Castle asks. “If Gates catches you in here all alone, you’re toast.” 

She has to speak. She knows that, but her larynx isn’t cooperating. Come on, it’s just Castle. She can do this. “I have permission,” she grinds out weakly. “I’ll…I’ll be out in a minute. Just go back and finish up with Espo and Ryan. You’re not going to have much of a chance to do any more research for Wild Heat for a while.” Confusion flashes through Castle’s eyes, and she’s glad he’s facing her and not the gun man. Come on, Castle, she thinks desperately, willing him to understand. 

After what seems like an eternity, he nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” He turns and exits the office again, making a beeline for Ryan and Esposito. Outside, she can see the two detectives stand and catch L.T. by the wrist, pulling their guns surreptitiously from their holsters. 

Knowing he’s been caught, the gun man kicks the door away from him, not quite hard enough to close it. 

Esposito, Ryan, and L.T. hadn’t been inconspicuous enough, or something else must have gone wrong. He drops his hostage unceremoniously on the floor and fires two rounds into the ceiling, capturing everyone’s attention. Kate flinches at the noise, unaware that he’s shoved her to the floor as she relives the cemetery once again. The impact. Everything slipping away. 

The first thing she’s aware of when she comes to is that Castle’s gently prying her hands away from covering her eyes and face, murmuring something unintelligible. He smoothes back her hair and grips her tightly. He shakes her slightly by the shoulders, forcing her back into the present. Forcing her to look him in the eyes. “You’re okay, Kate. Up, come on.” He lifts her from the ground, supporting her with his body. Her entire body is shaking and her knees are weak; it’s hard to see through a cloud of dissipating panic. Castle guides her to the chair at her desk. Esposito and Ryan follow, clustering around. They’re soon joined by Captain Gates, freshly off the phone. 

“That was narcotics above us,” she informs the four of them. “One of the bullets caught a uniform in the foot, but otherwise no one was hurt. What the hell happened?” Everyone looks at Kate. 

She swallows. “I was in your office, and then a man came in, holding a gun to the head of a woman. A hostage. He told me he wanted me to get him out of the precinct, but before I could do anything, Castle came in.” 

“Beckett was acting weird, and I knew something was wrong,” Castle supplies. His hand is clasping hers comfortingly, but her brain feels fried. Every nerve she has is tingling, and her mind flits from one thought to the next frantically. She itches with the suppressed need to run. “On the way out I caught a glimpse of the hand with the gun through the blinds on the door. I told Ryan and Esposito, but he must have known I had seen him because he fired.” 

“Once the gunshots went off, all the civilians started screaming and rushing for the exits,” Esposito nods. “The perp dropped the woman, ran out of the office, and blended in the crowd. By the time Ryan and I managed to get through, he was gone.” 

“Where’s the woman now?” Gates asks. 

“L.T.’s got her in interrogation one to be safe,” Ryan answers. “He’s talking to her now, trying to calm her down and see what she knows.” 

“Security footage? Maybe we can ID the man off that.” 

“I’ll get on it,” Ryan slides away on his chair. 

“Detective Beckett, do you think you could sit with one of our sketch artists in case the video doesn’t pan out?” Captain Gates suggests. Kate nods mutely. “Mr. Castle, take her to them. I trust you know where to go? Good. Detective Esposito, you’re with me, interrogation.” 

“Yes, sir,” Espo replies automatically. Gates strides away from them, but Espo just looks at Kate. “You okay, Beckett?” There’s genuine concern in his eyes. 

“Yeah, I am. Go,” Kate says. 

Esposito exchanges a meaningful glance with Castle, who says, “Yeah, I got her.” Espo follows Gates, and Castle looks at Kate. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

She gives a half-nod, half-shrug, half-shake of her head. 

Castle brushes her hair back comfortingly. “We’re gonna catch this guy, okay? You’re safe now.” Kate nods, though he’s not even near convincing. The only part of this that’s vaguely helpful is his steadiness: the way he holds her hands, the seriousness and sincerity in his eyes.

When they’re done with the sketch artist, an hour later by Castle’s estimation, the five of them meet back in the bullpen by Ryan and Esposito’s desks. Castle steals a chair for himself and brings Kate’s over for her. She’s only marginally recovered from the incident, as she stays closer to him than usual and keeps glancing around like she’s ready to bolt. He knows Esposito notices it too—as ex-Special-Forces, he probably knows a thing or two about PTSD. 

It surprises Castle slightly that she hasn’t bolted yet. First it had been a gunshot-like noise in her apartment that caused her to flee, and then something at the mall. This incident is infinitely worse than both of those scenarios, so why is she calmer in this one? She didn’t just hear shots or see a gun, she saw a man shoot it right in front of her. She saw him holding that gun to another woman’s head, knowing full well what it could do. Why is her reaction now any less dramatic? There are only two explanations he can think of. One, she’s in the precinct, somewhere she’s well aware contains criminals and low-lifes. Both of the other locations had been completely out of the blue—she never would have expected a guy with a gun in her apartment or at a mall. Here, she’s seen it before. Dick Coonan, and others. Two, she’s surrounded by people she trusts— Esposito, Ryan, L.T., and maybe even Gates as Captain. Number two hurts a little, because Castle had been standing right beside her at the mall incident. That would mean she feels safer around all of them than just him. He supposes darkly that that would make sense—they’re all cops, peacekeepers, defenders of the law. He still doesn’t like the idea that they can provide the sense of security he can’t. 

Gates brings the chair from her office and joins the small circle.

“How’s the woman?” Castle asks straight off. For once, Gates doesn’t look too annoyed by his being here. 

“Her name is Alanis Casparian, twenty-six. She’s a little shaken up, but the head psychiatrist, Dr. Holloway, is talking with her now.” 

“Does she have any connection with the gun man?” 

“Not that she’s aware of; she said she’s never seen that man before in her life. She was one of the park shooting witnesses here to give her statement. Have we managed to ID the gun man yet?” Esposito queries. 

“Almost,” Ryan answers. “The video by itself was a bust—his face was always mostly shaded—but I contacted the analysts in narcotics and vice and one of them from narcotics said she could combine a sketch with the video footage and try running that through facial rec. Ah, here it is: Finn Sandler, multiple arrests, mostly for public intoxication and disorderly conduct, but the last one of those was ten years ago. Then it looks like he cleaned up his act, because we’ve got nothing on him but a driver’s license.” Ryan shows them the picture. 

“That’s him,” Kate confirms.

“See if there’s any link between Casparian and Sandler in their files,” Esposito tells his partner. Ryan nods. 

“Keep me apprised,” Gates says. “I want this guy caught without further turmoil. He shot an officer in my precinct. I’ve got to deal with this PR debacle before it gets out of hand.” She affixes Esposito with an intense gaze. “You’re running point on this one, Detective. Bring the bastard in.” 

“Yes, sir,” Esposito replies. Gates turns to go back into her office. 

“Captain Gates,” Kate calls after her, standing. “I want to help with this one.” 

The Captain looks back at her incredulously. “What did I tell you earlier, Detective? I cannot allow you to have your badge back until you have passed evaluations.” 

“Beckett is the only one who got a clear look and talked with the man,” Castle argues, leaping to his feet as well. 

Gates pauses, considering. “All right, but for this one case only. You are not here under any official capacity, Detective Beckett, and you are not to pursue this case outside of the precinct. You are here to observe and consult only.” 

“I understand,” Kate replies quickly. 

“The same goes for you, Mr. Castle.” 

“Of course.” 

“Ryan,” Gates barks, turning away from them. “Get that video tech from narcotics down here. I want to bring her in for this case.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ryan agrees immediately, reaching for his phone. “Are you sure about this?” Castle asks. She looks at him. 

“Yes.” 

Chapter Text

“Kate, come here a minute,” Castle says softly. She can feel his hand at the small of her back, and she wonders of he’s about to insist they go home. And which ‘home’ that’ll be. She doesn’t feel strong enough to fight him on it right now. But no, he defended her against Gates. So what then? 

He guides her to the break room and sits her down at one of the tables. He takes the seat across from her and her hand in his. His hands are soft and warm covering hers, and she can no longer conceal the slight shake to them. “Why are you doing this, Kate?” 

A billion answers flit through her head, but she tries to answer him with the most honest. It’s not just about getting back to her job. In this scenario, she has nothing to prove. Nothing is expected of her. She’s stubborn, not stupid. She knows that this is pushing it. She knows this probably isn’t the best place to be. “I’m scared, Castle. Of being out there. With just my shooter out in the world, I was willing to face that. I was willing to take the chance that he was still out there, because if he hadn’t made another move by now he probably wasn’t going to. I couldn’t live my life in constant fear of him. Now there is a very real chance that someone else is gunning for me—that man in Gates’s office. I saw him, Castle, I saw his face. It’s not that I’m rushing back into my job, I know I’m not ready for that, I know that, but I’m safer in here. Everyone’s on watch for him in here. There are people I trust, with weapons, in here.” She wills him to understand, knowing she hasn’t explained herself very well. Every thought and emotion is a jumble in her head. 

Castle nods and she looks up to study his expression. He looks…impressed. Surprised. That that was her reason? Maybe. That she was willing to admit it? Probably. 

“Okay, Kate,” he smiles, squeezing her hands. “I understand. We’ll keep you safe. You have nothing to worry about.” She smiles weakly back. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m okay, Castle. Shaken, but okay. It doesn’t get easier each time, but being here helps. At the mall, at my apartment…it caught me by surprise. Here, there are suspects everywhere, and some of them are criminals. It’s to be expected I guess.” 

Castle gives a short laugh. “Guess we need to find you a new job then.” 

Kate stands. “Well, we wouldn’t want them to walk free, would we?” she answers back lightly. “Come on, let’s go see what Espo and Ryan are up to.” 

“Yeah,” Castle agrees. “Oh yeah, back in Gates’s office, did you say ‘Wild Heat’?” 

It takes Kate a minute to figure out what he’s talking about. “What? Oh, yeah, I did. First thing that came to mind.” 

“Wild Heat,” he mused. “Good name for a Nikki Heat book.” 

“Feel free to use it,” Kate says. “It already has a history—it probably saved Alanis Casparian’s life and wounded some narcotics officer in the foot.” 

“Awesome,” says Castle. “Well, not the foot part, ow, but awesome.” 

Kate chuckles weakly and heads for the door. Outside, to her relief, most of the witnesses for the daytime shooting have left. Fled, really. The precinct is back to normal. She takes one look at the unbroken whiteness of the murder board and knows what she wants to do. With Castle watching, she picks up the photos from Ryan’s desk and begins to post them rapidly, as well as cover some of the blank space with her readable, easy-on-the-eyes capital letters. It irks her that she can’t even list suspects or victims, as no one has been killed yet and they already know who the man with the gun is. The only reason this is their case is that it happened at their precinct, on their floor. According to Ryan, narcotics had been itching to get their hands on this one given what had happened to their uniform, but were forced to concede that homicide might have more experience handling this sort of thing. Kate caps her marker, having moved all of the information available to her onto the board. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed the distinct scent of whiteboard marker and the definitive squeak of the tip against the board’s slippery surface. The combined smell and sound, along with the familiar task, help to ground her a little. 

She can feel Castle’s eyes boring into her from his protective position five feet away. His stance reminds her of a watchdog. Or a meerkat. But for once she doesn’t mind him watching her work. 

As soon as she’s capped the pen, Espo’s sliding over to her in his chair. “Why are you here, Beckett? None of us would blame you if you just wanted to go home. You’ve got nothing to prove. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, Espo, I do,” she says. “I guess I just don’t want to be the victim again. I want to be a cop instead.” 

Esposito nods and some of his concerned expression melts away. 

Before he can say anything else, however, Gates is storming past them and yelling loud enough to gather the attention of the entire bullpen. “Damn, how did they get in here? I thought I made myself clear; clear this floor of civilians and allow in authorized persons only for the duration of this case!” 

“Sorry to interrupt your investigation, but all access pass,” the orange-haired woman held up her badge. “We’re going to need everything you have on Finn Sandler.” Kate recognizes her immediately. 

“Special Agent Shaw,” she says with a handshake. Espo and Ryan scramble to greet her as well, with Gates bobbing in her wake. 

“On what grounds are you taking over our investigation?” Gates demands. 

“Sandler is a person of interest in several kidnappings,” Shaw replies before turning back to Kate. “It’s nice to see you again, Detective Beckett. I saw on the news you were shot. How’re you holding up?” 

“I’m okay,” Kate smiles unconvincingly. 

“I’ve been there,” Shaw replies. “You and I, we should chat after our work here is done.” 

Kate nods, wondering when Agent Shaw had ever been shot. For once, she’s not angry that the FBI is taking over her investigation—Esposito’s investigation. Habit. Though she had initially been hostile to the bureau’s butting in, she had warmed up to her over the course of the Scott Dunn case. After Kate had rescued her from Dunn, the two had gone their separate ways. She was loathe to admit it, but part of the reason she’d disliked Shaw at first was all of the cool gadgets she brought with her and the way Castle hung on her every word. If she was a one-writer girl, then Castle should have extended the same courtesy and been a one-muse man. Nevertheless, she has nothing to worry about now. She knows exactly where she and Castle stand, and Agent Shaw is resourceful and intelligent—she’ll only be an asset in catching Sandler. Plus she’s friendly to work with, unlike other federal agents she’s known. 

“Detectives Esposito, Ryan, Mr. Castle, nice to see you again,” Shaw says.

“You all know each other?” Gates asks, connecting the five of them with her fingers. 

“Yes, we worked with Special Agent Shaw on the Scott Dunn case,” Esposito answers. “Beckett’s apartment got blown up and Agent Shaw was kidnapped by Dunn.” 

“And I was rescued by Nikki Heat,” Shaw says with a slight smile. The team smiles too. “Nikki Heat? I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Gates questions. 

“She was rescued by Beckett and Castle,” Ryan supplies. “Dunn had a fascination with Nikki, and she’s part Castle, part Beckett.” 

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Shaw turns to Captain Gates. “Special Agent Jordan Shaw.” 

“Captain Victoria Gates,” Gates’s expression is slightly softer, but her eyes are the giveaway. She’s not happy about this intrusion into the workings of the precinct one bit. “Welcome back to the Twelfth, Special Agent Shaw.” 

“It’s nice to be here. You’ve got a good team; we’ll try to keep you in the loop as much as possible.” 

“We appreciate it,” Gates says. A uniform walks up and says something close to her ear. “Excuse me; I’ve got the commissioner on the line. Detectives, give your full cooperation to Agent Shaw and her team.” She hurries away as Espo and Ryan murmur their assent. She finds herself nodding too out of habit. 

“We’ll need a place to set up like last time,” Shaw says, “I’ve got guys in the elevator right now with the smart boards and more equipment on the way.” 

“Same place as last time works,” Espo suggests, and Shaw nods smartly, signaling her guys to the location. Agent Avery, her partner, joins her and greets the team in much the same way, although a bit more formally. She knows from experience that they have a very effective partnership—without the banter that accompanies hers and Castle’s, but with the same mutual trust and respect. 

Within minutes the FBI have set up the infamous “war room” with its three large glass screens, numerous computers and monitors, and agents bustling around inputting all the data the precinct collected from Casparian, the video footage, and even the perp’s sketch, although it probably won’t matter seeing as they’ve already identified him as Finn Sandler. In the center of the board, the Victim Comparison Matrix is already chugging away, with three other victims within the blue circle and Casparian outside of it. Kate can remember how most of this works from last time, but seeing it all again makes her even less willing to return to her apartment anytime soon. Maybe she’ll ask to stay over at Castle’s for a few days. 

Castle points to the board. “Why isn’t Casparian in with the other three victims?” he asks Shaw. 

“Because we don’t know the circumstances of this hostage situation,” Shaw answers. “Casparian may have been just opportunistic for Sandler, or she may have actually been his next target. Until we know that, we’ll keep her separate from the other definite victims.” 

“Ballistics,” Esposito strides in holding a packet of papers aloft, “for the gun Sandler was using. He probably will have ditched it by now, but we can cross-reference the bullets with those used in other unsolved murders in our database.” 

Shaw takes the papers, leafs through them quickly, and then hands them off to one of her underlings. “Is Casparian still in the precinct?” 

“No, Doc Holloway sent her home,” Ryan answers, a woman around Kate’s age in tow. “But we had a protective detail on her just to be safe, and as soon as we heard about Sandler’s other kidnappings we radioed them to take her back here to be put in witness protection. ETA in ten minutes.” 

Shaw nods. “Good. Who is this?” 

“Tory Ellis, narcotics. She’s our best video tech, and she’s the one who managed to combine the sketch and the shaded face from the feed for facial rec,” Ryan answers. They shake hands. 

“Agent Avery can show you the ropes of what we’re doing here,” Shaw tells her. “Tell us about the other victims,” Esposito suggests. “What’s Sandler’s MO?” 

“We’ve yet to find anything definitive connecting any of them,” Shaw replies. “Sandra Baker, thirty-nine, biochemist, married. Lucas Milton, fifty-five, accountant, married. And Kyle Neme, twenty-three, mechanical engineer. Each of them was abducted in a different part of the city and taken to different locations to be tortured. The first victim, Sandra Baker, was killed in the process, but we managed to recover samples of epithelial cells from under her fingernails. Ran them for DNA, nothing. Second victim, Neme, same MO as the first, taken off the street in the dark, no witnesses, but a tenant from the nearby apartment building heard the screams from the torture and called 911. The NYPD found Neme with multiple stab wounds and four of his fingernails ripped off of his left hand and he was transported to the hospital. They ran DNA and found the same as ours, which pinged on our radar. Neme recovered and was able to give us a license plate number and a sketch of his kidnapper, but when we caught up with the van it had Sandler’s partner, Ian Dubose, inside instead. Milton was found a few days later with wounds identical to Baker and Neme’s, but he looked to have been killed before Baker.” 

“So Sandler did the kidnapping, and Dubose did the torturing,” Castle says. “Do you know what information they were trying to get out of Baker, Neme, and Milton?” 

“Not yet,” Shaw answers. “Hopefully something will pop on the Matrix.” 

“Agent Shaw,” one of her guys interrupts. “Nothing yet in the comparison, but ballistics got a match to an ongoing investigation at the Fifty-Fourth Precinct. Ran ‘em twice, they’re sure it’s the same gun.” 

Shaw nods, satisfaction flashing in her eyes. “All right, everything on that case on the big screen.” The man hurries away and a moment later the boards are filled with text and documents. “Add him to the comparison as well,” Shaw directs. “Unless we’re able to break Dubose, finding a connection is going to be our only lead.” 

“There,” Agent Avery points. “Lucas Milton and their victim, Fernanda Gonzalves, worked at the same company, Labaque Incorporated.” 

“Everything you’ve got on Labaque—“ Shaw barely has to say it before it zooms up onto the large screens for them to peruse. Kate steps closer to get a better look, conscious of Castle mimicking her move. He’s staying close, and she’s grateful. 

“Labaque Inc. is a large biotech research company with advanced work in genetics and cellular mitosis,” Castle reads off quietly and then lapses into silence, still moving his lips. 

“I think I may have found that connection you’re looking for,” Tory Ellis speaks up. It takes Beckett a minute to place her as one of their own, as she looks so at home among the feds. They all move backward to give her room next to the smart board. She enlarges a section of text with a flick of her fingers and does the same to another document. “Labaque Inc. recently bought out several smaller facilities, including GENtex and Technogen. Eight months ago, GENtex took over a smaller company, Baltimore Labs—“ 

“Where Baker worked,” Kate catches on. “Three victims all working for the same company? That can’t be a coincidence.” 

“It’s not,” Shaw agrees, and motions with her hand. “We’ll go find out what we can at Labaque’s central offices; Detectives Ryan and Esposito, you two check out the old GENtex labs. If their people are being targeted, they’re going to want to cooperate. And if they don’t, well, that says something too.” 

“On it,” Esposito nods. For a moment Castle looks excited at the prospect of splitting up—if Espo and Ryan aren’t going with the FBI, then she and Castle get to ride in what he calls the fedmobile—before remembering Gates’s instruction that they are not to work on the case outside of the precinct. Kate feels sorry for holding him here, but there’s nothing she can do about it. Even if she felt safe letting Castle go without her, Gates would never allow him to assist on a case, especially such a high profile one as this. 

Shaw turns back to Kate and Castle at the last second before she follows her team into the elevator. “Go home and get some rest, Beckett. There’s going to be nothing more for you and Castle to do tonight, and I know how much a bullet wound can take out of you. We’ll call if anything exciting happens, don’t worry.” 

Kate nods uneasily and watches her go with mixed emotions. Jealousy, that Shaw is able to go out and find this guy. Relief, to get some rest. She’s been on her feet longer than normal—not all afternoon, but a good portion of it. She’s also had to be actively engaged all that time as well, sitting or standing. Add to that the extra tenseness in her muscles from the PTSD and she’s very willing to admit she’s tired. It’s only five o’clock —she never leaves the precinct this early—but for now, Agent Shaw is right, there’s nothing left to do. 

That night, despite a delicious home-cooked meal by Castle’s daughter and Castle’s own warmth in the bed beside her, Kate can’t seem to fall asleep. Her mind just keeps running: sometimes playing back the shooting and the gun that Sandler held, sometimes about the case, and sometimes just…thoughts. Castle’s been fast asleep for hours—the clock reads 3:45 A.M. 

With a sigh, Kate slips the covers off of her and, careful not to disturb Castle, tiptoes out of the bedroom and shuts the door behind her. The living room light is on, and Kate gravitates toward it. “Alexis,” she whispers. The red-head jumps slightly before recovering. Alexis is curled up under a blanket on one end, her legs tucked up to her chest. Kate sits down and Alexis tosses her one end of the blanket. 

“What are you doing up?” Alexis asks mid-yawn as Kate situates herself under it. “I couldn’t sleep,” Kate answers truthfully. “You?”

“Me neither,” Alexis shakes her head. 

“Is there something on your mind?” Kate asks gently. “Is something wrong?” She’d much prefer to talk about Alexis’s life than her own, and she has a feeling that’s where this would have led had she not taken the initiative and spoken first. 

“No, nothing,” Alexis says uncertainly. Her worried blue eyes betray her. 

“Are you sure?” Kate says. “Does it have to do with Ashley?” She knows all about Alexis’s boyfriend, and though Castle seems to think they make a pretty solid couple—for a high school relationship at least—Kate’s been in enough of them to know things can change drastically at a moment’s notice. 

“No, we’re fine,” Alexis says in that same quavery tone. “It’s just…” Kate looks at her expectantly. “When Dad came home and said you two’d been working a case at the precinct, I got scared.” Kate nods. “I know this may be hard for you to talk about, but when you were shot, he tried to knock you down and out of the way. He put himself in the path of the bullet.” 

“Alexis,” Kate says, leaning closer. A hint of guilt is starting to seep through her veins. “I didn’t ask your dad to do that. Actually, I would prefer he never tried in the first place. I don’t want to see him get hurt, and I don’t want to see you lose your father.” 

“I know that,” Alexis whispers. “I know that, I do. I don’t blame you in the slightest—I don’t want you to get hurt either. But when you guys said you went back to the precinct…for as long as your partnership has gone on, I’ve trusted you to take care of him, Kate. You to always bring him home—maybe not at the end of every day, maybe not without a few scratches, but I’ve always trusted you to bring him back safe eventually. I can’t help but wonder, who’s looking out for him now?” 

“Everyone at the Twelfth,” Kate replies automatically. “Ryan and Espo, they’d never let anything happen to him. And neither would I, injured or not. I would take another bullet for him, Alexis, if that meant he could come home safe to you.” 

Alexis purses her lips slightly, but she accepts the reassurance, perhaps recognizing it’s all Kate can really offer her. She gives her a soft smile, though her blue eyes remain solemn. “Okay, but don’t make habit of it, yeah?” 

Chapter Text

“No, definitely not looking to do that,” Kate smiles faintly. “So, what do you say, back to bed?” 

“I guess,” Alexis nods. They both stand and before Kate knows it Alexis has wrapped her in a vanilla-scented bear hug. “Thank you,” the teen whispers, releasing her after a few more seconds. 

The door opens behind her and she turns to the sound of music and Castle standing bemused in the doorway. “Uh…your phone’s ringing,” he says, holding it out to her. 

“Thanks, Castle,” she says, walking quickly over and taking it from him. She accepts the call and presses it to her ear, moving away from Castle and Alexis. “Beckett.” 

“Sorry about the time,” Agent Shaw says, “But we caught a break on the Sandler case, and I thought you’d want to be here for it. We showed pictures of Sandler and his partner, Dubose, to the night guards at Labaque Inc. and one of them recognized them, said they had parked next to him in the garage and he noticed because he had never seen them before and they were acting oddly. He got a plate number, and it’s not the van we already pulled over. We’re running it now.” 

“We’ll be right there,” Kate says, pulling her coat from the rack. “Thanks for the call.” “No problem,” Shaw replies, hanging up. 

“Castle, precinct,” she tells him, interrupting some sort of nonverbal communication between him and his daughter. Realizing how Alexis’s eyes had widened at the word ‘precinct,’ Kate says, “Just a lead on a car our perp might be using. Nothing dangerous, I promise.” 

Alexis nods and turns to her dad. “See you tonight?” 

“Yeah, pumpkin,” he kisses the top of her head. 

“Love you,” says Alexis as he opens the door. 

“I love you too,” Castle responds with a reassuring smile. “See you tonight.” He closes the door behind them. On any other day, Kate would have asked if he was sure he wanted to come with her. But he knew as well as she did that in this case, if he wasn’t going neither was she. She needed him. 

“Did you get any sleep at all last night?” Castle asks once they’re on the road. 

“No,” she answers honestly. 

“Anything in particular keeping you up? Anything you wanna talk about?” His voice is gentle, and she has to stifle a yawn before she can respond. 

“Not really. The case.”

“Sandler?”

“I’m okay, Castle. I’ve been in plenty of perp-holding-a-gun-to-a-bystander’s-head situations before.” 

Even though he doesn’t say it, she can hear him thinking it. “Yeah, but never with PTSD. Never after you were shot and died.” She swallows. The him in her imagination has a point, a valid one, but dwelling on how she should be traumatized and scared and shaken right now isn’t going to help anything. All the real Castle says is, “Okay,” and she loves him just a little bit more for it. 

In the elevator Kate mentally prepares herself for what she’s about to see, the hustle and bustle of the bullpen, but when they arrive it’s strangely quiet. A few uniforms wander around aimlessly, and the most sound definitely comes from the war room. Oh, right, she’s forgotten: it’s 4:10 A.M. 

Agent Shaw greets her at the door, gesturing for her to come in and see what they’ve found. At Kate’s question, Shaw tells her that she sent Ryan and Esposito home for the night a couple hours ago. To Kate’s surprise, the new video tech is still there, slogging away at one of the fed’s computers. 

“Did you manage to get some shut-eye?” Shaw asks her, approaching the smart boards. “Yes,” Kate lies, and then decides against it, shaking her head. “No. What’ve you got?” 

Shaw segues right into it without so much as a worried glance at Kate. That’s the beauty of a working relationship—Kate showed up, Shaw doesn’t waste any time worrying over something Kate obviously isn’t worried about. Unlike what Castle, Ryan, Esposito, and probably Lanie too would think, Kate can handle twenty-four or thirty-six hours without sleep. She’s done it before, for longer. 

Although, granted, that was when she was still good friends with caffeine and wasn’t healing a bullet hole in her chest. 

“We got a hit on the plates a few minutes ago—another stolen van. We’re searching traffic cams now both by hand and automatically and hoping to get lucky. If you’d like to talk to him, the security guard from Labaque, Clyde Monroe, is in the lounge down the hall.” Shaw hands her a manila folder and a pencil and Kate nods. It occurs to her that maybe this isn’t quite what Gates had in mind when she gave her permission to ‘consult only,’ but it’s not like she’s leaving the precinct to do it. And Gates told Ryan and Esposito to give their full cooperation to the FBI, and as she’s just following Shaw’s orders, it’s at least arguable. Kate’s itching to stretch her interrogation muscles, and talking to this guy is about as close as she’s gonna get. 

With Castle trailing behind, she heads for the man in his early thirties who’s running her hand over his hair agitatedly. He looks up and stands when she opens the door. “Mr. Monroe, I’m Detective Kate Beckett,” she says with a handshake, “and this is my partner, Richard Castle. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” 

“Sure, but I’m pretty sure I already told the FBI all I know,” the man replies hesitantly, glancing back in the direction of Agent Shaw and her team. 

“Why don’t we just start from the beginning?” She opens the folder in her hands and withdraws mug shots of Sandler and Dubose. “Have you seen these two men before?” 

“Yes,” the man replied. “Two days ago. I work the night shift at Labaque Inc. and was leaving after my shift was over. I was walking through the parking garage to my car and this van pulled into the spot next to me. I was in a section reserved for the guards, and I’ve met all of them, but I didn’t recognize these two. That one —“ he pointed to Dubose, “—was driving. They were wearing earpieces, but all of the security guards use handheld radios. It seemed off to me, but I was done with my shift and just wanted to go home and sleep. I wrote down the plate number, radioed it in along with their descriptions, and left.” 

“About what time was this?” Castle asks from where he’s leaning up against the wall behind her. She’s taking notes. 

“My shift ends at around 5:00 A.M., so it was probably around five minutes after that?” the man guesses. 

“Did anything odd happen at your company that day?” Kate asks. “Was anything stolen or sabotaged or did anyone not show up who was supposed to?” 

“Not that I’m aware of, but you’d really have to ask Mr. Whitcomb. He runs the company; he would know.” 

“Thank you, we will,” Kate says. “Do you remember anything else about the men or the van that would help us find them?” 

The man thinks a minute. “No, I’m sorry. Once I got home I pretty much didn’t give them another thought until I heard those two detectives asking about them last night.” 

Kate closes the folder. “Thank you for coming in; you’ve been very helpful. If you remember anything else, give us a call.” 

The man nods, shaking her hand again. “I will.” She guides him to the elevator and sighs as soon as the doors close. 

“Besides the plate, so not helpful,” Castle sums up her thoughts. 

“Yeah.” She heads back to the war room with him trailing her just a step behind. 

“Did you find anything else out from him?” Shaw asks, not even looking up from the smart board. “We ran with the plate as soon as we had it, and as it was the middle of the night we were a bit understaffed.” For a woman running on no sleep for the past twenty-four hours, Agent Shaw didn’t look at all tired, just determined. Determined to find this guy and end his kidnapping and torturing rampage. Kate briefly wonders if that’s the same look she herself gets when working on her mom’s case. When Castle has to drop food off at her desk to make sure she eats and forcibly close whatever she’s working on so that she gets some sleep. He’s been taking care of her a lot longer than she realized. 

Kate hands the fed her notes and Shaw scans them quickly. She snaps her fingers at Agent Avery. “Get me Whitcomb, the head of Labaque, on the phone, now. I don’t care if he’s asleep or in a meeting, just get him on the line.” 

Avery gives a hard, clipped nod and works with one of the techs to get a number. He holds the phone to his ear, presumably on hold, occasionally reminding the various people on the other end that he is a federal agent. He scribbles something down on a sheet of paper and then he hands it and the phone to Agent Shaw. “His personal cell,” Avery explains. 

Shaw dials. “This is Special Agent Shaw from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” Pause. “We need some information about your company. Do you remember any security alerts from Wednesday, the 22nd? Yes, I will hold.” Agent Shaw exchanges a glance with Kate. “He’s contacting the head of security. Looks like we’re waking a lot of people up today.” 

“They’ll live,” Kate replies drily. 

“Yes, thank you,” Shaw returns her attention to the phone. “Two suspicious persons, white males, called in early in the morning. Were they ever apprehended by security?” She waits. “Just a few more questions, Mr. Whitcomb. Was anything reported missing from your offices that day?” Since Shaw has no reaction but a slight sigh to his answer, Kate can only presume a no. “And did any of your employees not show up for work that day?” Shaw frowns slightly. “Yes, I do realize it is a big company, Mr. Whitcomb. Yes, I will hold again.” After a longer interlude, Shaw listens intently to the man on the other end before saying, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Whitcomb,” and hanging up. 

“He says four employees didn’t show up for work that day,” Shaw says, dictating their names to one of her agents. Kate and Castle watch as their names appear on the left smart board. “The first two are unlikely, as they both called in sick and returned to work yesterday. Number four was a consistent no-show, whom they only kept employed because he was one of their more brilliant scientists and they didn’t want him working for a rival company. That leaves number three. He was relatively new but working on one of their biggest projects, and has never missed a day of work before. He also didn’t go to work yesterday.” 

“Sounds like he was taken,” Castle suggests. 

“Exactly,” Shaw agrees. “Avery, we need to find this guy. Everything you have on him, on screen, especially home address.” 

“Doing it,” Avery replies automatically, clicking away at one of the computers. “Sent the address to your phone, we are good to go. Everett, Rosenthal, Vale, Guo, let’s move out. Within seconds the feds are out the door into the elevator, leaving Ellis, Kate, and Castle alone with two leftover feds in the war room amid the whir of the many machines and the slight heat emitted by the smart boards and electronics. 

“Hope they find him,” Kate says, wandering out of the stuffy room and back into the bullpen. She collapses absentmindedly into the chair at her desk, vaguely aware of Castle moving his customary seat back into position beside her. 

“You okay?” he asks, eyeing her concernedly.

“Yeah, just tired,” she replies, propping up her elbow and resting her head in her hand to look at him.

“They don’t need us right now; we could go home and try to get more sleep,” he suggests.

“No, I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway,” she sighs. “Not until this case is over.”

“Hopefully soon,” he assures her. “So, listen, Kate: what would you say to living at the loft for a while?” 

She blinks, trying to decide what to say. Castle’s place is nicer than hers—bigger bed, too—but it’s not home. Still, after this case, after seeing Shaw again, maybe she doesn’t want to go home? Even after more than a year, the back of her mind still connects Shaw with apartment with explosion. Maybe this would be good for her own peace of mind. “What about Alexis? Wouldn’t she mind?” 

“I talked with Alexis last night while we did the dishes. I think she’d actually prefer it this way. She gets to see me more often, and she does like having you around a lot.” Kate pauses, considering. “Okay. For a little while.” 

Castle smiles. “Good. You’ll like it there—I might even have to biggest private DVD collection this side of the United States.” 

She laughs. “I doubt it, but I do like a good movie. When all of this is said and done…” 

“Yeah,” Castle’s eyes sparkle at her. “I have a few in mind.” 

“Oh, really? What—“ Her cell phone rings, cutting her off. “Beckett.” 

“Hey, it’s Shaw,” the federal agent says. “Just calling to tell you we’re moving in on Letder’s building. I’ll call you again once we’ve cleared the place.” 

“Understood, good luck,” Kate replies. She and Castle sit in silence for the next few minutes. 

“A watched pot never boils,” Castle mutters, forcing himself to look away from the phone. “Is it supposed to take this long?” 

“Maybe they’ve found something.”

“Do you think they found him?”

“I hope so.”

“See this, the waiting? Now do you get why I never follow your orders and stay in the car?” 

“Just relax, Castle. She’ll call when they’re done. Soon.” 

“Are you relaxed?” 

“No,” she admits. 

“I think this is more stressful than going in with vest,” Castle tells her. The cell rings and she picks it up quickly. 

“Beckett.” 

“We couldn’t find Letder, but we did recover his phone,” Shaw informs her. “I’ve got tech working on it right now in the van. We’re headed back to you, but we think we know how this kidnapping was set up. Letder received a text from a number that wasn’t in his contacts two days ago saying it was his brother and that he was in trouble. It asked him to come alone and meet him in Crossgroves Park.” 

Kate transcribes the number onto her notepad. “I’ll get Ellis to go through camera video from then; what time was it?” Kate asks, striding purposefully back towards the war room. 

“The park is only fifteen minutes from his apartment, so have her comb from 6:00 A.M. to 6:30, and then expand the parameters if she doesn’t come up with anything.” Kate passes along the information to the NYPD video tech. “I’ve sent a team to the park to sweep for evidence and perhaps find some witnesses, but as it was two days ago I doubt they’ll find anything. What can you tell me about this brother?” 

She approaches the smart board and examines the family relations section. “Ian Letder, younger brother and fraternal twin to their sister Leah. He’s got quite a colorful file—possession, possession with intent to distribute, B & E, possession of an illegal firearm...” 

“So it’s plausible that Alexander actually thought his brother was in trouble,” Shaw states. “Call the sister—Leah, was it?—and see if she can shed any light on their relationship. Most likely the texts didn’t come from Ian, but can’t rule out Sandler and Ian having some connection. Have one of my agents look for it as well.” 

“Got it,” Kate says. She brings Castle up to speed in a few short sentences and then contacts Leah Letder, asking her to come down to the station. 

When the woman arrives, it’s with the air of someone who has done this many, many times before and is not at all eager to repeat the event. “Right this way, Miss Letder,” Kate directs her into the lounge. 

“What is this about?” the woman asks, folding her arms across her lap after taking a seat. “When was the last time you spoke to your brothers?” Kate asks, opening her notebook. 

“Ian and Alexander? Well, for Ian it’s been years. He was in and out of rehab and jail so many times over the years, the family just finally cut contact with him.” 

“And Alexander?” 

“We were supposed to meet for lunch on Wednesday, but he never showed up. I called him and called him, but he never picked up. I talked to the police, but they said I had to wait forty-eight hours before I could file a missing persons report. Do you know where he is?” 

“We’re trying to find that out, Miss Letder. Do you recognize this telephone number?” Kate shows it to her and the woman shakes her head. 

“No, I’ve never seen it before.” 

“Someone used this number to contact Alexander two days ago. They said they were Ian, and that they needed to meet him in Crossgroves Park. Is it possible for this to have been Ian?” 

“Oh my God,” Miss Letder breathes. “It’s possible, yes. Though I and the rest of the family refused to have anything to do with him many years ago, Alexander harbored a soft spot for him. Kept trying to get him into rehab, posting bail—things like that.” There is a knock on the door, and Agent Shaw introduces herself. 

“A transcript of the texts,” Shaw says, handing Kate a sheet of paper. Kate shows it to Leah. 

(917) 652-8423 at 5:58 A.M.: Hey, Alex, it’s Ian. I’m in trouble. Can u meet me at Crossgroves Park? 

(917) 828-6431 at 5:59 A.M.: Yeah, be there in 20 

“That’s not Ian,” Leah says, looking up at the federal agent, the detective, and the writer clustered around her. “Ian always called Alexander ‘Lex’ since we were kids. Like ‘Lex Luthor.’ It was a…thing…between them.” 

Agent Avery knocks. “We’ve got video, and a plate. Tracked it to a location in the Bronx; it’s still there on the current feed.” 

“Let’s go,” Shaw replies, leaving Kate and Castle to explain the situation to Leah. The woman reacts with the 

appropriate worry and denial, and with assurances to inform her of any new developments Kate shows her to the break room to get something to eat or drink. Some kind person has dropped off donuts, and though she doesn’t really want one Castle forces it into her hand. 

“You have to eat,” he says in an undertone. “Consider it breakfast.” She knows he wants her to regain her strength and some weight back, but during a case doesn’t seem like the best time to be thinking about it. She takes a bite to satisfy him and then walks back to the war room holding the remainder in her right hand at her side. 

There’s nothing much to do as they wait for word from Shaw, and even that is long in coming. An hour slips by with nothing happening but Ryan and Esposito showing up within minutes of each other. 

“Hey, Beckett,” Espo says. “Should’ve known you would be here so early.” She explains to him and then to Ryan where they are in the case, but after that there’s nothing much to do but sit and wait. And pick at her donut. 

When Gates arrives, Kate can tell she’s surprised to find the war room so inactive. All the feds but one have left to participate in what may be the final capture. Esposito and Ryan brief her on their progress and she goes back to her office after orders to keep her in the loop. Castle excuses himself briefly to take a call from Gina and returns with the news that they will have to pick up a corrected-in-red paper copy of Heat Rises from his publisher on their way home. 

Then, finally, Kate’s cell phone rings. “Beckett,” she says, hoping for the best but waiting for the worst. 

“We got him.” Shaw’s voice is full of contented satisfaction. “He’s in booking at our field office, and with the help of Neme and Letder, we’ve got a multitude of charges that will stick. We’ve put Letder in a secure ward of St. John’s, so you can inform his sister of that. He’s not too bad off.” 

“Good,” Kate says uncertainly, slightly put off. “Did you find out why Sandler and Dubose were kidnapping Labaque employees?” 

“Sorry, Beckett,” Shaw says, not sounding all that apologetic. “Got word from my director—“ The elevator doors open and Shaw walks through, pulling her cell away from her ear and continuing the conversation face to face without so much as a pause. “—we’re not allowed to disseminate any more information, even to the NYPD. But hey, we caught the guy. It’s a win.” 

Kate nods, unconvinced, but has to let it go. Working with Shaw, she almost forgot they were FBI, but in the end, this—a slap-in-the-face reminder. Similarly disgruntled, Ryan and Esposito leave to inform Gates and Leah of the case’s closure. Gates returns within a few seconds to shake Shaw and Avery’s hands. Then she turns to Beckett, hawk-eyes set and unyielding. “Detective Beckett,” Gates addresses her. “Understand that if you set foot in my precinct again without passing evaluations, I will reject your badge once and for all.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And you, Mr. Castle. If I see you in here again before Detective Beckett is back on active duty, I will have you charged with interference in a police investigation. Am I understood?” 

“Yes.” Kate thinks Castle looks a little cowed, but knowing him he’ll bounce back as soon as they step outside. 

Gates points one long, sinister finger at the elevator doors, her meaning unmistakable. 

Kate nods, murmurs bye to Espo, and heads for the exit. “Detective Beckett, maybe you and I could have that chat?” Agent Shaw suggests. “I’ve got a few hours off after completing this one.” 

“Sure,” she replies. The elevator doors close with just the three of them inside. “Castle, can you take the car home? You can stop at Black Pawn on the way. I’ll get a cab.” 

His eyes ask ‘are you sure?’ but his mouth forms different words. “Okay, see you later.”

“Sharing a car,” Shaw comments in an odd, teasing voice once they’re out on the sidewalk. “I told you he cares about you, Kate. Is it still complicated?”

“Infinitely so,” Kate replies. They sit down in a nearby café and a young woman takes their order. Coffee for both of them.

“So, how’s it going?” Shaw asks her. 

“It’s...okay.” 

“The first three months are the hardest,” Shaw agrees. At Kate’s questioning look, she taps her left shoulder just below the bone. “Two rounds here. Had to get ‘em dug out in a hospital, two months of mandatory recuperation. Sound familiar?” 

“All too much,” Kate says drily.

“The PTSD’s a bitch too,” Shaw says. 

“Yeah.” The conversation pauses as the waitress returns with their coffees. Though decaffeinated, the acrid taste of hers helps rejuvenate Kate anyway. “How did you get over it? I mean, how did you get back to your job?” Talking with Dr. Burke is one thing, but talking with someone who’s lived through it, who has a job and problems just like her own has no substitute. 

“I had a good support system,” Shaw replies. “For me, that was my husband and my little daughter. For you, unless I’m mistaken, that’s Castle. The thing that’s hardest to understand is that the scar is never going to go away. It’s a part of you. The trick is not letting it control you, and instead turning it into an asset.” 

“What do you mean?” Kate asks. “How is PTSD anything but a hindrance to our jobs?” 

“It is,” Shaw clarifies, “but with a good therapist, you can get past it. It’ll make you stronger. My dad used to tell me as a little girl that every experience I had was just that—an experience, and thus invaluable. Everything is an opportunity to learn. Experiences help connect people; people bond over them. You will have experienced the trauma that your witnesses have gone through. It’ll give you empathy for them, and they’ll trust you for it. Though it may not look like it currently, if you keep the right mindset, it’ll make you an even better cop than you are now. It was hard for me to go through, it was hard for my family to go through, but I came out a better agent for it.” 

“I think…I understand,” Kate replies. “Any advice on getting there?” 

Shaw gives her a half-smile, a knowing smile. “Don’t rush through it. Deal with each aspect one step at a time. There’ll be people in your life—your therapist, Castle, the rest of your team, I don’t know which— who’ll expect you to recover quickly and shake it off. There’ll be those who say you’re taking on too much, that you should slow down so as not to be overwhelmed. Listen to them, but listen to yourself more. To get through this, you really need to know who you are, why you do what you do. Know and trust in your own strength, but have no delusions about what you yet can’t handle.” Agent Shaw takes a sip of coffee. “I know your history, Kate. I do my research on every officer I have to work with, and you have proven the most resilient of them all. I have no doubt that you will get through this and come out the better for it.” 

Kate smiles. “Thanks, Jordan.” 

Chapter Text

Kate can’t help but notice how Castle breathes a sigh of relief when he opens the door and sees her there, back at his loft safe and sound. Apparently her going off on her own—even on her own accompanied by a federal agent—makes him more nervous than he’s admitted. 

“How was it?” Castle asks curiously.

“Good, talking with her was nice.” Kate tries to smile but is interrupted by a massive yawn. “Alexis here?” 

“No, when I got here I found a note on the table. Ice cream sundaes with Ashley.” She steps past the threshold into the loft as he continues. “You just missed my mother by a few minutes,” he informs her. “Apparently she has a new boyfriend, which is why she hasn’t been around much. Gary Bertlam. If you had access to the precinct I’d ask you to run him through a background check.” 

“Have Ryan do it,” Kate suggests, hanging her coat on the rack. It had been nice in the wee hours of the morning, but by the time the case was done it was sweltering. 

“Nah, no need. Ever since her previous husband absconded with all of her savings, she’s been pretty careful about that herself.” 

Kate heads for the bedroom. “Are you going to nap with me?” she asks, kicking her shoes off and running a hand through her hair. 

“No, I actually slept last night,” Castle replies cheekily.

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, then, what are you doing in the bed?” 

He holds up a tablet and headphones from under the covers. “I’m gonna watch a movie,” he says like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

“Castle, I’m just taking a nap. It’s broad daylight; I’ll be fine. Go watch it using your big screen and subwoofer and surround sound.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes. Besides, it’s summer and kinda hot to be sleeping together during the day.” He looks at her and she bites her own tongue. “Just…go watch your movie.” 

When she wakes, it’s not because she’s refreshed and rejuvenated, but more because it’s too hot in the bedroom. She sits up with a yawn, noting the closed door to keep out the sound and the slight reverberations she can still hear through it. Kate zombie-shuffles to the door and out into the living room to see Castle and Alexis sitting on the couch together, mesmerized by the glowing screen. Though she doesn’t turn to look, she can hear something explode behind her. 

“Hey,” her partner greets her. He holds out a big bowl. “Popcorn?”

“No thanks,” she says, taking a seat next to him on the other side of the couch. She analyzes the movie for a few seconds, then asks, “Why are you watching Thor?”

“Alexis and I want to see Captain America the day it comes out,” Castle explains. “We’re rewatching the rest of them as well in preparation for The Avengers next year.”

“I’ve promised to come home from college to see it with him,” Alexis adds, eyes sparkling. “You wanna come?”

Kate smiles. “Sure, if I don’t have a case. I would love to.” 

Alexis grins, returning her attention to the movie, and Kate settles down to watch the last twenty minutes with them. Something brushes against her and she flinches automatically before realizing it’s just Castle tracing his thumb across the back of her hand. When it’s not unexpected, it’s comforting, actually. 

When the movie’s over, Castle whips up pasta and Alexis bakes brownies. Kate offers to help but is quickly denied by them both, leaving a slightly bitter taste in her mouth. Instead she settles for distributing the plates and forks and keeping them company as they cook. She asks Alexis about college, and their conversation about Stanford keeps them going all the way to dessert, brownies à la mode. They’re putting the silverware in the dishwasher when the door handle clicks and Martha announces her arrival. “Richard, I’m home!” 

“Not staying out all night tonight, Mother, I see,” Castle says, giving Kate an amused look. 

Martha takes in the entire loft in one sweeping glance and then approaches Kate, who’s standing awkwardly at the sink. “Hello, Martha,” she greets her. 

“Katherine, it’s a delight to see you up and about,” the older woman gushes. “It’s our pleasure to have you stay here, so don’t you worry about a thing!” 

“Thanks, Martha,” Kate smiles, for once in her life a little bit shy around her.

“Well, I’m beat,” the older woman declares. “Alexis, don’t forget I’m taking you shopping tomorrow, no?” 

“I remember,” Alexis grins. Martha pats her head before leaping up the staircase, heels clacking on the wood. Kate tries unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, which Castle picks up on automatically. 

“Bed?” he asks. It’s more of a suggestion, but a welcome one. She nods. “Okay, I’ll be there in a second. Just gotta finish wiping down this pan.” 

“’kay. Goodnight, Alexis.” 

“Goodnight, Kate!” Alexis replies cheerily. Kate walks to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her and flicking on the light. It’s marginally cooler in here than before, but needless to say she won’t be cuddling up in Castle’s warmth tonight. After washing her face and scrubbing her teeth with a toothbrush, she dresses in her sleepwear and sits on the bed to wait for him. 

It occurs to her how much she likes this room. The spaciousness of it, as well as the way she can see everything from her spot leaning up against the headboard. Nobody could hide from her in this room, not even under the bed—Castle’s got so much stuff under there, a mouse wouldn’t even be able to crawl around inside. It makes her feel safe, perched there surveying it all without having to wonder whether someone with a gun could be hiding in some nook or cranny. And then remind herself that she’s safe here. And still not quite believe her own words. 

No, it’s much better this way. 

There’s a clatter from the kitchen, and the sudden sound makes her jump, her heart pound, her muscles clench. For a moment the bedroom is sucked away, replaced with a vivid, vibrant cemetery. The greens are extra green, the tombstones too bright of a white to look out without scorching her corneas, the stripes of the flag so red they could be dripping blood, and the sniper’s gun black as an abyss. 

“This isn’t real,” she whispers to herself, but it seems very real. Very, very real. There’s a crack like a gunshot —no, it is a gunshot—and a piercing, digging pain in her chest. His words come rushing back into her mind amid the agony—“Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate.” 

With a shudder, she returns to the bedroom to find the bedspread clenched in her hands. She frustratedly wipes the salt water off her cheeks with two swipes of the back of her hands and forces herself to concentrate on something else. Castle. Why isn’t he here yet? Kate pushes herself off the bed and towards the door, stopping a few inches away. She can hear low, distressed voices outside. Against her better judgment, she twists the door handle slowly, quietly, and opens it a crack. “I just don’t trust—“ Alexis is saying. 

“It’s not about trust, Alexis. There’s always a risk when we let anyone into our lives.” Castle. Kate frowns slightly. She knows she shouldn’t be listening, that it’s a private conversation, but she’s already hooked. “She’s can’t just be alone. She needs this. And we should respect that. So don’t say anything to her unless there’s a real reason, okay, Alexis?” A cold pit is opening in her stomach. 

“Yeah, Dad, okay,” Alexis agrees, but Kate can hear the reluctance in her voice as plain as day. They’re not… they’re not talking about her, are they? She would have fallen through the doorway as Castle yanked open the door had he not caught her on the other side. She clutches at his arm to regain her footing, heart thumping wildly. 

“Kate! What are you doing?” he asks, perplexed. 

“I—I was just coming to check on you,” she says, hoping her almost-face-plant will explain her stutter at the beginning of that sentence. 

“You okay?” he asks worriedly, hands on her shoulders to steady her.

“Yeah,” she says, turning away and pulling him gently inside. “What was that about?” “I broke a dish,” he replies. 

“No, not that. You and Alexis...” Kate trails off.

He sighs. “Oh, you heard that?”

Kate nods, not daring to meet his blue eyes. “Was it…was it about me?” 

There’s a deafening pause, during which Kate keeps her eyes trained directly downward. His bedspread has ever been so interesting before. “No,” Castle says forcefully, surprise evident in his voice. She looks up. “That’s what you thought? Oh, no, Kate—it wasn’t about you at all.” 

“Sorry, I just thought…I mean, from what I heard…” Kate feels slightly embarrassed about her jump to conclusions. 

Castle sighs, sitting down on the bed next to her. “How much did you hear?” 

“Just the last bit. Something about inviting new people in always being a risk and you telling Alexis not to say anything.” 

“We weren’t talking about you, Kate,” Castle promises. She dips her head; she understands that now. “We were…we were talking about Gary.” 

“Martha’s new boyfriend?” It’s Kate’s turn to be surprised. “That’s the one. Alexis is worried he’s just using her.” 

“How so?” Kate asks. “If you…don’t mind me asking.” 

“No, it’s okay, Kate. While you’re living here, we’re treating you like family. I can see you becoming family someday. Don’t be afraid to ask those questions.” Kate pretends his casual mention of her ‘becoming family’ doesn’t send a spear of claustrophobic panic as well as a joyful excitement shooting through her. There’ll be time to sort through those confused emotions later. So instead she just nods, and gifts him a hint of a smile. Castle takes a deep breath. “Gary is a big World War II aficionado. You know, knows all the facts by heart— well, not all of them, no one can know them all, but you know what I mean—and apparently he wrote this screenplay set on D-Day, and she wants me to critique it.” 

“So Alexis is worried he’s only using her to get to you.” 

“Well, in all honesty, I am too. But we can’t say anything—“ 

“—without upsetting her,” Kate finishes for him. “What’re you going to do?” 

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “I guess I’ll sleep on it.” He pulls back the covers to the bed and she climbs under them. “You going to be able to sleep tonight after your siesta this afternoon?” 

“Wasn’t that long,” Kate replies. “It was too hot.” 

“Oh, yeah, sorry about the temperature,” Castle says. “Alexis is really into being green, so minimal air conditioning most days. I’ll adjust it tomorrow because, you’re right, it’s borderline uncomfortable.” 

She hums her thanks, snuggling under the covers and shutting her eyes to try to fall asleep before it gets too hot. “Night.” 

Despite being in bed with Kate, Castle’s dreams are far from peaceful that night. Not for the first time since her shooting, he’s back in that hangar. Only this time’s different. It’s like he’s watching events unfold from a distance, outside of his body, powerless to change any of them. “And now they’re coming,” Montgomery says to Kate, voice full of conviction and bitter regret. “I need you to leave. They are coming to kill you, and I’m not gonna let them. I’m gonna end this.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, sir,” Kate answers back forcefully. 

“Yes, you are. Castle! Get her out of here.” Castle can see himself do a double-take, and then realize exactly why Montgomery brought him here. “Don’t argue. That’s why I called you. Get her out of here, now!” Montgomery shouts. 

Kate’s begging him, the tears making their initial appearance. “Captain, please, just listen to me. You don’t have to do this.” 

His own hushed word, “Kate.” 

But she pays no attention to him, only to her captain in that panicked, pleading voice. One he never wants to hear again, because hearing her so helpless and distraught tears at his heartstrings like nothing else. 

“No. Please, no. Sir. I forgive you. I forgive you.”

“This is my spot, Kate,” Montgomery tells her, unwavering in his resolve. “This is where I stand.” 

“No. No!” 

“Castle,” Montgomery says. Something passes between their old captain and the other-Castle—trust, understanding, a promise. A promise to take her out of this hangar, a promise to never let her burn herself out again. A promise to do his best to protect her, now that Montgomery will be gone. 

“No…no. Sir, please. Listen to me. You don’t have to do this,” she’s still pleading, willing to say anything and do anything to stop him from sacrificing himself. She can’t stand to lose him, no matter what his role in her mother’s death was; he can see it in her eyes. 

“Castle, get her out of here now!” Montgomery’s shout is accompanied by the headlights of a black car pulling into the hangar. 

“You don’t have to. Please, sir.” 

“Kate,” the other-Castle warns before scooping her up under the arms, lifting and carrying her towards the side exit. She’s nearly screaming bloody murder, but he doesn’t let her go no matter how many times her feet connect with his shins or ankles. “Plea—no! God, Castle, let me go! No! Let go! PLEASE! NO!” He doesn’t release her until he’s pressed her up against a car out back, using his bulk to immobilize her, to keep her in place. His hand covers her mouth, trying to silence her as gunshots ring out from the hangar. 

He’s speaking to her throughout the ordeal, but in truth he doesn’t believe what he’s saying. In fact, he hates himself in that moment for saying it. “Shh! Shh! Please don’t. Everything’s okay. Everything’s all right.” In that brief second where she touches his face, he wakes with a jolt from the dream, still wondering whether that was an “I forgive you” or a precursor to slapping him. He’s never told her how close he was that night to letting her go, to running back into that hangar with her to try to rescue Montgomery—to hell with the consequences. He realizes he never told her how sorry he is for the events of that day. 

Castle looks over at her sleeping form, and then at the clock. It’s almost noon already? This must be the record for the longest sleep Kate Beckett’s ever had in her life. But she’s too peaceful there for him to even consider waking her up, so he slips out of bed to make breakfast. He needs to get up, walk around. Find a distraction. Get that hangar out of his head. 

After about half an hour of flipping pancakes, cutting fruit, and scrambling eggs, he returns to the bedroom to find her still fast asleep. He reaches down to touch her arm and wake her up, and it’s when his fingers first brush her skin that he realizes she’s radiating heat. Too much heat to be normal. He hurriedly sets the tray of food down on his side of the bed and gently puts a hand to her forehead. She’s burning up, and now that he’s looking for it he can see the flushed look to her cheeks like Alexis gets when she’s contracted a nastier-than- usual flu. 

“Kate,” he says, jostling her arm. “Kate!” For a minute she doesn’t stir and he’s afraid she won’t come back to consciousness. For a minute he’s back in that hospital observation room, standing next to Jim and praying to whatever deity is listening that she just open her eyes. 

Then, finally, she does, and it’s like the world starts moving again. “Castle?” she asks, but it’s more of a croak. “Wha’time is it?” 

“Late, Kate; how do you feel?” He’s all concern right now, nearly slurring his words together in his effort to get them out. 

“Uh,” is all she can manage in one huff before the coughing fit takes over, and Castle places one hand on her shoulder in a futile attempt to calm the spasms that rock her body. With his other he sweeps the stifling bedcovers off of her, not realizing until it’s already done just how much creamy skin that would reveal. Because of the heat, all she’s wearing is one overly large, long T-shirt that drapes off one shoulder and stops around where those ridiculously undersized shorts teenage girls wear do. To his credit, he rips his eyes away from her long, slender legs to focus on her eyes, which are squeezed shut with the effort of coughing. When the episode ends, she makes out, “Hurts,” with a gesture that encompasses her entire chest area. 

Thoughts and worries fill a cyclone inside his head, and he’s running a marathon chasing them all down and weighing them for merit. She’s started coughing again. Where did she get it? No, not important. What is it? Again, not right now. Her scars. The thought hits him like a splash of icy water. Could the coughing damage the still healing wounds on her chest and abdomen? 

“The hospital has a call center with an advice nurse, right?” he asks. “Yes, they do, I have their number around here somewhere.” He knows he’s talking more to himself than to Kate, as she’s currently incapable of answering. He’s thinking—panicking—out loud. “Or maybe we should contact your surgeon? No, if we need to do that they’ll connect us through the call center. Number…number…number.” He practically sprints out of the room, banging into the doorframe of his office instead of going through it, and finally getting his hands on the notebook with all the important numbers on it. 911…poison control…hospital, there we go. He dials them up before he’s even back at Kate’s side. 

To his chagrin, the call center almost immediately puts them on hold after a calm female voice informs him that for emergencies, he should go directly to the emergency room. Should they? 

“Try not to cough,” he says, holding the phone up to his ear as ‘on hold’ music plays. 

“Yeah, not really under my control,” she croaks. Another fit overtakes her, and when this one finally ends, her hand unexpectedly wraps around his wrist in a vice-like grip. “Please don’t take me back there, Castle… please don’t.” She’s begging him, and as he’s never seen Kate Beckett beg for anything besides Montgomery’s life he concludes she may even be delirious. He’s too panicked to consider why she may fear the hospital, or why she may not want to go back there with its invasive IV tubing, claustrophobic, sterile white rooms, and the utterly helpless feeling that overtakes everyone who lies in a bed there. He’s just torn between scooping her up in his arms, setting her in the passenger seat, and driving to the hospital or hoping that this infernal music in his ear will end soon so that a real professional can take control, can tell him what to do. 

She must still have some semblance of consciousness, though, because she releases him as the advice nurse finally comes on the other end. “Hello, I’m Nurse May. Please describe your situation?” 

“It’s one of your patients, Katherine Beckett,” Castle replies quickly. “She just had surgery a month ago for a bullet wound, but—“ 

“Hold on, I’m pulling her file up now,” the nurse says. He’s momentarily distracted by Kate’s fingers drumming against his wrist, and he looks down to see she’s pulled her shirt up past her stomach. There’s red seeping through her bandages. 

Castle immediately severs his connection with the nurse. “I’m calling an ambulance,” he tells her. 

“No!” she hisses. Every breath is costing her; she shouldn’t be talking. “Please no ambulance, Castle. I nearly—“ She doesn’t manage to complete her sentence but he knows her meaning anyway. And staring down at her, frail and sick as she is, he doesn’t have the heart to dial the second 1. He gently slips one arm under her chest and the other under her thighs, lifting her up from the bed that feels like it might burst into flames at any moment. He carries her like that out to the car, cradling her to his body. Somewhere along the way her eyes close again, and her forehead is pressed limply against the passenger side window as he peels away from the curb. 

He doesn’t even have to say anything to the people working the emergency room, the sight of her sagging against him in this state is enough for them to run for a stretcher, which he quickly unloads her onto. They whisk her away on greased wheels with him running along behind, thinking grimly that he’s done this once before. 

And that time, the last time she was here, Kate Beckett died. 

Chapter Text

Castle’s mind is in a state of panic as he follows them through the maze of hallways until one of the men in scrubs turns around and places a hand on his chest, effectively stopping him short. Kate disappears around a corner, and it’s all Castle can do not to just bowl the man over and keep going. He fixes on the man’s eyes, trying to calm himself. Panicking won’t do any good. 

“Sir, it would be better if you waited outside,” the man told him. “We need to assess her condition, maybe you can help with that. What’s her name, and has she had any medical procedures recently?” 

“No, you don’t understand, she was a patient here a month ago,” Castle says, voice a note higher than usual. “Her name is Kate Beckett; she’s in your system. She had surgery to remove a bullet that nicked her heart, and she was in a coma for hours—there’s blood seeping through right now—!” 

The male nurse cuts him off right there, having heard enough. “Okay, follow me.” The man jogs after the gurney, calling to his colleagues. “I need the patient moved to a private room in the main sector and a file for Beckett, Kate pulled up, stat! I want her surgeon contacted and en route and I want her stabilized before he arrives.” The three people pushing the gurney nod and take a sharp swerve into the large elevator, but he and the nurse are forced to wait for the next one over to arrive. “My name is Earl Bates, and you can call me Earl because everybody does. Ms. Beckett is in good hands, I assure you, and we’re doing everything we can to get her situated. It would help, though, if you could answer some questions. Do you think you can do that?” 

“Yeah, yeah, anything,” Castle breathes, mind whirling as they step inside the metal box. “Okay. Do you remember the name of her surgeon?” 

“Yes, Dr. Kovaks,” Castle supplies readily, anxious for the next query before the answer’s even left his mouth. Anything he can do to help. Anything he can do that will distract from the mounting fear in his heart, anything that will make this feeling of inadequacy go away. 

“All right, I’ll page him,” Earl says. The elevator dings and the doors slide open to reveal another hallway with white-washed walls that looks eerily similar to the first. 

“Earl, Katherine Beckett is in room 741 and I’m sending her file to the station there now,” a nurse reels off from a computer terminal to their right. 

“Good. Contact Dr. Kovaks; he was her surgeon.” 

“Doing it.” 

Earl leads him down the hallway and through several left turns before arriving at a room marked 741 with a small blue placard. The shades on the window looking inside are drawn, leaving it up to Castle’s overactive imagination about what’s going on inside. “I have to get in there,” Earl tells him. “Lynette will come ask you a few more questions in a second, but we need you calm and out of the way so we can do our jobs. We’ll inform you as soon as we know something, okay?” 

“Okay,” Castle barely says before the man rushes into the room in a blur of periwinkle hospital scrubs. There’s a chair a few feet away and Castle sinks down into it, exhausted and emotionally spent. Less than a minute later the nurse from before walks up and sits down next to him with a clipboard. “You brought in Miss Beckett today, yes?” she asks. He confirms it with a silent nod. “All right. Your name?” 

“Richard Castle.” 

She writes that down and then checks it with something underneath the form she’s filling out. “...yes, it looks like you’re on her emergency contact list. Along with a Jim Beckett and a Lanie Parish.” 

“I’ll call them once we’re through here,” Castle says. In the chaos, he has to admit he hadn’t given one thought to Jim. 

“Okay. What is your relationship with the patient?” 

“She’s my...girlfriend. And partner, at the NYPD.” 

“Are you currently living together?”

“Yes,” Castle replies. 

“That’s good. Can you tell me about her health before this happened?” 

“Yeah, she was, um, getting better. Improving, gaining her strength back. But then this morning she slept in really late and was really hot. When I woke her up she started coughing uncontrollably. We tried calling the advice nurse but before we could get off hold she noticed she was starting to bleed through the bandages on her stomach, so I drove her directly here.” 

“What about the night before? Any symptoms?”

“She did complain about it being overly hot.”

“So perhaps a fever. Tell me about her eating and sleeping habits.” 

“Before her shooting she used to be really bad about both, but afterwards I made sure she ate enough and got enough rest. Except…except for yesterday; yesterday she was up for at least twenty-four hours straight. She couldn’t sleep.” 

“Any particular reason why that you can name?” 

“We had just returned to the precinct. We were supposed to be meeting up with some friends for lunch, but we accidentally got caught up in a kidnapping case instead. Kate had a flashback and insisted on seeing the case through even though she’s not on duty because she said she wouldn’t feel safe if she didn’t. The man held a gun to a hostage’s head right in front of her when she was all alone, so with her PTSD…” 

“Okay, stress and lack of sleep,” the nurse jots it down. “Dr. Kovaks is in surgery right now, but if he doesn’t finish within the hour we’ll contact one of the other surgeons in our department.” An unbidden, yet fervent, hope that Josh Davidson isn’t working today worms its way into his head. 

“Okay, thank you,” Castle says, as the nurse stands. 

“We’ll tell you when we’ve got her stabilized, or if there’s any change. I’ve got to input this into the computer, but why don’t you make those calls?” she suggests. He acquiesces, taking out his phone and finding Jim Beckett’s number in it. He’ll call Jim, but not Lanie. Not yet. Not until he knows more, not until he can give a definite ‘she’s gonna be okay.’ Castle doesn’t want Lanie rushing over here in tears, because if he sees her like that it’ll be just like the aftermath of Kate’s shooting all over again—especially if she brings Esposito and Ryan with her. 

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Jim Beckett. Please leave a message.” Beep. 

Great, Castle thinks. There’s a long pause before he can formulate what he wants to say in a voicemail, only having prepared for talking over the phone. That would have been hard enough. “Hi, uh, Jim. It’s me, Rick.” He has to stop there, again, because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He almost said that Jim should call him back as soon as he gets a chance, but Castle’s phone will be on silent or at the very least vibrate while at the hospital, and wild dogs couldn’t drag him away from her side. He doesn’t want Jim to call, and then he not hear it and not pick up. So, instead, he’s forced to go all in. He tries to say it as un - terrified-out-of-my-mind-for-your-daughter’s-life as possible, but there’s no good way to deliver this news. He also knows if it were Alexis, he’d want the information quickly, and he wouldn’t care how it came. “We’re at the hospital. Again. Kate and I. There was, uh…she had a fever and she started coughing, and I think she must have busted her chest wound, because she started bleeding through the bandages. I’ll call you again as soon as I have any new information, but they’re stabilizing her now. We’re in Room 741.” As an afterthought, “Bye.” 

The nurses don’t leave him waiting in the dark long, but he sees two of them leave the room and a doctor enter it before Earl comes out to talk to him. “How is she?” Castle demands straight off. 

Earl gives him a smile, which Castle takes as a good sign. “We’ve stabilized her and hooked her up to an IV. Dr. Mayer patched up her incisions, and she’s now getting a low dosage of sedative to try to keep the coughing to a minimum. He’s just finishing up inside, if you want more details. You’re free to go in, but no more than one visitor at a time. Maybe two if you’re quiet.” Castle nods his understanding and Earl opens the door for him. He steps inside, immediately locking onto Kate in the bed in the left corner of the small room. Unlike last time, she’s not pale—in fact, she’s at the other end of the spectrum, with flushed cheeks that almost make her look sunburned. 

“You must be Mr. Castle,” the doctor says, extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Mayer.” Castle shakes it. “It’s nice to meet you. How bad is it?” 

The doctor gives a half-shrug. “It could have been much worse. Since you got her in here so quickly and we were able to get the coughing under control, the damage done to the incisions just under her ribcage and on her left side were minimal. Simply put, she tore the topmost layer of delicate new skin, and that’s what caused the bleeding. Because it’s not very deep, it won’t take very long to heal.” Castle nods, distracted slightly by the heart rate monitor, which is going at a slightly faster tempo than he would have thought normal. 

“What about the fever and coughing? What caused those?” 

“We think she was probably exposed to the flu somewhere along the way, and she contracted it,” the doctor says. “Except for the complications of coughing, it would have passed like a normal sickness and been nothing to worry particularly about.” 

“We’re together all the time. Am I going to get sick too?” If they’re both out, then they’ll have to find someone else to help out. Change bandages and such. 

“Most likely you were exposed at the same time she was, but it’s difficult to tell if you will express any symptoms. You could have an immunity, or be able to fight it off more easily because your body is not healing a bullet wound or running with deficient sleep. It’s also possible that you will get sick, and it’s just taking a longer time for symptoms to manifest.” 

Castle nods again. “Is she asleep?” 

“Yes, and she should probably stay that way until tomorrow morning. Then we can try dialing back the sedatives and see how she responds, whether the coughing returns as violently.” The doctor taps his clipboard. “I have to go attend to my other patients, but I’ll be back later. For now, just sitting with her won’t be an issue. If you need anything, Lynette will be right outside and she’ll be the one checking in and adjusting things if need be every half hour.” 

“Thank you,” Castle says sincerely. The doctor gives him a smile, another handshake, and exits the room. Castle’s eyes alight on a stool in the corner of the room, and he rolls it over next to her bed. He snakes his hand underneath the covers to find hers, covered with tape and tube though it is. He’s careful not to dislodge anything as he slips his hand underneath hers. It’s still unnaturally hot, but he thinks not as much as before. That’s a good sign. 

After a little while he tires of just watching her sleep and starts brushing back her hair, adjusting stray locks and smoothing it down, and eventually moves on to caressing her cheeks, her face. Something he wouldn’t dare to do while she’s awake, but asleep... His fingers trace over the ridge of her brow, of her nose, the soft curve of her chin. For a moment he thinks she’s surfacing from the drugs, but she merely shifts in position and doesn’t open her eyes, although they wander under her eyelids. He wonders if she’s dreaming, and if so, what about. Hopefully nothing traumatic. 

He nearly jumps when his phone vibrates in his pocket, and his hands retreat back to himself as he pulls it out and answers it. He’s expecting Jim, so the high-pitched shriek of a voice Alexis is using on him makes him jump yet again. His arm bangs into the IV stand and he has to grab it guiltily to make sure it doesn’t fall over. The nurse isn’t in the room right now, luckily. 

“Dad! Dad! Are you okay? Where are you? Gram and I got home and you weren’t here, and there’s blood on your sheets! Dad?” Castle mentally kicks himself for not leaving a note, but in his defense they’d been in a hurry to get out of there. He honestly hadn’t noticed that an of the blood had soaked into the bed—time for new sheets, he supposes—but then again, Kate had only showed him the bleeding under her ribcage; who knew how long her side may have been bleeding without either of them noticing. 

“Alexis, calm down, we’re okay,” Castle tells her in the most soothing voice he can muster. It helps that his own panic has faded away as he’s sat by Kate’s side, watching her breathe and listening to the steady beeping of the heart monitor. “Kate’s sick, and her coughing busted the wounds on her side open again, so that’s where the blood came from. I drove her to the hospital. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to leave a note.” 

“Oh,” he can hear Alexis exhale a sigh of relief, “oh, I’m glad nothing’s seriously wrong. You scared us. A lot.” 

“Sorry,” Castle apologizes. “So I’m going to stay here for a while; maybe they’ll let me sleep in a chair here or I might have to play my famous author card for them to let me stay past visiting hours, but either way I won’t be home tonight. She’s under sedation now, but she’ll probably wake up tomorrow morning. Stay home with Gram or go out with Ashley, but don’t worry too much about us, okay?” 

“Okay,” she says, and he can hear her smile in her voice. 

“I love you, pumpkin.”

“I love you too.”

“Say hi and sorry to Mother for me.” 

“Will do. Bye, Dad.” She hangs up, but Castle lingers, fingering the phone for a few seconds longer. He probably should call Lanie, if only to apprise her on the situation. He doesn’t want a repeat of last time at the Old Haunt, where he got a rather unpleasant yelling-at from both Lanie and Esposito for keeping them in the dark so long. 

He dials her number and explains what happened, receiving sighs and other breathy, worded exclamations at his story. When she’s up to date, the first question out of her mouth is, “Do you want me to come over there as soon as I get off shift?” 

“No, we’re good here, Lanie,” Castle replies. “Tell Esposito and Ryan too, but I’ve called Jim and I’m planning on spending the night here anyway. Thanks for your concern, Lanie.” 

“Let us know if either of you need anything,” Lanie says. “I’d hate to think that all of this happened because we wanted to meet for lunch and she got caught up in that case. Javi spent all last night complaining that Karpowski sneezed and coughed all over his desk. We wanted to meet at the precinct; we should have known that wasn’t a good idea.” 

Castle frowns. “No, don’t blame yourselves. It’s no one’s fault, and there were a lot of factors at play here.”

“I guess you’re right, writer-boy,” she sighs.

“Are you ever going to quit calling me that?”

“And what am I supposed to call you instead, ‘kitten’?” 

“Kate told you about that?” The indignation is clear in his voice.

“Kate tells me a lot of things, not the least of which is that. So what’s it gonna be?” 

“Writer-boy,” Castle says in a small voice. “Writer-boy is fine.” In his mind’s eye, he can see her rolling her eyes on the other end. 

“Night, Castle.” 

His conversations with Lanie are always…interesting. Not Perlmutter-interesting—that is to say, insulting—but interesting all the same. She’s stubborn and spunky, and she does whatever she wants to do and doesn’t let anyone else dictate her decisions. He admires her for that, but that same spunkiness leads to undesirable yet unshakeable nicknames. When he and Lanie talk alone, she’s either ribbing him, giving him advice about Beckett, or something awful has happened and they’re commiserating together. Out of those three, he decides the playful ribbing she gives him really isn’t that bad. 

When Nurse Lynette returns around nine o’clock, Castle’s only gotten up from his seat once to stretch his legs, and he asks if he can stay the night. She doesn’t even bat an eye, just gives him an extra blanket and checks Kate’s bandages. After she leaves, Castle kisses Kate’s forehead, engulfing himself in the sweet cherry scent that he associates with her. “I love you, Kate,” he whispers. And then the door bursts open, breaking their moment. His moment, she’s still fast asleep. Jim walks quickly inside, face ashen at the sight of Kate in the bed. Castle immediately stands to give Jim the chair, blanket pooling around his ankles. He picks it up from the floor and sets it to the side. 

“Hey, Jim,” Castle says. 

“How is she?” Her father’s face is pinched, tight with worry. 

“She’s going to be fine. They’re going to wake her up tomorrow.” 

Jim looks at him seriously. “I’m glad you were there, Rick. If I’d lost her…again…I don’t know what I would have done.” 

Castle nods. “Always.” He clears his throat. “I...I love her.” 

Jim gives a watery chuckle. “I can tell.” 

“I’m gonna go get something to eat,” Castle decides on the fly. “I’ll give you two the room...” 

“Thanks, Rick. Sorry I didn’t get your call sooner, I was tangled up in court all day.” 

Castle nods, heading for the door. He pauses before opening it. “Jim?” 

“Yeah?” The older man looks up from Kate at him expectantly, and Castle swallows hard. 

“Do you remember when we were both here last time, in the observation room just after the surgery had been completed?” 

“Of course. Can’t get it out of my mind.” 

“Well, I said Kate wasn’t scared of anything, and you told me, ‘Not by a long shot.’ I’ve seen what you meant more since then, but… When I was on hold for the advice nurse, she—she grabbed my wrist, looked me in the eyes, and begged me not to take her back here.” Castle pauses. “She was so, so desperate, terrified of coming back to the hospital. Did I…did I do the right thing? I mean, there were probably other options, or…” He trails off. 

“You did the right thing, Rick,” Jim assures him. Looking into the man’s eyes, Castle’s relieved to see not a shred of doubt in them. “You saved my daughter’s life. Again. And when Katie wakes up, I am absolutely sure she’ll tell you the same thing herself.” 

“Thanks.” Castle looks down at his feet, slightly embarrassed about his insecurity over this.

Jim Beckett walks over and gives him a hug, clapping him on the back. “No, thank you. For everything.” 

Chapter Text

The first thing she is aware of isn’t the strong antiseptic smell of the hospital. It’s not even the steady beep, beep, beep that emanates from something that’s altogether too close to her ear. It’s the deep breathing of some sort of gigantic creature. A fire-spewing dragon, perhaps. That would explain why everything around her is so hot. 

It’s a moment later that she realizes the world is enveloped in darkness, a maroon color of sorts, and that she has no control over her arms and legs. She should be panicking, but... Her mind feels too calm and languid to engage in such a reaction. 

Am I dead? she wonders briefly with the same airy tone as someone wondering whether their sandwich is turkey or tuna. The soul-crushing fear that follows that pondering dissipates quickly as she decides that a) death should be more than floating immobile in a sea of reddish black, and b) she doesn’t remember dying, or anything close to that. The light grating, grinding sound is still present, fading in and out in a regular pattern. 

It’s oddly peaceful here, in this unchanging little world. She’s not afraid, or worried, or even stressed. For some reason, she treats it like it’s some sort of blessing, or miracle, like she doesn’t normally feel like this. She’ll enjoy it while it lasts. 

All of a sudden, the grinding noise stops, and there’s a moment of silence before a babble takes its place. Then she’s sliding down a long tunnel, a rushing sensation encompassing her entire body. The fuzziness, like a blanket, lifts from her mind and she finds her fingers responsive again. Her eyelids feel sticky opening, but they do, exposing her to a shocking white light. She blinks, squinting at a dark blob above her. 

“The dosage must have been reduced too much,” someone says. “She’s coming ‘round a bit early.” 

“Is…is that a bad thing?” questions the person at her side, and he squeezes her hand. Castle. 

“Not at all,” the man replies. “This means her body’s stronger than we thought, to wear through the drugs this quickly. It’s a good sign, Mr. Castle.” 

“Kate? Kate, can you hear me?” She gazes at her partner dumbly, waiting for his face to come into focus. All that calm is nearly obliterated by the overwhelming need to stare into his deep blue eyes again. “Earl, why isn’t she saying anything? Kate?” 

“There may be a little disorientation at first; give her a minute,” the nurse answers. 

Castle reaches down and caresses her face, just under her jaw line. “Kate?” The blob shifts, as if looking around. “Where’s Jim?” 

“Mr. Beckett slipped out to get something to eat while you were asleep. He said he’d be back before it was time to wake her up.” 

Castle’s more in focus now, and she can tell when he nods. “Kate? Kate, if you can hear me, you don’t have to speak. Just tap my hand or something.” 

“Ca…stle,” she grinds out.

Relief floods his face. “Kate! Kate, how are you feeling?” 

She blinks, pausing, trying to choose the right word. Castle’s frown returns bit by bit as the seconds tick by. “Woozy,” she finally decides, eliciting a smile from Castle and a chuckle from the nurse. “Where…?” 

“The hospital,” he supplies quickly, and his grin falters. She can’t fathom why at the moment. “What happened?”

“How much do you remember?”

“Umm...” she racks her brain. “I remember coughing. And there was blood.” 

“Yes, that’s right,” Castle tells her gently. “I drove you to the emergency room, and they took you from there.” 

“Did I…did I die?” she asks. He looks shocked. 

“No, Kate, no, of course not!” He grasps her hand even tighter, a vice-like grip that cuts off circulation more than it comforts her. “Why would you even think that?!” 

“No reason,” Kate tries to brush it off. He’s still staring at her concernedly. “Kate… You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” she says. His eyes beg her to continue, but she’s saved by the bell as her surgeon and her father walk in the door. 

“Katie!” Her father hurries to her side. “Sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up, I just stepped out for a few minutes…” 

“It’s okay, Dad,” she says. 

“How’re you feeling?” Funny, everyone seems to ask that. 

“A bit dizzy, but it’s getting better,” she replies. 

“That should disappear in a few minutes, once your system completely clears itself of the sedatives,” Dr. Kovaks informs them. “How’s the pain, on a scale of one to ten?” 

“Two.” 

Dr. Kovaks smiles. “I’ll put you down for a three then.” She gives him an annoyed growl sound in the back of her throat in response. He says in an undertone to Castle, who’s standing next to him, “She wouldn’t even give me a ten with a fresh bullet hole in her chest.” 

“That sounds like her,” Castle agrees before turning back to Kate and letting his eyes sparkle at her. She resists the urge to roll her own. Barely. 

“I suppose you want to know your prognosis, Detective Beckett?” Dr. Kovaks asks, looking at her expectantly. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Well, as you haven’t coughed yet I think we have that under control. So far as your wounds go, the incision on your side fared much worse than the one located on your stomach. We’ve stitched them both up, but the side incision tore a bit deeper than the stomach, which is why it bled out so profusely. All in all, though, I don’t think you’ve done yourself much permanent harm. The scars might be a little bit rougher, but beyond that you should heal up just fine.” 

“Will it take longer?” 

“The individual cuts, yes. But if you’re referring to it delaying you getting back to your job, the answer is no. The bullet wound was the most grievous, and at most you’ve set yourself back seven to ten days on those other wounds. You still have four weeks to go before you can even try reexaminations, and I’m sure Dr. Sven wouldn’t have signed off on training of any kind until two weeks from now. Long story short, your recovery is still on track.” 

Kate can’t help the smile that blooms over her face. “Thank you.” 

“And your fever’s broken as well, so I think we just want to keep you in here another night before releasing you.” Dr. Kovaks taps his clipboard. “I’ll leave you three to talk, but try to get some rest as well. Don’t wear her out.” He directs his last statement with a friendly glare towards Castle and Jim. 

“We won’t,” her father promises. He shakes the doctor’s hand and thanks him for all he’s done. Castle offers him his seat and Jim accepts after the surgeon leaves, with Castle leaning against the wall in front of her. “Katie, I’m glad you’re okay.” She nods. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” 

“I’m not going anywhere, Dad,” she assures him. “Thank you for coming. You don’t have to stay, though, if you have to go to work...” 

“No, just a court appearance at…” his eyes drop to his watch, and he leaps out of his seat, causing her to flinch a little at the sudden movement. “—right now!” 

“It’s okay, Dad, go,” she says with the hint of an amused smile. 

“Sorry, Katie,” he says. “It was nice to see you again, Rick, although hopefully next time it’ll be under less perilous circumstances.” The door shuts behind him and she sighs, readjusting herself on the pillows. The bed is raised at the head, so it almost feels like she’s sliding downward. She supposes it’s to help with the coughing, but she doesn’t like the sensation of being perched so precariously. 

“I’ll keep you company; don’t worry,” Castle says lightly, reclaiming his stool at her bedside. “Mother and Alexis know about this—they came home and saw the blood and called me—so I’m all yours.” 

She feigns confusion. “Who’s Alexis?”

The smile drops from his face so fast it’s like a bad stop-motion movie. “What?” 

She grins. “Just kidding, sorry.” The look on his face was priceless. 

“Not funny, Kate,” he mutters. “Do you know how hard my heart is pumping right now? Honestly, amnesia is like the worst thing that could happen right now. Everything we’ve been through and every memory we’ve made—gone in a flash.” Her smile falters. “Kate, seriously! You scared me; don’t do that!” 

“Sorry,” she apologizes for real this time, directing her eyes down towards her blankets. “But, I mean, what do I have left but gallows humor?” She flicks her eyes up to meet his for just a second, but in that second a universe full of understanding passes between them. She’d said it in a mildly sarcastic tone, but that only made more prominent the fear and hurt lying beneath it. 

“Kate,” Castle says in a voice barely above a whisper. “Please tell me what’s troubling you.” She’s lost in the pools of sincerity in his eyes, in the soft, pleading tone of his voice. “Please let me in.” 

“Castle, I’m scared,” her voice breaks. “What if something like this happens again, only it’s worse next time? I can’t do anything right! I don’t have any control over my life anymore; it’s like someone’s attached me to strings and like a marionette I have to keep repeating the same mistakes over and over!” 

“Kate,” he whispers, “Why do you think this is going to happen again? It’s not going to, okay? And if it does, I’ll be right here with you. Just like always.” 

“No, Castle, you don’t understand,” she says, tears brimming at her eyelids with one escapee already making a trail down her face, “Every move I make, I end up here!” 

Castle frowns slightly, and she can tell he’s confused. “What are you talking about? Please, tell me.” He smoothes back her hair, holding onto her hand like a lifeline. 

“Castle, it’s an endless cycle. I can’t stop it. You can’t stop it. No one can.” 

“When have you been here before, Kate?” He forces her to look into his eyes. 

She chokes on her first words, but she gets them out. “I’ve been here six times before.” She barely registers the surprise on his face. “The first time, I was nineteen. It was six months after my mom died, and...I had taken to riding my motorcycle…recklessly. Weaving in and out of traffic, daredevil stunts. I wasn’t trying to kill myself; I promise you I wasn’t. I was trying to see how much the universe would take from me—how much God would take from me. And that day, I found out.” She gulps. “I was thrown from the bike, landed in a dumpster more than ten feet away. If that garbage truck had come two minutes earlier, I would have died. They took me here in an ambulance and called my father. And when he came to get me… It was the first time I had ever seen him flat-out drunk.” 

“Oh, Kate, I’m sorry,” Castle breathes. He opens his mouth to tell her that she doesn’t have to continue, but she doesn’t want to stop now. She wants him to understand this. 

“The second and third times were during my days at NYU, when I came home and couldn’t wake my father up because he was passed out from the alcohol. The third time was during my senior year, just before finals, and they told me that he had to stop drinking or his liver would be permanently damaged. I packed my bags and I left, hoping that would force him into sobriety, but I got a call a few weeks later saying I needed to come to the hospital right away. He had lapsed into a coma for a few hours. I thought I was going to lose him.” 

She has to stop there, wipe her cheeks with her un-IVed hand. “The fifth…when I was a beat cop, I had a partner who rode with me. His name was Brian Vaughan, and he was hit with a metal bat ten times before I arrived at the scene and shot the perp. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, he was supposed to be with me, but…another officer’s partner was out sick that night and he volunteered to take his place for a complaint call. I was five minutes out when he radioed for help, but by the time I got there she was already down and the man was hitting Vaughan… He died at the hospital ten hours later in ICU, and I stood in the waiting room the whole time.” 

Kate swallows, hard. “There was a reason I worked alone when you first arrived at the precinct. I believed people couldn’t be trusted to stick around, and it would be better if it were only up to me and my own self. Or maybe part of it was me believing that I was the foul ingredient, the one that got my mom killed, the one that drove my dad to drink, the one that allowed Vaughan to die. It’s irrational, I know, but that’s what I thought at the time. I didn’t want you there, Castle, because I was expecting you to leave, or, if that didn’t happen, something to make you leave. That’s why ‘always’ means so much to me, because after 1999 you’re the only one I’ve ever trusted with that word. It’s a promise, and you’re the only one I trust not to break it.” 

She pauses for a steadying breath, but pushes on determinedly. “You asked why I thought every move I make leads back here. I drove recklessly, I ended up here. After my accident, I decided to stop that—to get my life out of its downward spiral—and take responsibility, but then I was back here with my dad. We finally got him sober, and I became a cop. Vaughan was taken in an ambulance to this hospital, and I was here when he died because of that son-of-a-bitch with a baseball bat. Five years later, I looked into my mom’s case, and that got me shot. They brought me here. Then, with you, I finally decided to give it a rest: I stored away that file on my computer after Alexis came home, and this happens. It feels like I can’t do anything right. All roads lead to here.” 

“I’m so sorry, Kate,” Castle whispers, pressing his lips to her forehead. “But just remember, no matter how many times the universe takes you back to this hospital, I’ll always be there to bring you back out again. Always.” 

“Thank you.” Her voice is more of a sob than a whisper at this point. “Thank you.” 

Chapter Text

So that’s why she fears this place, Castle thinks. Her hands are clasped in his, and not-so-silent sobs are wracking her frame. He leans in to loop his arm around her thin shoulders and her head comes to rest comfortably on his shoulder. He cuddles her against him as best he can, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Luckily she doesn’t seem to expect him to say anything more. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes before she sniffles and retracts from him, breaking all contact but that of his thumb tracing patterns on the back of her hand and his fingers lightly brushing the back of her neck. The look she gives him is so...trusting, he can’t help but feel aglow when he sees it. 

“Kate, there’s something I have to tell you,” he says softly, staring down at the bedcovers. She doesn’t reply, but he can imagine her stare boring into him like a laser beam, slowly eating through his shirt and burning his skin. “It’s about your shooter and your mom’s murder. A man contacted me about it, said that Montgomery had given him a file that he was using in a deal to keep you alive. I was supposed to keep you from investigating your mom’s case.” He waits for the cry of outrage, the ‘how could you,’ but it doesn’t come. Only silence. “…Kate?” 

He chances a look up, ready for anything. A slap across the face. A ‘goodbye.’ Though it’s insanely hopeful to the point of delusion, a ‘you shouldn’t have done that, but I love you anyways.’ But no—her eyes are closed. She’s asleep. 

Castle could scream in frustration. She hadn’t heard anything he had said, and who knows when he will get the courage to admit that to her again? It could have been clean slates, for both of them. He could’ve looked to their future without this big cloud hanging over his head, reminding him that the hardest trials their relationship would ever have to go through were yet to come. But no, the universe must really hate him right now, to be so cruel. 

There’s nothing to do but wait until Kate wakes up, and as he predicted all his courage has fled by the time she does so. The “Hey,” she gives him upon opening her eyes and seeing him still there is so perky and happy that he knows she doesn’t remember a thing he said about Smith before she fell asleep. Before he can fully master the mixture of guilt, frustration, and timidity churning in his belly, there’s a quiet knock on the door, and an African American man steps inside. It takes Castle a few heartbeats to place him as Dr. Burke from the picture Kate had showed him on her computer back at the cabin. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the man says. Kate scrunches up her body to pull herself into more of a sitting position. 

“No, come in,” she replies. Her genuine surprise at his presence is written all over her face.

“I was at the hospital visiting a bedridden patient of mine when I heard you were admitted,” Burke explains. “I know your appointment’s next week, but I had an extra hour and thought you might want to talk.” 

“Um, yeah, of course,” Kate says. She looks at Castle. “Could you...give us the room?” 

Castle smiles and stands from his stool. He nods in a friendly manner to the psychiatrist as he exits into the hospital corridor. A few wrong turns later, he finds himself in the hospital waiting room standing in front of one of the many vending machines. An hour’s not enough time to visit Alexis, but it is enough to satiate the pit of hunger that’s been growing in his stomach ever since Kate fell asleep. Maybe he’ll get some editing—well, with Gina as his publisher it’s less like editing and more just following directions—done too. 

Kate watches as Dr. Burke takes the empty seat Castle previously occupied by her bed, unsure of what to say. After studying her for half a second, the psychiatrist initiates the conversation himself. “So, Kate, I see you’ve decided to move back to the city.” 

“Yes,” she confirms. “We’ve been back for a couple days now. But we’ve been living at Castle’s loft, not my apartment.” 

“Why?” She doesn’t get the reasoning behind this line of questioning, unless Dr. Burke can detect the residual fear stemming from her ordeal at the precinct. 

“Well…” Kate pauses, choosing how much to say. “Castle’s daughter likes to have him there.” He waits. “And it feels safer than my own apartment.” She anticipates his next “Why?” and just explains. “On our first day back our friends invited us out to lunch and we met them at the precinct, except there was a situation and a man took a hostage using a gun right in front of me. We got roped into the case, and an old friend from the FBI worked with us. During the time we had previously worked together, my old apartment exploded with me in it, so… After seeing her again, I didn’t really want to go home.” 

Dr. Burke looks mildly impressed. Kate guesses it’s not every day that he hears that one of his patient’s homes was blown up while she was in the shower. “That was very self-conscientious of you, Kate. Tell me more about the man and the hostage. How did you react to that?” 

She thinks back. “I couldn’t stop staring at the gun. I was shaking, gasping for breath.” 

“What about protection?” At her confused look, he clarifies, “In that moment, did you try to do anything to protect yourself? Scream, to alert others to your situation? Hide? Beg him not to shoot?” 

Kate can’t help but feel a little pride in herself. Never in a million years would she have thought of begging for her own life in that situation. “My hand did go to where my holster should be, but obviously I didn’t have my weapon on me.” 

Again with the vaguely impressed. “That’s a cop instinct you’ve retained, Kate. That’s a good sign for an easier transition back to your job. What about alerting others to your predicament?” 

“Castle came in right after, and I told him about a book he hasn’t written. I hoped he would realize something was off and warn the others, and he did.” 

“You showed extraordinary presence of mind,” Burke muses. Out of anyone else’s mouth it would have sounded like a compliment, but out of Burke’s it’s just a fact. “What do you think allowed you to ‘keep your wits about you,’ if you will, in that scenario?” 

“I’m not quite sure,” Kate frowns. “I guess because I was at the precinct, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. I’ve been trained for that; I’ve been in that position before.” 

“Do you think it also could have been the other life in danger, the life of the hostage? Do you think that played a role at all?” 

“I…I don’t think so,” Kate’s face falls slightly. “I don’t even think she registered in my mind until after.” Does that make me a bad person? she wonders. The gun hadn’t even been pointed at Kate. 

Burke seems more than content to move past that point. “In this case, my advice to you from our first session would not have been applicable. I was not expecting you to come face to face with a criminal with a gun so soon. Further encounters such as that might increase the trauma, so I would advise against returning to the precinct until you are about ready for reexaminations.” 

“Can’t anyway,” Kate tells him. “Gates banned me. But your suggestion about concentrating on who was holding the gun did I did try as I was walking into the precinct. I tried to convince myself that these were the good guys, my people, and that I had no need to fear them despite the guns I saw. There weren’t as many out and about as usual—Espo’s doing, probably—but I still caught glimpses.” 

“And did you find it useful?” 

“Somewhat,” Kate replies honestly. “With my colleagues, yes, definitely, although I realized later they weren’t even carrying. I’ve trusted them to watch my back for years, so I guess it makes sense. With the uniforms and other detectives…” She sighs. “It’s a work in progress. I didn’t have a flashback, so that much was good.” 

Burke continues to ask her questions over the next half hour: about her experiences of being back in a metropolitan area, about the dynamic between her Castle, and Alexis, and about her friends in the precinct and Lanie at the morgue. Kate in turn tells him about Shaw, whose advice he agrees with completely with the stipulation that she, again, keep in mind that PTSD was different for everybody. He also informs her that she has the best support network of any of the patients he’s ever seen, and not to discount all that they can do for her. She promises she won’t, and when the time comes for him to leave, she thanks him sincerely, noting to herself how he seems to have the same calming, relaxing effect on her as Castle does, just in a different manner. 

Her writer returns a few minutes later, and the rest of the day is spent talking and occasionally laughing and is filled with casual touches that seem to have become normal during her interlude here. Before she knows it, the night has passed as well and Dr. Kovaks is clearing her to leave. In a wheelchair, of course—hospital policy. 

Castle grins at her, offering her his hand to help her pull herself up and to the edge of the bed. “Ready to go home?” 

“Absolutely,” she smiles back at him. It doesn’t even occur to her to contest Castle’s use of the word ‘home’ in reference to the loft. It just feels right. 

Chapter Text

“Damn it,” Kate whispers. She’s seated on their bed with her shirt hiked up, revealing her midsection and the two scars that run across it. Castle hovers at her side as she fiddles with the used bandage she’s changing out from the one that runs under her ribcage. 

“You okay?” he asks concernedly. 

“Yeah, fine; the cloth just got caught on one of the stitches, that’s all,” she says as she unhooks it. The brief spike of pain fades, leaving just a smarting feeling behind. 

“You sure you don’t want me to do that?” he asks. 

“No, I got it,” she says absentmindedly, running a damp towel gently around the mostly-healed incision. “It’s been a week since we left the hospital; I can change my own bandage.” She applies a fresh piece over it and stands. “So, what’s on the slate for today?” 

“Whatever you want to do,” Castle says. 

“We could go out,” she suggests lightly. 

He looks at her, startled. “Kate...” 

“Come on, Castle,” she sighs, trying her best not to make it sound like a whine, “I’ve been cooped up in here for seven days. Seven. Days. So have you! You’ve sent Alexis grocery shopping twice and Martha once for take out! Don’t you want to go outside?” She catches his eye. “Not to someplace busy or anything, but a change of scenery would be nice. A…a picnic at Central Park!” 

“Kate, it’s a hundred and two degrees outside today.” 

“Oh. Well, the theater then. Come on, I’ll be sitting down and everything.” She has nothing on his puppy dog eyes, but she’s fairly certain she can convince him to come around. 

Castle considers it, and by the look dawning on his face she knows she’s winning. Neither of them is used to being stuck inside all day every day, and deep down she knows he’s going as stir-crazy as she is. Even Martha and Alexis have noticed, and they’re part of the reason she’s suggesting this. For Alexis to offer up her binoculars so they can people watch the apartment across the way shows just how far gone they are. 

“Okay,” he concedes. “Do you have a movie in mind?” 

“I don’t even know what’s playing in theaters right now,” Kate confesses. “Just no action movies. Avoid loud noises and guns.” 

“So like a chick flick?” Castle makes a face.

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Problem with that?” 

“No,” he replies defiantly. “For you, I would brave a documentary on the life cycle of dung beetles.” Castle grins. “Although I can’t promise I wouldn’t start snoring in the middle of it. So yes, chick flick A-okay. Can’t be worse than those Temptation Lane marathons you’ve been forcing me to watch.” 

Kate bounces out of the room and immediately regrets it as her wounds protest vociferously. She presses her arm to her stomach lightly and doesn’t let them stop her, though, glad to be getting out of the loft. 

“Whoa, where are you going?” Alexis laughs as Kate snatches up her purse from the table with one big whoosh. 

“Movie theater,” Kate answers happily. “You wanna come?” 

“Meeting Ashley,” Alexis says. 

“Another time, then,” Kate replies. She raises her voice. “Castle?” 

“Coming, coming,” he emerges from the bedroom. “Wow, I haven’t seen you this excited since…since I can’t even remember when. You’re acting like me!” 

Kate adopts a look of mock horror. “Like a nine-year-old on a sugar rush? My reputation is ruined!”

“To which reputation are you referring?” Castle teases as they exit his apartment.

“Hardass cop,” Kate laughs. “How dare you rub off on me.” She punches his arm lightly. “Stop it at once!”

It’s his turn to stick his tongue out at her and waggle his eyebrows. “You know you like it.” 

“Do not,” she mutters softly under her breath, but they’re both grinning like children. 

Kate doesn’t even know the name of the movie when they walk into the darkened theater and choose seats, as Castle had paid for the tickets and she strongly suspects he used eeny-meeny-miny-moe to select this film among the two or three with romantic-sounding titles. It’s clear once it starts that it’s pretty much your classic teenage girl-meets-slightly-older-teenage-boy love story, except the parents don’t approve and they talk about running away together. Her head is resting on Castle’s shoulder, and her right hand is intertwined with his left. 

About halfway through the movie, they’re swimming together in the girl’s backyard, and the father finds out and yells at the boy to get off his property and not bother them again. “Why in every chick flick does there have to be a scene with the girl in a bikini or the guy shirtless?” Kate whispers to Castle. 

“Shh,” her partner puts his finger to his lips. “I was told once by a very wise man that there’s a special level of hell reserved for people who talk at the theater.” 

She scoffs quietly. “And people say our society doesn’t have a problem with the sexualization of children…” 

“True. I prefer my scantily dressed women to be adult brunettes with badges,” he whispers in a deep voice, moving slightly closer to her and raising one wicked eyebrow. So much for the special hell. 

She clenches her teeth hard and concentrates on her breathing trying not to blush, but in the semi-darkness she doesn’t think he can see the color of her skin anyway. A comeback springs into her mind, and she covers for her momentary lapse. “Oh, is that why your previous marriages didn’t work out, then? Wrong hair color?” He narrows his eyes at her—not in an angry way, but that small-child-trying-to-look-furious-but-actually- either-going-to-burst-out-laughing-or-have-their-brain-explode way—and places his finger to his lips again. She grins to herself silently. 

When the movie’s over, Kate convinces him quite easily to stop for frozen yogurt on the way home. Hers has chocolate syrup and brownies while she swears his is half rainbow sprinkles. Upon their arrival at home he negotiates a deal with her that if she sleeps for a couple hours this afternoon they can go for a medium length walk this evening. She agrees immediately, giving him time to write and her another step back towards her regular exercise schedule. She misses going to the gym and her runs in Central Park. She’s also convinced that PTSD wouldn’t be nearly so much of a problem if she could take it out by punching people under the banner of ‘sparring’ in the precinct fitness center—or, if her normal partners chickened out, hitting her frustration into innocent dummies. 

She’s up in time to help cook dinner, an activity she loves but never had time for with her detective duties in full swing. Of course, it’s much more fun with Castle there as well, and more than once Alexis or Martha have walked in to find one or both of them covered in flour or with suspiciously large spills of water on their shirts. 

Somehow, as she’s cutting up the onions and trying stiffly not to cry, Kate doesn’t think his allotted ‘writing time’ was actually spent writing. He’s humming again, and it doesn’t take her more than a second to identify the tune. “You have to stop thinking about it, Castle. I know you saw those tweets with spoilers in them, but dwelling on it isn’t going to help you any.” 

“I can’t! I just finished the series, and they’re right! It left me hanging. It left us hanging!” The indignation in his voice is palpable, so much so that it takes all of Kate’s interrogation-room-poker-face training not to burst out laughing. She silently congratulates herself on her spidey sense being absolutely correct. No writing done. Whatsoever. Perhaps all her nagging at the precinct is questionable—she’s pretty sure he’d be no use for paperwork anyways. 

“It’s just a TV show.” 

“Yes, a TV show that was the third of a series of sci-fi phenomena! Undoubtedly a flawed, inferior continuation, but it was Stargate. Aliens that enter your body and control you, a race made of tiny nanite machines, creatures that suck the life out of you with their hands!” 

“I think I get why you write mystery novels. You have a closure problem. In your books you can end everything wrapped up in a neat little bow. Like killing off Derrick Storm—clean cut ending.” 

“Well, yeah! They all got stuck in stasis pods, Kate! Who knows if they’ll ever get out!” 

“They’re not real people, Castle. You do know that, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know—“ 

“Then you have to stop dwelling on it. You’re gonna end up beamed up by an Asgard in your dreams tonight if you don’t.” 

“Ooh, that would be cool.” 

“Or taken over by a Goa’uld.” 

“Not so cool.” 

“Yeah. So unless you wanna be dreaming about that while I dream about Gates cutting me out of the precinct, stop thinking about it.” 

“You don’t have to dream about it, she already did it. I, on the other hand, have yet to experience being taken over by a power-hungry snake-thing.” 

She sets the knife down next to a pile of onion and turns to face him. “Thanks, Castle. That makes me feel so much better.” 

“You’re welcome.” He loves this, the playful banter. He loves that she can match him stride for stride. Except… “I do not have a closure problem!” 

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”

“No, you’re not.” She’s smiling; she’s teasing him. “Well if I have a closure problem, then you do too.”

“How so?” 

“You solve murders for a living and get cranky when you don’t have suspects.” 

“It’s my job, Castle.”

“Mine too.” She gives him a look. “…as a cop-helper!” 

“Right,” she says sarcastically. There’s a pause. “What do you mean, cranky?” He gulps and shifts slightly away as she picks the cutting knife back up off the chopping board. It’s probably involuntary. She probably doesn’t even know she’s holding it. Probably. But the chance to tickle her further is too sweet to resist. 

“I can call Esposito and he’ll tell you.” 

Kate rolls her eyes. “I do not get cranky! And don’t, he’ll think we’ve gone bonkers or turned into one of those couples that coo at each other in public. I need to preserve my professionalism.” 

“Maybe I will…” Castle slides his hand slowly into his pocket for his phone, making a show of it. 

“Professionalism, Castle! Don’t. You. Dare.” She drops the knife—phew—and lunges for his arm, her fingers scrabbling helplessly at the back of his hand. He stands on his tippy-toes, holding the phone straight up in the air. Her injury still doesn’t allow her to raise her arms above her head, and besides, she’d never reach anyways —she’s not currently in heels. “Castle, I will SHOOT YOU.” 

He’s laughing aggravatingly, replying back, “Oh, you know you love me,” before he realizes what he’s said. Their eyes connect for a half second, and then suddenly she’s brushing it off, moving past it. 

“Only for your cuddliness in bed,” she replies with the slightest hint of snark. The look he gives her is priceless. 

Chapter Text

Kate’s hands shake. Somehow she’s gotten to this point, but she doesn’t really know how. First she’d said something about Black Pawn, or maybe something about her dad, and Castle had agreed. He’d driven her to her apartment and left her alone, promising, “I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He’d checked a dozen times to make sure she was all right, and a few more once he’d arrived at his destination. Where that is, Kate doesn’t know, but she hadn’t really been listening to all his worries and explanations. Any of his jabber at all, really. It all comes down to right now, and she won’t let her resolve fail her. 

She keeps her backup piece in her safe, ever since Scott Dunn had blown up her apartment and she realized just how defenseless she was without a weapon. Not that it would have done much good in that situation, but on those inevitable days she wasn’t allowed to have her precinct-assigned piece, it was comforting to know there was a firearm she knew intimately how to use just a few feet away. 

“Comforting,” of course, had been before the PTSD. 

She clenches and unclenches her hands several times to try to get them to stop quivering, and then she begins to turn the dial. She knows the combo like the back of her hand; the safe is an old one she’d gotten in college to protect the small valuables in her room as well as any important notes she anticipated to have in law school. Still, it takes her two tries and a swig of forbidden wine to unlock it, and she’s both relieved and terrified to find her personal firearm still nestled in the safe where she’d left it. Relieved because nobody else had it, terrified because it stripped her of any non-cowardly reason to back out of her plan. 

But she won’t because she wants to do this. Needs to do this. She’s ignoring the part of her mind telling her that Castle should be here for this, but he would just try to stop her. He would list reasons why this is such a bad idea and he’d wear down her resolve into a tiny little nub that wouldn’t get her anywhere. It’s not like she going shooting. She’s just...taking it out. 

She crouches there, in front of it, for what seems like a million years. Her ankles and the bottom of her feet begin to protest loudly, but she gives them no heed until she accidentally loses her balance and pitches forward on her toes. She frantically scrabbles at the ground to steady herself. Undisciplined strands of hair fall into her face as she pushes herself back up into that crouched position, shifting slightly to relieve some of the stress on her feet. An echo of memory brushes through her mind as she stares at the gun, a promise to her and her thudding heart of the horror to come. 

It’s cool on her fingertips when she finally does touch it. An arc of electricity crashes down her spine and she jolts away from the safe, bringing her finger to her mouth as if burned. Slowly she braces herself and crawls back towards it, steeling her fingers to grasp it and lift it up and out into the open. Memories threaten to surge over her, battering at her consciousness and getting closer and closer to breaking through her forced calm as the distance between her and the gun dwindles. 

Before she can stop herself, she impulsively reaches in and grabs the weapon, pulling it towards her in one swift motion. Instantly she recognizes the weight difference—the clip’s missing—at the same time as the world turns gray and fuzzy and a combined heat and chill floods her body. A veritable maelstrom of sensations and memories are beating on her skull now, and she’s forced to let go of the gun once again and let it clatter off her lap and onto the floor. 

She shudders, already feeling the paradoxical burn and freeze ebbing away, and peers inside the safe once again. The clip’s in the safe as well, just further back, and she examines it to see a full complement of bullets inside. Castle must have unloaded it before putting it back in the safe as an extra precaution after she ran away when she first came home after getting shot. 

With practiced fingers she shoves the clip into the open space at the bottom of the gun, ignoring her hitched intake of breath at the click as it snaps into place. She holds it aloft from her as she slowly stands up, treating it with the care of someone holding a package of volatile explosives. Kate moves steadily into the kitchen, depositing it on the table. Her hands are trembling. 

Giving it one last look, she hurries to the couch, using the armrest as if it were cover she could duck behind, regarding the gun like one would regard a wild beast. This is silly, she tells herself. “A gun didn’t kill you, the person wielding it did.” Her voice is unnaturally loud in the otherwise deserted apartment. She thinks about that statement for a second and then asks, “Wait, is that going to make me have PTSD about people?” She pauses to consider that and then shakes her head and continues. “No, of course not. That’s ridiculous.” She glances at the gun again, arm snaking out to pull a book from her shelf. “Focus, Kate.” 

She takes the book onto her lap, unsurprised that it’s one of his—after all, there are twenty-four of them. Opening it to a random page, she rakes her eyes down it, speed reading in her jumpy state to flick her gaze once again at the firearm sitting innocently on the table once she reaches the bottom. She returns her gaze to the book and flips the page, forcing herself to finish it before taking another reassuring glance at the table. 

Kate does this for the better part of an hour, the shivering gradually fading away as she sees nothing catastrophic has occurred because of the gun in her kitchen. “Time to put it away for today,” she tells herself. Her right foot cracks softly against the carpet, startling her into jumping slightly, but she maintains her grip on the weapon despite her slick palms. Sitting ten feet away from a gun for forty-five minutes has done nothing to stop the metallic taste from seeping into her mouth and coating her tongue at the prospect of picking one up, but she’s heartened by the fact she hasn’t had a bonafide flashback. It’s progress, and she uses it as evidence to herself that maybe Castle and Shaw and Burke and Ryan and Esposito and Lanie and Montgomery and her dad and virtually everyone else in her life might be right—maybe she can get through this and be a cop again. She’s closer to it now than she has been in the last month. 

She’s opening the little door to the safe—she hadn’t bothered to lock it up again in case she needed to put the thing back rather hastily—when there’s a knock at her door, and the loud, unexpected sound seems to slam directly into her stomach and render her limbs into jelly. She falls backward from the couched position to land with her butt on the floor with a loud thump. 

“Kate?” Castle calls, sounding distinctly worried. “You okay? Can I come in?” 

In the time it takes Kate to regain her breath enough to answer him, she can hear the key slide into the lock and the door opens. He looks surprised to find her on the floor, and she knows the exact point that he sees the gun in her hands because of the wave of shock that splashes over his features. 

“Castle, don’t…don’t freak out,” she says calmly. She’s holding the firearm like it’s a live bomb about to go off. If he freaks then she will. Panic and terror will override her; vestiges from the funeral will sweep her off her feet and into the maw of the whirlpool. She doesn’t want that, not after all the progress she’s made. 

“Kate, what are you doing?” he asks in a voice that is obviously carefully measured and controlled. She drops the gun back into the safe and closes the door, spinning the little dial to lock it again. 

“I’m fine, Castle,” she says, standing up shakily. “I just wanted to see if I could be around it, that’s all.”

“How long did you have it out?” Castle questions neutrally. 

“A while,” she admits, walking toward him. “Please don’t be mad at me, Castle; I thought that if I told you what I was going to do you would try and stop me.” 

“I probably would have,” he says, “and for good reason. But I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt.” 

“No,” Kate smiles. The last kernel of fear inside her dissolves as she realizes he’s not angry with her. “I can hold a gun!” she rejoices. The elation nearly lifts her off her feet as she wraps her arms around him. “I can do it, Castle; I can do it,” she whispers into his ear, and he hugs her just as tightly. 

When they finally release, he holds her arms length away from him so that he can look into her eyes. “Kate, next time you do something like this, please let me be there.” 

“Yes,” she tells him seriously. “I do have something else planned, and I do want you there.” 

“What is it?” he asks, wary again. 

She leads him over to the couch, waiting until they’re both sitting to begin to explain. “I want to have someone draw on me.” 

He just stares at her for a second. “Um…” 

“I only have two weeks before reexaminations. I need to get this down before then. I need to know that I can do this.” 

“Kate, just because the first time you are allowed to get evaluated is in two weeks, that doesn’t mean you have to be! No one’s rushing you. You could get reevaluated in three weeks, or a month.” 

“I can’t just not do my job, Castle. I do work for a living. I promise I’m not rushing into anything, and that this is a pace I want to set and will be able to manage. I cleared all of this by Dr. Burke yesterday, and he agreed that this might be helpful as long as I don’t go too far with it. He said I’ve been making good progress, and eventually this would be the next step. If I can handle it now, there’s no reason to wait.” She pauses. “Dr. Kovaks cleared me for mildly strenuous exercise, too. Everything’s coming together, and this is part of it.” 

“What did he define as ‘too far’?” 

“No flashbacks,” she says with finality. She can see that she is swaying him, her logic—practiced for over an hour, but he doesn’t need to know that—is getting to him. 

He sighs. “I guess I can’t keep you warm and safe forever, can I?” 

“No, but it’s cute that you would try,” she grins, giving him a peck on the mouth before snuggling up against him. 

“Who’s going to draw on you? Me?”

“I was thinking Esposito or Ryan because they’re NYPD,” Kate suggests. “Also, if something goes wrong and I get spooked, I need you to calm me down, and you won’t be able to do that with a gun in your hand.” 

“Have they agreed?” Castle asks dubiously. 

“Haven’t asked them yet. They’re going to meet me at the Old Haunt tonight for drinks and I’ll bring it up then. I’d like you to be there, but if you’ve made other arrangements I can go by myself.” 

“No, of course I’ll be there,” Castle says.

“Good,” she smiles again. “Hopefully it’ll seem less, well, insane, of an idea if you’re there too.” 

“Oh, you spotted the potential insanity of this plan too?” Castle teases. “Good, I thought it was just me.” She smacks him lightly on the shoulder.

Kate leads him over to the NYPD reserved booth in the corner, Castle stopping every so often to say hello to his employees. Besides Eddie the piano man, Joel the manager, and Brian the evening bartender, there are only about another ten people present, but Castle likes it that way. He’s reviewed the bar’s records every month now that he owns it, and it always operates just a margin into the black. He knows sales could skyrocket with the proper marketing—all of his over-twenty-one fangirls would be all too happy to drink in the bar of their favorite author, he’s sure—but it would ruin the tranquil, homey atmosphere of this place that’s the reason he loves it. Never mind the fact that it’ll take one hundred and fifty years to earn back what he paid for it—he’s rich already. 

He orders a beer for him and water for Kate without her protesting. Besides the doctor’s no-alcohol recommendation, she’ll need to have all her wits about her if she’s going to get Ryan or Esposito to participate in her questionable plan. On second thought, he orders the boys’ favorites for them ahead of time. He and Kate will have better luck convincing them if they’re slightly inebriated. 

Ryan and Esposito show up a few minutes after they receive their drinks, and immediately start up precinct banter with Beckett. “You miss us so much that you had to schedule a meeting with us last minute?” Ryan asks. 

“No, just Espo, but he said it’d be rude if we didn’t invite you too,” she shoots back, and Castle snickers appreciatively to himself. 

“Don’t listen to a word she says, bro,” Esposito tells his partner. “She’s been spending too much time with Castle, addled her brain.” 

“Hey,” Castle responds indignantly. “Just for that, you can pay for your own drinks.” 

“It’s the Old Haunt, dude. Drinks are always on you.” 

“True,” Ryan speaks up. “Sometimes we come here with just our friends and the drinks are still always on you. The wait staff likes us.” 

“Gee, thanks, guys,” Castle says sarcastically. “No wonder I can’t seem to make a decent profit on this place.” 

“Catch any interesting cases lately?” Beckett asks the boys. 

“Just the standard Jack shot Jill over Bill,” Esposito answers. “Kinda nice that all the real big psychopaths are waitin’ until you get back for the freaky ones.” 

“How sweet of them,” Kate says drily. Two rounds of drinks later, she launches into the real reason she’s brought them here. “So, only two weeks until I can take reexaminations.” 

“Yep,” Esposito affirms. “Ryan’s got a clock on his computer counting down the days. He misses you a whole lot.” 

Ryan punches him lightly. “Do not!” Beckett raises her eyebrows at him. “I mean, I do miss you, of course, but I just don’t have a clock counting down!” 

“Anyways,” Kate says, cutting it off before the friendly argument can escalate, “I want to make sure I’ll be able to pass when I take them and do my job after that. So I want one of you to practice drawing on me.” 

Their slightly intoxicated states do nothing to stop the silent stares she gets at that. “You mean, like, to practice our Pictionary skills, right?” Ryan asks. 

“No,” Kate says. “I want you to draw a gun on me.” Silence prevails again. 

“You agree with this, Castle?” Esposito asks.

“I don’t have a better idea,” Castle admits. 

“No,” Ryan nearly interrupts him. “No, I’m—we’re—not going to point guns at you so you can get used to it! That’s…that’s just…no! We could lose our badges for that, Beckett.” Castle wisely stays silent, as drawing a gun on your good friend with PTSD isn’t the kind of thing you bargain a week with the Ferrari for. This is more between her and them. Personal. 

Esposito exchanges a glance with Ryan. “I agree. Going to a shooting range is one thing, but this is just wrong. I understand what you’re trying to do, Beckett, but this is overkill. I’ve been where you are, after I left Special Forces, but I can’t imagine trying to deal with it like this. We’re your friends, Beckett, but…” he shakes his head, “we won’t do this.” 

Momentary anger flashes through Beckett’s eyes before she sighs, looking down into her drink. “I understand, guys.” Her voice is just loud enough to be heard over the piano and quiet chatter of the bar. 

“I should be heading home,” Ryan says uncomfortably. “Jenny’ll be waiting for me.” 

“So you two set a date yet?” Beckett looks up. He seems surprised by the question. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Jenny actually wanted me home early-ish tonight so we can do the finishing touches on the designs of the invitations.” He glances around at them all with an almost sheepish expression, yawning in spite of himself. “She’s making me.” 

Esposito looks sympathetic. “Good luck, bro.”

“You’d better get home then,” Kate laughs.

“Yeah, anyways,” Ryan says. “See you around. We should do this again sometime.” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Kate agrees. 

“I should be heading out too,” Esposito adds. “Come see me before your evals, Beckett. I’ve had to do ‘em, so I might have a few last minute tips for ya.” 

“Sure thing.” Kate turns back to Castle after Esposito leaves. “Can you believe it about Ryan? I swear it was just yesterday he was introducing us to Jenny during that dominatrix case.” 

“Yes, if yesterday was one and a half years ago,” Castle teases. “We haven’t seen her much since Ryan proposed during that fiasco with Natalie Rhodes, but that’s mostly because we’ve been...out of contact.” 

“Time really flies,” Kate observes. She drains the last few mouthfuls of Castle’s drink and smiles sweetly. “Ready to go?” 

He rolls his eyes. “If you’re done.” 

“I am.” She links her arm through his. “Also, I’ve figured out one last person who I might be able to convince to pull a gun on me.” Castle sighs, having been secretly relieved at they boys’ refusal. But he should have known, what with Beckett’s single-minded intensity, that she would have another solution before they even left the Old Haunt. 

“And who would that be?” 

Chapter Text

“L.T.” At first, the two letters make no sense to Castle. Then it clicks. 

“What? Why would he be any more willing than Esposito or Ryan?” He’s well and truly confused as they exit the restaurant and hail a cab. Kate fiddles with cash from her wallet as she answers. 

“Because he’s less invested. Espo and Ryan…they care too much. They’re too close.” She purses her lips together slightly, barely visible in the dim light from the buildings outside. “They’re too close to see it like it is. It’s just a training exercise, like we used to do at the Academy. It’s no worse than the taser-shock, or the pepper spray we had to go through.” 

Castle frowns, trying to find how best to express his disagreement. “Um, I think it’s a little bit different than that, but...” 

She fixes him with a hard Beckett-stare the likes of which he hasn’t seen since they first met, and he squirms in his seat. Kate’s disappearing as he watches, and more and more Beckett is coming back every day. “Obviously you’re too close too, Castle.” 

“I don’t think it’ll be easy as you think to convince him,” he says. 

“I didn’t say it would be easy,” she mutters darkly. “There’s something else, too. I’ll let him use a training gun. Just rubber.” 

“Will that work? I mean, if you know it’s not real, then...” 

“Horror movies are fiction, but we still scream,” she says uncertainly. “Honestly, Castle, I don’t know. But it’s all we’ve got, so it has to be enough.” 

Kate jumps out of bed in the morning five seconds before her phone rings. From under the covers Castle groans. “Shut it off,” he mumbles. 

“It’s probably L.T.,” Kate says, pulling her shirt out of the drawer as she reaches for her phone a few feet away. It turns out she’s right, and he’s agreed to hear out their proposal that afternoon. “One o’clock, that cop bar on 22nd,” Kate informs him. Setting her phone back on the bed, she grabs the rest of her outfit from the dresser and gathers up his as well. She tosses it to him, unsurprised and not all that guilt-ridden as they land on his face. “I’m going running, be back in twenty. Up, and dressed,” she directs him. When his form doesn’t move or complain, she pokes him somewhere in the calf vicinity—she can never be sure under the bedcovers. “Up and at ‘em, Castle. It’s already six fifteen.” 

“Which is three hours too early to be using the word ‘already’ in front of,” he grumbles. 

“Get up, kitten,” she calls behind her in a sing-song voice as she enters the bathroom to change. She’s not worried about waking anyone else up in the loft, as she’s discovered Castle’s bedroom is very soundproof. It’s been like that since before she met him, although she doesn’t really want to think about the reasons why he has it that way…

He’s still not up by the time she heads out the door, but he will be by the time she gets home. He knows from experience that bad things happen when he doesn’t get out of bed in time. Things like frowny faces with X’s for eyes burned onto his toast or glasses of fresh lemonade sans any sugar. 

She puts in her earbuds as soon as she steps out the doors and then takes off in a slow jog to ramp up to her normal. It’s never been in her nature to be cautious about straining her body—the greater the burn, the better in her book—but after all that’s happened she’s not going to risk yet another trip to the hospital. Her breathing quickens drastically all too quickly and her chest tightens. A dull ache becomes not so dull in her bullet wound scar. 

Her phone rings again loud in her ears. She hopes it’s not L.T. calling to reschedule, but she has the sinking feeling it is. 

“Hey, L.T.,” she answers the phone in a resigned tone. 

“Hey, girl,” says a voice that is definitely not male. There’s a pause as Kate’s oxygen-deprived brain catches up with this twist in events. “Did you just call me L.T.?” 

“Of course not!” Kate exclaims too quickly. “Lanie. Not L.T. Although they do sound similar, I guess.” 

“You sound out of breath,” Lanie accuses her. She can visualize her best friend’s narrowed eyes on the other end of the line. 

“Just going for a jog,” Kate assures her. 

“Yes, well, what’s this I hear of a harebrained scheme of having Javi draw on you?” Oh. Shit. Espo! “It was nothing, Lanie,” she says hurriedly. 

“No, it is something. It’s you, torturing yourself unnecessarily because of some crazy idea in your head that you need to be back in the precinct the moment Gates’ll let you!” 

“Honestly, Lanie, it wouldn’t have been like that! Castle would have been right there. It’s perfectly safe.” 

“Safe?” Lanie growls. “I’m sure it would have been safe. But humane? Not so much!” 

“Well it doesn’t matter anymore because Esposito and Ryan refused, okay? So just drop it! I have to go.” 

Silence prevails on the other end, and for a moment Kate thinks Lanie just hung up on her. Then: “Kate Beckett, are you going to ask L.T. to draw on you?” 

“No, I would never… What made you think…?” Kate stammers. “No!” 

“If you’re lyin’ to me, girl...” Lanie lets that hang there before concluding, “...I will tell your father on you. And then I will come kill you myself.” 

Tell Lanie the truth and beg her not to tell Jim anything or maintain the falsehood and hope she doesn’t. Kate weighs her options quickly, coming to a snap decision. “You don’t need to tell him anything because there’s nothing to tell. It was just an idea of mine, Lanie, but it’s over now. I’m done with it. Now, I really have to go.” She hits the end button, feeling the surge of adrenaline pulsing through her body beginning to fade. 

Jogging turns more into storming home, anger and discontent swirling around in a dark cloud in her brain. Castle looks up from the table immediately as she stomps into the kitchen, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a firm, unhappy line. “What’s wrong?” he asks, coming over and grasping her wrists to prevent her from disappearing into the bedroom to lick her wounds in private. Which she wasn’t going to do. She wasn’t. Really. 

“Lanie heard about my plan from Espo,” she growls.

“And she didn’t like it,” Castle surmises from the ugly look on Kate’s face. 

“No.”

Castle releases her hands and encircles her in a soft hug. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” she says, muffled by his shirt. After another few seconds’ comfort she wiggles out of his embraces and shakes her head, dispelling Lanie from her mind. Castle’s made pancakes and she smiles at him when he hands her hers—it’s impossible not to when a whipped cream smiley face is staring up at her. 

“He’s almost too cute to eat,” Kate tells Castle. “Too bad I’m hungry.” She slits the side of his face with her fork. 

“You are evil, sometimes, you know that?” Castle teases. “So, since you got me up at this ungodly hour, we have six to kill until we meet L.T.” He flips another pancake onto his plate and decorates it, ending with a flourish of the whipped cream can. “Ideas?” 

“I was thinking…” Kate lingers on the word, “you could read me a bit of Heat Rises.” 

Castle chokes on his pancake and by the time he finally has control of his own breathing again his eyes are watery. “Are…are you sure?” he gasps. 

“Why not?” she asks. She narrows her eyes at him. “Is there another sex scene?” 

He looks uncomfortable with the accusation. “What I do with my own fantasies on my own time is none of your business.” He sticks his tongue out at her. 

“Yeah, okay, now you have to read me the entire book, so I can make sure it’s fit for the public eye,” she says. He gulps. “Seriously? There is one, again, Castle?” She can’t decide whether she’s more indignant or more flattered, but she’s certainly not going to tell him the latter. “My father reads these books, Castle!” 

His eyes widen, and he looks down at his plate. “Yeah, I know. He let me sweat it out plenty after he mentioned it. Actually made me wish I hadn’t named the last one ‘Naked Heat.’” 

Kate laughs. Score one for Dad. “Yep, sounds like him.” She jumps up to clear their plates as soon as they’re done, ignoring Castle’s feeble protests that she doesn’t have to; he’ll do it. 

“Go get the manuscript, Castle,” she rolls her eyes. “I’ll join you on the couch.” 

He fetches it while she gives the plates a light scrub with the sponge and a warm rinse and hurriedly wipes them. She hasn’t read any of Heat Rises yet, but she knows it’s nearly ready for publication. Book launch party set for September 5th, she believes, with the actual release date being September 20th. If his last twenty-four books are anything to judge by, this one will be good as well. He’s Richard Castle. Of course it’ll be good. 

“Okay” he says after they’re comfortable. He blinks, looking down at the first page in the manuscript and then flips it. “One. The thing about New York City is that—“ 

“Wait,” Kate stops him, frowning. “Aren’t you going to read the dedication?” 

“Oh,” he says, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Uh, sure.” She doesn’t understand why he’d be discomfited by her request; after all, his two previous dedications have been nothing but sweet and honestly her favorite part of the book. She can recite them perfectly: To the extraordinary KB and all my friends at the 12th, and To the real Nikki Heat, with gratitude. 

Castle flips back to the first page and clears his throat. “To Captain Roy Montgomery, NYPD. He made a stand and taught me all I need to know about bravery and character.” Startled, Kate looks down at her hands, thoughts racing a mile a minute. At his touch she looks back up at him, his features made blurry by the salt water pooling in her eyes, but she smiles and nods her approval. He smiles back uncertainly, obviously relieved that she likes the dedication. It’s…difficult…to hear, but so right at the same time. “One,” he repeats, “The thing about New York City is that you never know what’s behind a door. Homicide Detective Nikki Heat pondered that…” He keeps reading, and Kate just leans back, settles herself in the warm crook of his arm, closes her eyes, and listens. 

They sit at a table set for three in the bar L.T. had suggested, splitting a beer. Well, not actually splitting it—out of a sense of pity he’d offered her a sip but she’d drank a gulp or two. “Just nervous,” she’d replied in answer to his unamused expression. 

There isn’t time to say anything more, as L.T. has just entered the establishment. Castle doesn’t think he’s ever seen him in civilian garb before, and it’s a little disconcerting. He nods to Castle before taking a seat on his stool and addressing Kate. “So, Beckett, what gives?” 

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Kate tells him. 

“If it’s sneaking you into the precinct, it isn’t possible,” he says. “Gates has that place on high alert for you. Seems she read your personnel file, took notice of the adjectives ‘persistent,’ ‘driven,’ and ‘tenacious.’” 

In spite of herself, Kate smiles. “Montgomery left such a glowing review of me.” She glances at Castle as she says his name, and Castle feels again that twinge of guilt. They’d only reached the end of chapter four in Heat Rises, so she still has no idea exactly how much events for Nikki’s Captain Montrose will mirror Montgomery’s life. She’s still talking. “But no, it’s not that. I want you to pull a gun on me. A training gun,” she adds hastily. Castle zooms back into the present conversation, trying to look like he’s been listening the whole time. 

To their relief, L.T. doesn’t appear appalled or repulsed by the notion—not like Esposito and Ryan were. Just pensive. “Why?” 

“As you may or may not know, the time when I can take reexaminations is coming up, and I really want to pass. But in order to do that, I need to make sure I can handle a gun pointed at me, and if I can’t, I need to practice.” 

“Why not ask Detective Esposito? Or Detective Ryan?” 

“They didn’t like the prospect,” Kate answers honestly. “I need Castle there for support. You’re my last shot, L.T.” 

“I’m really close to making Sergeant, Beckett,” their friend replies, running his hand over his chin. “This could cost me my badge. Everything.” There’s nothing either of them can say at this point, and it wouldn’t be fair to anyways. It’s enormous, what they’re asking of him, and Castle knows he has a teenage son to support. Finally: “Okay. I’ll do it. This job is dangerous enough when you have all your wits about you. I don’t want you out there if you’re not ready for it.” 

“Thank you,” Kate breathes. “Only Castle and I will know, I promise.” 

“My brother owns a building a couple blocks west of here,” L.T. tells them. “The funding to develop it was temporarily stalled two months ago, and it’s empty until December. I can ask him for a key for some police tactical training.” 

Kate nods her agreement. “Sounds good. If there’s anything I can ever do for you...”

“Don’t mention it. You’re a good Detective, Detective. The best. It isn’t the same in the Twelfth without you.” 

Chapter Text

To be completely honest, Castle didn’t expect L.T. to come through for them so quickly. At the very least, he’d expected a few days’ time in which to make sure she was really ready for this. Hold the gun in her apartment, leave it on the table, whatever—not this. Not introducing the element of true danger, not just what her mind fabricated. Motionless on the counter, or in her own hands, it has no power to hurt. She’s trained, and he’s sure she left the safety on and unloaded it as a precaution. This time, it represents a real situation. A real danger. One she will face nearly every day, once she gets back to the precinct. 

It’s times like these—when he really stops and thinks about it—that he just wants to sweep her away from a life in law enforcement, provide for her with his vast sums of money, and protect her from every trauma, physical, emotional, or mental. Her job is taxing, frustrating, a never-ending war with far too many casualties. She has almost been one of them already. He loves her, and without her, he knows full well he’d never be the same. 

But when his mind inevitably goes down this path of thinking, it always circles back to one point. He loves her, and wants to protect her, so she’s safe. He loves all of her, all the pieces that make her up. If he took away being a cop, he would lose a part of her, one that is irreplaceable. He would lose that grateful, triumphant look she gives him every time they put a bad guy in jail. He would lose her determination, her fire, that goes into interrogation and extracts information from mobsters, dealers, thugs, and other lowlifes. 

Losing any part of her spirit is about as acceptable to him as his arm being cut off. 

So instead he’s forced to watch her walking toward him and put on a brave smile. Her gait is steady, but the jumpiness of her darting eyes and her uncertain countenance betrays her true feelings. When she reaches him, he doesn’t let either of them say a word before encircling his arms around her and feels her relax against him a little with a soft outpouring of breath. He just stands there holding her, drinking in the cherries in her hair as he knows she’s inhaling the scent of his cologne from where she’s tucked up against him. Seconds tick past, but there’s no place Castle would rather be than cradling her against his body, her soft hair feathery strands of silk on his chin and cheek. When he hears L.T.’s footsteps in the hallway, he releases her slowly and puts his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently and meeting her eyes. “You can do this.” 

“I can do this,” she repeats, mimicking his confidence. Kate turns to face L.T. and Castle retreats to a corner. She backs up to put some space between her and the officer, and Castle repositions himself to be just a few feet behind her in case she falls. He doesn’t know quite what he’s expecting to happen. 

L.T.’s eyes lock with Kate’s and she nods. His hand moves slowly towards his gun, drawing it from its holster and directing it in the general area of her chest. The effect is immediate, and except for the absence of sound Castle would have thought that he’d really shot her because of the way she reacted. The shock is clear on her face, like someone who’d unexpectedly broken through the ice of a pond and plunged knee deep in freezing water. He recognizes that look all too well; it’s the same one that engulfed her at Montgomery’s funeral one and a half months ago. 

Castle steps forward out of the shadows and runs his hands down her arms to her stiff fingers as he cushions her body against him from behind. He runs his thumbs over her clenched fingers, persuading them to relax while his mouth persuades her to breathe. He feels the tension lessen after a minute or so, and then she says, “It’s okay, Castle.” He dutifully steps back, fingertips trailing along her left arm until he’s forced to break contact completely. 

L.T. holsters his Glock and Kate nods her readiness. He draws. She freezes. Castle steps forward. She recovers, “Again.” He draws. 

They do this for the better part of an hour, with progressively less and less recovery time needed for Kate and steadily increasing speed of draws on the part of L.T. Either he’s intentionally acclimating her to the speed of a normal draw, or it’s him unintentionally reverting back to his Academy training through repetition—gun up, quick as you can. Castle thinks the latter, as Kate hasn’t requested him to go any faster. And yet she’s still improving. He’s glad. He can’t wait for this ordeal to be over. 

But…part of him kind of wants it to stay this way. He’s spending more time with her than ever before, and none of it involving harrowing life-or-death situations. She’s letting him into her personal life, letting him take care of her. They do, well, nearly everything together. 

Once she goes back, he’s afraid this “Kate” he’s just spent so much time with will fade into the background as her “Beckett” persona takes charge. He won’t be around as much, if Gates has anything to say about it. He knows she can’t stop them from working together, but Castle’s of the opinion that their new Captain would staunchly disapprove of a civilian assisting with prep for a trial or filling out police paperwork. Not that he ever did any anyway. He’ll have no excuse not to devote more time and interest into his mother’s acting school, and, even more torturously, no excuse to give Gina and Black Pawn to get him out of any long meetings, PR with nosy reporters, late night talk shows, or book signings. He’ll have to—oh, the horror— actually set a date for the Heat Rises book tour and commit to it. Kind of like buying a baseball bat and later bludgeoning yourself with it. 

But most of all, he’ll miss the late mornings—if he wakes first, the watching her sleep, if she does, the way she smiles when she sees his eyes flutter open. Instead, awakened by a phone call that means somewhere, someone has died. With Beckett’s luck, probably gruesomely. And that’s not the kind of news he wants to be woken up to every morning. 

To Ryan and Esposito, Castle likes the creepy ones, the mysterious ones—he spins wild theories and makes them out to be spies on covert missions—is a spy ever not on a covert mission? or is that just redundant—but really, it’s a defense mechanism. He can’t think about the victims as people; it hits too close to home. Treating them as just another case number is unfair. So he makes up stories, adds grandeur and mystique. So he can focus on something other than their humanity. So that he can think things besides the fact that that could just as easily be him, or Alexis, or Kate, or his mother, or Esposito, Ryan, or Lanie. Every cop has defense mechanisms. It’s how they do their jobs. 

He realizes he’s just called himself a cop. He’s not, in any formal sense of the word. Cop helper, a writer, Richard-Castle-just-NY, those are what he is. So why does he do it? For the victims, and...for the girl. The woman who’s captured his heart. 

They’ve just finished their twenty-somethingth time when L.T. holsters the rubber weapon for real, clipping it in. “I have to be back to the Twelfth and report for duty in half an hour,” he says. “But if you want, we pick this up again Monday.” 

Kate nods, thanking him, and retrieves her stuff. They stand outside the building quietly as they watch L.T.’s squad car disappear into crowded New York City traffic. She turns and snakes her hand into his, squeezing lightly as they begin the walk to where his car is parked a few blocks away. The street is cluttered, but not overly so, and there are only a few other people on the sidewalk. Once they’ve skirted around a particularly suspicious-looking character smoking a cigarette and eyeing them under a dark hat, Castle probes the subject. “So, how do you feel?” 

“Like I just watched a horror movie a hundred times over,” Kate sighs. “Every time got a bit better, but it’s still not easy, you know?” 

“Towards the end there, you looked like you were reaching for a gun yourself,” Castle reminds her gently. 

“True,” she says, looking marginally happier. “I just want to curl up and relax when we get back to the loft. Leave the shooting range for tomorrow. My nerves are shot already.” 

Castle agrees immediately. 

The next day comes all too quickly for his taste, something that seems to happen all too often when he’s dreading an event in the near future. She’s convinced him to take her to the shooting range where he learned to shoot, and he has to admit it’s a good idea—she’ll definitely have to requalify to carry her firearm, and the number of hours he’s logged at this place getting as good as he is will pretty much allow them to be left relatively alone. He’s very familiar—and very generous—with the proprietors. It goes back to the earlier days of his success, after his first or second bestseller, when the mobs of press really started taking an active interest in him—and his personal life. Before Alexis was born, before he and Meredith had even met, he’d slip away to here, a small gun range at which they’d never even think of looking for him. To Gina and Paula, when they complained he wasn’t doing enough writing, he’d say he was doing research, but really he just needed some time alone that had nothing to do with his career or the fame it brought him. When he needed some clarity. 

They give them a private area in the back in which to practice and a whole drawer’s worth of ammunition. They’ve both brought their guns from home, but Castle doesn’t think he’ll get much of a chance to practice today. Her movements are slow but steady as she loads her gun and she steps up to the window, staring down the target. It’s not a human silhouette like she’s used to, just a round one, but maybe that will help dissociate this from her own shooting. 

Under his watchful eye she wraps her hands around the butt of the gun, lifting it as her finger finds its way onto the trigger. She’s concentrating hard, and the gun’s not visibly shaking but he knows it very well could be from her point of view as she aims. She fires, and at the sound of the shot jumps slightly. Her arms shift from their straight, locked position and she slowly places the gun, still facing outward, on the sill. 

Castle comes up behind her, places his hands on her waist, and supports her. “You okay?” he whispers, and she gives no answer. Her eyes are focused outward, not inward, so he knows she’s not having a flashback, but the will to shoot again appears to have deserted her. 

“Come on, Beckett,” he says, purposefully calling her by that name. He has a plan, and it just might help. “You’re a great shot, maybe even better than me. So show me how it’s done.” She doesn’t move, but he slips to the side of her and picks up her gun, placing it once more in her hand and adjusting her slumped stance as he continues, “It’s not a duel, Scaramouche. Here.” Her lips quirk up just a bit. “Square off to the target. Feet shoulder-distance apart.” She shuffles her feet responsively. “Okay,” he says warmly. “Gauntlet your right fist in your left palm.” 

She raises her arms, points the gun at the target again. “Whoa, shot too soon,” she whispers, her first words since they’ve entered this place. A real smile tugs at her. 

“No cuddling until you’ve shredded that target to bits,” Castle tells her, delighted in her response. He’d hoped reminding her of a day where all of this baggage she’s currently dealing with didn’t exist would help, and it looks like it has. 

Bang. Her second shot rips a clean hole next to the first. One point. Bang. Bang. Two, three. Bang. Bang. Bang. Five, four, five. The stack of clips shrinks, and the ratio of spread-out holes to centered ones decreases. Bang, bang. Seven. Eight! That, he thinks, could be enough to merit requalification if she can repeat it. 

“Tell you what,” he whispers in her ear, “you put any of the next three in the ten-ring, and I’ll cook you dinner. Whatever you want.” 

She smiles, turning her head to look up at him. “Don’t you normally cook us dinner?” 

He thinks about it a second. “Fine. I’ll let you proofread the next sex scene between Nikki and Rook.” 

“How about you let me be the inspiration for it?” Kate suggests. 

“You’re always the inspiration for it,” he says. She grins, then turns back to the target with a look of fierce determination. Bang, bang, bang. Tens. Three of them, nearly obliterating the entire inner ring. 

“You’re a very good teacher,” she says cockily, placing the gun back on the sill before throwing her arms around his neck. His face is buried in her cherry-scented hair before he hears her say, “I love you, Richard Castle.” 

Chapter Text

“All that you rely on
And all that you can save 
Will leave you in the morning 
And find you in the day” 

"In My Veins" by Andrew Belle

“Well, you two certainly look happy,” Martha greets them at the door. “Katherine, you’re positively glowing.” 

“Am I?” Kate asks, glancing at him. “We were just at the range shooting stuff and then went for burgers.” 

Castle mouths, “Tell you later” over her head to his mother, who looks delighted. 

“I must be off!” she says, snatching up her handbag from where it sits on the edge of the couch. “You two kids have fun. I won’t be back until morning. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she waggles her eyebrows at him. 

“Mother!”

“So long!” the door shuts behind her. 

“Martha says the oddest things sometimes,” Kate says, turning to him and kicking off her shoes. “What did she mean by that?” 

“Oh, um,” he stammers. “Nothing.”

She gives him the Beckett look. “I’m the expert on ‘nothing.’ That’s not nothing. Come on, tell me.” 

“Fine,” he says, taking a seat on the couch. She sits next to him, close enough so she can lean her head on his shoulder. “Well, as a kid, I went to a lot of different schools.” 

“Because your mom’s acting required you to move around a lot?”

“Partially. I got...kicked out of most of them.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Shush, you,” he says, poking her in the leg. “Do you want me to tell the story or not?” 

“Yes, please. Continue.” 

“So, I was at this boarding school, a particularly nasty one called Faircroft Preparatory Academy. I was probably, oh—sixteen at the time. It was in the weeks before prom, and my buddies and I were looking for something fun to do because we were bored with our classes. I came up with the idea of a prank—putting a cow on the roof of the school.” 

“Oh my God, Castle,” Kate covers her mouth with her hand, staring at him. “What happened?” 

He shrugs, laughing. “We did it. When the bell rang to start class at eight o’clock that morning, not a single student showed up in any of the rooms. The teachers came out to see why, and everyone was just staring up at this cow on the roof. Principal Duncan had to hire a crane to get it removed, and both he and the cow were not happy.” 

“How did you get it up there?” The awe on her face is palpable. 

“Trade secret,” he replies infuriatingly. “Anyways, once he got it down he called me out of the crowd and made me go in front of the whole school for a reprimand. He forced me to apologize to the entire student body for interrupting their day and for ‘defacing’ the beautiful school property.” 

“Did you?” she asks skeptically. 

“Sort of?” he offers. “They gave me a standing ovation and threw their stuff in the air when the cow flicked its tail in Principal Duncan’s face.” 

Kate snorts and rolls her eyes. “I still don’t understand why Martha would care so much about this.” 

“Just wait,” he promises. “Anyways, after he got all the students to quiet down, he ferreted out the rest of the guys who helped me with the prank. One of them let slip that I came up with the idea, so he pinned most of it on me.” 

“Justifiably,” Kate points out. 

“Yeah. He told me that I had to dispose of the cow and then he expelled me in front of the entire school. So I looked him in the eye, did the Vulcan Salute with my fingers, said, ‘Live long and prosper,’ picked up the rope around the cow’s neck, and walked off campus with it.” Kate’s laughing so hard now that she seems to be finding it difficult to breathe. “I had no place to take it but home, to my mother’s fifty square foot apartment.” 

“Castle, I can’t believe…what did Martha say?” 

“When she came home she just sighed and sat down on the bed and asked, ‘So, you got expelled again, Richard?’ We couldn’t find the cow a home for three whole days, so it stayed with us. She made me swear that no future pranks would involve livestock, and after living in close proximity with the smell that cow created I readily agreed.” 

“That poor cow.” 

“Hey! Poor us! The cow herself didn’t seem to mind at all.” 

“Uh huh,” Kate rolls her eyes at him. 

“You’re cute when you roll your eyes at me,” Castle tells her, hoping to derail her with a compliment. It works. 

“With you, I’m always laughing,” she spins right back.

“At my stupidity. And my man-child side.”

“A laugh’s a laugh, Castle,” she argues, pulling away slightly so she can look at him directly. 

“Well then, between those two, I think I got you for the rest of our lives.” She grins and kisses him, and with an electric jolt Castle realizes her hand has snuck slowly up the seam of his jeans and is now playing with the hem of his shirt. He leans forward, deepening the kiss before pulling away and stilling her creeping hand with his own. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. She’s beautiful and alluring and if he doesn’t pause this now it’ll take all the more willpower to do so later. She bites her lower lip, nodding. “I don’t want to hurt…” He gestures down her body feebly, vaguely indicating all three of her scars. 

“Castle,” she whispers, shifting impossibly closer to him. She places a single finger on his lips. “Don’t worry about it. I just…I just want you.” It’s clear in her darkened eyes, but they’re clear, gazing at him with absolute sincerity. Kate stands, pulling interlacing her fingers in his. She leads him to the bedroom and shuts the door. 

The sound of thunder and rain drops smacking into the windows wakes her in the middle of the night. For a moment she just lays there on her back, listening to the drumming of the freak July storm before turning over in bed to face him. The covers are obscuring most of his bare chest, and his mouth is open slightly as it rises and falls. As she watches him, her happiness dwindles away to be replaced with cold fear. Thunder claps, rocketing her out of the bed with images of gravestones burned into her retinas. Clothes are pulled on in a frenzy, and she dashes out the door with a jingle of keys. The elevator takes a second too long to arrive, and she sprints down the stairs so fast that are slips on a step halfway down and smacks her forehead into the concrete barrier separating the stairwells. Her hand finds the throbbing place on her skull, and when she finds no blood she’s up and running again. Kate finds herself inside Castle’s car, keys in the ignition, and all of a sudden she’s peeling away from the curb and heading out into the night. Only her years of experience driving on slick roads keep her from becoming a smoking wreck at these speeds, and she doesn’t even have a destination in mind but somehow ends up sitting on a swing set in a deserted park, freezing rain pelting her. It soaks through her clothing quickly, washing the unique blend of their sweat off her body. Castle. She grips the cold steel links of the swing in icy hands. Castle. 

His dream…his dream is good. The first good one he’s had since this whole ordeal started. No shooting, no tombstones, no hangars, just Kate in all her glory. Telling him she loves him. Showing him. 

He twists in his half-asleep state into a more comfortable position, reaching out a hand to stroke her skin. It meets empty air. His eyes blink open confusedly, and he registers first the clock that reads 4:41 A.M. and then the empty bedcovers beside him. 

He leaps to his feet, sheets flying up haphazardly behind him. He pulls on his pants from the floor but has to hunt for his shorts, eventually finding them in a heap by the door. He opens his bedroom door and peers out into the darkness, calling, “Kate? Kate?” He’s glad neither Alexis not his mother are home to witness his panic. They wouldn’t know the significance of the night—just another night in the same bed, to them—but for Kate’s sake he’s glad they’re absent. Why tonight, of all nights? Thunder claps from above him in answer, but true terror doesn’t set in until he sees his keys missing from the rack. 

No, Kate…

Where could she have gone? His first thoughts are her apartment, her dad’s cabin, Lanie’s... But none make any particular sense. Why didn’t she just wake him, turn over and tap him on the shoulder if the thunder was spooking her? 

Instantly he remembers the security measures he had installed inside the car, measures to prevent anyone from stealing it. He’d gotten the idea while he researched on the CIA with Sophia Turner. He runs back into their room for his phone, unlocks it, and opens the GPS locator he’s synched with the car’s navigation system. Kate doesn’t even know there is a password to enter when the vehicle first turns on to deactivate the system, and right now he’s ever so grateful for that small mercy. The blinking red dot shows her at a small park, and he calls the town car with a racing heart. Why there? Especially in the pouring rain. 

It takes ten minutes of droplets cascading down on his head on the sidewalk outside for the car to show up, and Castle thinks the back seats might take several years to dry with the amount of water he brought in. He’s soaked to the bone but not caring, and the idea of an umbrella has never crossed his mind. He gives the driver the directions, already mentally preparing himself for what he might find. 

When the driver stops, Castle tosses him a hundred to wait there indefinitely, and bolts out of the car. It’s not a large playground, but through the dense rainfall he can’t see more than a few yards in front of him. As he cautiously moves forward, a dark shape looms ahead, and as he gets closer he can make out that it’s a small set of swings, and there’s a figure sitting on one of them. 

“Kate!” he calls out, but she doesn’t respond, whether because of wind noise or because she’s ignoring him he doesn’t know. He reaches her, finally, and her skin is icy to his touch. “Kate, please, come on, we have to get inside.” 

“No,” she says, looking at him and shaking her head profusely. “No. It was a mistake. I’m so sorry, Castle—it was a mistake.” 

“Our…our having se—making love was a mistake? Why, Kate? Why would you think that?” 

“Because I don’t deserve you, Castle. Because I’m broken, and you deserve someone whole.” 

“Kate…” He reaches out to take her hand but she moves it out of his reach and continues as if he hadn’t interrupted. 

“Rick, you’re a wonderful man. You’re an amazing father, a genius with words. You have this special ability to make me want to smile as soon as you walk into a room. Your enthusiasm is infectious, and you always know what to say to make me feel beautiful and loved and whole. But the truth is, I’m not whole, I’m damaged. And you deserve someone who can give all of that and more back to you, not someone with as much baggage as me.” 

“That’s not baggage, Kate, that’s the past that makes you who you are. And it’s who you are that I’ve fallen in love with. You have lived one of the hardest lives I can imagine, and you are still making a difference and never asking for anything in return. You’re a trooper, Kate, a fighter, and your willpower and determination are unmatched. You’re incredible, extraordinary, courageous...the heights you can reach are boundless, Kate. You’re beautiful and generous and kind and you complete me. You’re the yin to my yang, the pen to my notebook, the cream to my coffee, the crew to my spaceship. Kate…you’re the one I’ve always dreamed of sharing my life with. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. “ 

“But...”

“I’ve never loved someone like I love you. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” 

“Are…are you sure? I just...I keep feeling like I’m not enough. I mean, I’m just a cop with a shitty past. I don’t belong in your world, the writing, the book parties, the fans…not like Meredith and Gina would have.” 

“That may have been my world,” Castle says slowly, “three years ago. But now…now my world is whichever one you’re in. I never loved Meredith or Gina, I know that now. I was only in love with the idea of a family with Meredith, and Gina and I always worked better as friends and business associates. I haven’t known true love until now, and I’m absolutely certain that you’re the one for me, the one I’ve been looking for all this time.” 

Her hand finds his, and she clasps it like a lifeline. “See? You always make me feel loved.” A smile is tugging at the corners of her lips, and Castle would give a lot to see it grace the sunrise that’s breaking through the clouds and beginning to light the world behind them. “I love you too. It’s just…sometimes it becomes too much, and all I can see are my flaws. Thank you for reminding me.” 

“Always,” he tells her. “Ready to go?”

She nods, a pensive look on her face. “That sounded a lot like a proposal.” 

“No ring,” he points out. “But how about this: it’s a promise to propose, someday, when we’re both ready for it. Agreed?” 

“Agreed.” She stands and hugs him tightly, chin resting on the crook of his shoulder. “Let’s go home.” 

Chapter Text

“Are you ready?” Castle looks at her with a mix of concern and…is that excitement? Must be. Oddly, it reassures her. 

“Yeah.” She nods at him and he raps his knuckles three times against the door, their signal to L.T. 

“I still wish we’d gotten to bring the battering ram,” her partner laments. “I’ve always wanted to try that thing. Remind me to look up if you can buy one on Amazon when we get home.” It’s sad that she thinks this is normal. A battering ram, really? She can imagine all too well the loft in shambles as he learns to use the thing. He glances down at his watch. “That’s thirty seconds. Go.” 

Castle pushes the door open and away from them hard enough that it smacks against the wall behind it. Kate surges forward into the room, gun raised, vest donned, flashlight in hand. Her wrists are crossed, flashlight shining underneath her rubber firearm. Castle follows her in, but he doesn’t move enough like Esposito or Ryan for her to resist clearing an entire room by herself instead of sticking to her section as she learned in the Academy. 

There’s a door at the other end of the room, and she stops on one side of it and Castle positions himself on the other, meeting her gaze seriously. Somewhere deep down she knows it’s a simulation, just practice, no danger, but it certainly feels real enough. “Three, two, one...” he says quietly and pushes the door open with a slight bang. Kate moves swiftly into the room, eyes roving everywhere—up, down, left, and right. Something jumps out at her from behind a bookcase and she startles badly, still managing to keep her gun up. 

Somewhere in the blur that is L.T. she identifies that he’s holding a gun, and without a thought her finger’s on the trigger, not pressing, but poised heavily. The two of them are still for several seconds, Castle bobbing in the background. Then L.T. lowers his gun. “That was good, Beckett.” 

“Not good enough.” 

“A good start then. Ready to go again?” She nods, rejoining Castle and walking back to their initial point of breach and closing the door they had opened on their way. The three of them repeat the scenario, and this time she finds L.T. in the first room pointing a gun directly at her, and after a millisecond’s pause she shoots him with her own. By two in the afternoon she has explored every facet of the building and Castle’s enthusiasm has worn off. 

But she’s happy. Her adrenaline levels upon bursting through the first door have settled to near-normal spikes, and her tactical training has fully kicked in. So when Castle suggests they stop for the day—and she knows that that means they won’t do this again—she acquiesces easily. They offer to take L.T. for a drink but he declines, wishing her luck on her reexaminations and returning home to spend some quality time with his son on his day off. 

Castle proposes midday s’morelets and she shoots that idea down quickly, but Kate does agree that dinner tonight with Alexis, Martha, and her dad sounds like a wonderful idea. He proposes going to the store for ingredients and she happily agrees. 

Accompanying a rich man-child on a shopping trip, it turns out, is a very interesting experience. She was not aware just how much ice cream the Castles consume, but either he isn’t planning on going shopping for the next year or they each eat a carton a week. Then there’s the chocolate, marshmallows, and carton of eggs, and she pretends vociferously she doesn’t know exactly what those will end up in. Yet another item on Castle’s mental list is bottles of chocolate syrup—apparently he believes in fetching the desserts first despite the fact that half of them belong in a freezer case. Then it’s the expensive wine, which she does enjoy picking out, and finally the ingredients for dinner—a large hunk of steak, russet potatoes, and the makings of caesar salad. Her mouth is watering just at the thought. 

Jim arrives exactly at six o’clock, and Kate invites him inside with a tight hug. He appraises her with his eyes, and he smiles upon seeing her look healthy, happy, and whole. She leads him to the kitchen where Castle greets him as well, balancing a bowl of salad in one hand and four wine glasses in the other. 

Alexis bounds down the stairs just in time to lay out the napkins and silverware and say a quick hello to Jim before it’s time to eat. Martha sweeps in the door at the last minute, gushing apologies for her lateness. Food is served and they all dig in, Martha starting off the conversation with, “So, Katherine, when’s requalification going to be?” 

“Soon,” Kate smiles at her with a glance at Castle. “I’m going to call the precinct tomorrow and set a date. Sometime next week.” 

“Nervous?” her father asks. 

She laughs. “Of course. But I think I’ll be ready.” 

“You will be,” Castle promises. 

After dinner, Jim takes her aside quietly. “How are you, really?” 

“I’m good, Dad,” she smiles. His eyes search her face for a moment, but she means what she said. “I’m ready to go back to work. Dr. Burke practically said so the last time I was there, last week.” 

“Practically,” the lawyer in him repeats. 

“He’ll say it for sure tomorrow,” Kate tells him. “It’s my final session with him. He won’t be the one clearing me for duty, but…it’ll be good going in there having his confidence with me.” 

“If you’re not sure on your own, Katie… No one would fault you if you needed—wanted—a little more time off.” 

“No, Dad, really. Castle and I have been working on it, and I can do it. I can. I can shoot, and I can have a gun pointed at me.” 

Jim smiles sheepishly. “Yes, because that’s exactly what a father wants to hear.” 

Kate laughs lightly and envelops him in a hug. “I can keep my head now, no matter what I’m facing, do my best to make it so everyone comes out alive. And, if it comes down to it, I can shoot them before they shoot me.” She pulls back, looking into her father’s proud, if misty eyes. “Besides, Castle has my back. I’m ready to start putting bad guys behind bars again.” 

“Officer Hastings,” she says.

“Detective Beckett,” her fellow officer replies, her voice slightly tinny down the phone line. “How are you?” 

“I’m good,” Kate says. “How’d you get stuck on desk duty? Problem with the new Captain? Montgomery was always fond of you, but from what I’m told Victoria Gates runs an entirely different rodeo.” 

“No, no, nothing like that,” Hastings says. “I was chasing a suspect down 2nd. Wrenched my arm in the takedown. What can I do for you, Detective?” 

“I was actually looking to make an appointment to requalify,” Kate tells her. She’s sitting on the couch with her cell phone pressed to her ear. 

“Just a second, Detective.” Kate can detect the tapping of keys on the other end. “According to your file, the first day you are legally able to requalify is next Monday, the eighteenth, but unfortunately the necessary facilities are being used for some special training of the new uniforms. The first day they’re available is Thursday the twenty-first.” 

“Schedule me for then.” 

“All right, Beckett. You’ll be put through the obstacle course, tactical, and a psychological assessment. You’ll also need to bring your medical clearance form from your surgeon.” 

“Got it, thanks, Hastings. What time should I arrive?” 

“You should get here by ten for the physical portion and then there’ll be a break before Dr. Carter will see you at two-thirty.” 

“Okay, sounds good. Hope your arm feels better,” Kate says.

“Thanks.” Hastings terminates the call.

“All set?” Castle asks, coming into the room from the kitchen.

“Yep. Thursday,” she responds. “Once more unto the breach.”

He offers her the plate in his hands with mocking, childlike innocence. “For strength?” 

“Castle, I am not eating that.” 

Chapter Text

As Kate steps into the office, her eyes roam the room. They have before, of course, but this time it’s not because of an overhanging feeling of fear. This time it’s because this is her last visit to this office, a place that has contributed to her recovery more than she can say. 

“Please, have a seat,” Dr. Burke requests with a gentle smile. 

“Thanks.” Kate does, sinking into the cushion more so than she has in the past, when she was perched on the edge of it ready to run at the slightest provocation. 

“It’s good to see again, Kate,” Dr. Burke says. 

“You too,” she replies, meaning it. 

“Am I correct in assuming this will be our last session together?” 

“Yeah,” Kate smiles. “I’m requalifying on the twenty-first.” 

“Do you believe you are ready?” 

“I do.” 

The corners of his mouth rise. “I think you are as well. But tell me, how have your last few weeks been?” 

“Well, Castle and I are still together. We worked with a guy from my precinct to practice for the tactical assessment, and Castle and I have been to the shooting range a couple times.” 

Burke narrows his eyes shrewdly. “What did this ‘practice’ entail?”

Kate sighs. “Basically me hunting him through some doors and him pointing a gun at me.” 

To his credit, Dr. Burke neither sighs nor gives any indication that she was wrong for implementing such forceful tactics on herself. It is almost like he was expecting it or used to it from her. 

…Which he probably is. 

“And do you feel that has helped you?”

“Very much. I can do the things I need to do my job now.” 

“What about emotionally?” 

That stops her a moment. “I’m…I’m more confident. It helps not having to worry—as much—about whether I’ll be able to handle myself. It makes me more focused on getting it done rather than pausing to wonder ‘will I be able to.’” 

Burke appears pensive, thoughtful. “Tell me about your shooting, Kate.” 

She takes a deep, steadying breath as she recovers from the abruptness of the question. But when she starts, her voice is neutral, calm and assured: “It was my Captain’s funeral, Captain Roy Montgomery. They asked me to give the eulogy, and I agreed. I was standing at the podium. My partner was a bit off to my side, and my fellow detectives and best friend were among the crowd. I was only a few sentences in when I heard the shot, and the next thing I knew I was on the ground with Castle lying over me, staring at my chest in horror. He…” she falters for a moment, remembering the anguish in his eyes and voice, telling her he loved her. “He begged me to stay. I lost consciousness, fell in and out through the ambulance ride and in the operating room.” 

“Very good,” Dr. Burke praises. “Yes, that is what I’d hoped you’d achieve. You have nothing to worry about for the psychological exam, Kate. You’ve come so far since the day I first met you at the hospital. You have a lot to be proud of.” 

“I know,” Kate smiles, dipping her head slightly, “thank you.” 

“Best of luck to you, Kate, in all your future endeavors. And if you ever feel the need to talk again, my door is always open.” 

“Kate?”

“Mmm?”

“How long have you been up?”

“’While.” 

“What are you doing?” He approaches her with sleep-blurred steps, placing a hand on her shoulder. She’s seated on an extra tall stool in his kitchen, somehow managing to tuck her legs to her chest too. The dark sky outside the window holds her gaze. “Come back to bed. You should be well-rested for tomorrow. Today.” 

“I’m okay here.” 

He encircles his arms around her from behind, burying his face in her silky hair. He holds her for a few seconds, then whispers in her ear, “Please?” 

At first she doesn’t move, just sits, statue-like, mind filled with an inexplicable haze that crowds out all else. She hears him but doesn’t hear him, ears working fine but brain not ready for signals from the outside world when so much is going on inside. Then, like falling through the ice into freezing water, she registers his words and shivers slightly. Kate slides forward off the stool, standing on unsteady legs. “’Kay.” 

Castle smiles in relief in the darkness, hand reaching down to interlock fingers with hers, and she lets him lead her back to their bedroom. 

But she doesn’t sleep, and knowing that he doesn’t either, each of them breathing softly and slowly in a futile attempt to fool the other. Around three o’clock her eyelids finally begin to dip lower, to stay closed longer, and utter exhaustion overtakes her disquieted mind. 

In the morning her alarm wakes them earlier than either of them are used to anymore, and she immediately slips out of bed and closes the bathroom door before he’s even managed to peel open his eyes. When at last some measure of awareness has returned he registers the sound of the water running and pulls himself out of bed to put on his blue robe and head out to start a pot of coffee. 

Caffeinated, he thinks, for this morning. Her dietary restrictions have been all but lifted, and with the amount of sleep she got last night she’ll need it. His own actions seem sluggish, as evidenced by the way he smacks the back of his hand accidentally against the metal faucet. 

Swearing lightly under his breath, he heats a pan for eggs and cracks several into a bowl with a dash of milk and sprinkling of salt and pepper. Kate appears minutes later, hair just drier than ‘dripping’ and says quietly that she’ll take over from there so he can shower. He agrees readily, relinquishing the spatula to her. 

Kate absentmindedly moves the eggs around, listening to the steady sizzling of them in the pan. “Good morning,” greets a chirpy voice from behind her, causing her to jump and a few scraps of cooked egg to leap out of the pan. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Alexis says. 

“It’s fine,” Kate replies, heart racing.

“So, this is the big day, isn’t it?” Alexis tells her. “Nervous?” 

“Only a little,” Kate replies. “What are you doing up so early?” 

“I wanted to wish you luck,” Alexis says brightly. “Besides, once Dad drops you off at the precinct, he’s going to be a mess until he hears from you how it went. I’ll keep him company hear and prevent him from wearing a hole in our floor with his incessant pacing.” 

“Good idea,” Kate laughs in agreement. “Thanks, Alexis. I think I get a break around lunchtime; I’ll call him then. Eggs?” 

“Sure.” Kate serves them and starts two halves of a bagel going in the toaster. “But seriously, Kate, you’re going to do great.” 

Despite the fact that Alexis has no information off which to base that statement, it buoys Kate’s confidence a bit more. 

“Hey, where’s mine?” Castle asks indignantly, walking into the room in fresh clothes. 

“I annexed them,” Alexis tells him with a sly smile, gesturing at her plate.

“They’re still in the pan,” Kate rolls her eyes.

“You are evil,” Castle informs Alexis as he goes to retrieve his food. 

“You’re gullible.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Once breakfast is finished and the dishes done, it’s time to go. Castle gives his daughter a quick kiss on the top of the head, saying, “I’ll be back soon.” 

“Good luck!” Alexis calls after them, running up to envelop Kate in a hug. The soon-to-be-hopefully- reinstated detective grins and returns it, trying to use it to master the churning of her stomach. 

The drive to the precinct is one of the quietest she can remember that wasn’t during one of their fights. When they arrive, she doesn’t ask him to, but Castle accompanies her inside, leaving her to wonder whether she wants him to or not. She steps up to the counter and explains what she’s here for to the woman behind it, who directs her to wait off to the side for the arrival of Lieutenant Johnson, who’ll be in charge of her reexamination. She does as ordered, only vaguely aware of Castle sitting in the seat next to her. 

Johnson doesn’t keep her waiting long, and the large, imposing man greets her with a very firm handshake. “I’ve heard good things, Beckett. Ready to go?” 

“Yeah,” Kate nods. She turns to Castle. “See you later.” 

“Love you,” Castle says. 

“I love you too,” she replies, smiling as bravely as she can muster. 

Without looking back, she lets Johnson lead her out of the precinct and to his squad car. He only has to drive for about ten minutes to reach the NYPD-owned facility large enough to accommodate their needs. Johnson greets the uniforms inside genially, all the while leading her past the lobby and into the actual testing area. The obstacle-slash-agility course is located outside, and though Kate is initially self-conscious of being watched, she doesn’t have too much difficulty completing it. Her time is mediocre by her standards but still a passing time, and she knows that she could have shaved off a few seconds if she’d executed that barrel roll a bit better and not favored her right side. Kate doesn’t know if Johnson noticed that or not, or whether it will count as points against her, but either way she did manage to make it through the course without any loud protestations from her scars. Her running time is a bit better than she expected, and she’s pleased with it. 

The shooting range is next, and Johnson seems a mite bit impressed with what she can do with her Sig Sauer. He says nothing, however, and just dismisses her for a thirty-minute lunch break with the reminder that she’s not to leave the building and that there are well-stocked vending machines in the lobby. 

Well-stocked proves to be true, but not cheap—she ends up shelling out $6.50 for a bottle of water and bag of chips that she barely tastes. All of a sudden there’s a screeching of metal chairs and she has company at her small table, Ryan and Esposito grinning at her in their identical way. “Hey, Beckett,” Espo greets her. “We were in the neighborhood, thought we’d drop by.” 

“Yes, well, we’re technically not supposed to be here, so we can’t stay long,” Ryan adds. 

“Thanks for coming,” Kate says, both surprised and grateful.

“How’s it going so far?” Esposito asks.

“Pretty good. Just psych left, although that one might be the one I’m most nervous for.” 

“Hey, if you start to feel overwhelmed, just imagine Castle kissing you,” Ryan suggests. They both look at him. 

“Where did that come from, dude?” Espo asks. 

“It’s what I do with Jenny when I get fed up with paperwork,” Ryan ducks his head. 

Esposito rolls his eyes. “When did you go so soft?” he grumbles, but Kate’s just laughing. The last thing she expected to be doing in the minutes before judgment time. “We’d better go,” Esposito says. “Kick ass in there, Beckett.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “It’s a psych session.” 

“Okay then. Keep your cool in there so you can kick ass later with us, Beckett.” 

“Better.” She stands. “Thanks for coming, guys.” 

They’re gone barely a minute and she’s barely picked at the food that’s making her stomach roll unpleasantly when Johnson returns, beckoning her to him. He directs her to the room of the NYPD psychiatrist. 

Kate pauses in front of the door as Johnson retreats back down the hallway, finger resting gently on the knob. With a deep breath, she pulls it open, admitting herself into a semi-dark room with a middle-aged woman with highlights sits at a high desk. 

“Detective Beckett?” the woman questions, tone more neutral than she had expected. 

“Yes, that’s me,” Kate answers. She reminds herself that this woman is not Dr. Burke and is not her personal resource for counseling, something it seems she’d forgotten on the ride over. The woman isn’t here to help Kate, just assess her. This is going to be nothing like her sessions with Dr. Burke. 

The thought instills even more fear into her. 

Desperate for a soothing distraction before the woman starts analyzing her—as if she hadn’t the moment Kate walked in—her thoughts stray to Ryan’s suggestion from a few minutes ago and an unbidden smile curves her mouth slightly upwards. 

“Have a seat, Detective,” the woman instructs. “My name is Hanelle Victoria, and I’ve worked as a psychiatrist for the NYPD for twenty years. I’m going to ask you some questions to make sure you are prepared to return to active duty. Are you ready?” 

“Yes,” Kate replied, leaning forward slightly in her seat. 

“How much do you remember of your shooting?” 

It feels like the first time she’d stepped into Dr. Burke’s. She’d exactly this uncomfortable then, too. Except then it hadn’t counted for anything; she could have run screaming out of the office and no one save Castle would have known and cared, but now such a response can ruin everything. Everything. “I remember everything,” she says quietly in a much different voice than the one running rampant in her head. She is in control. 

“Tell me,” Victoria says. 

“I was standing at the podium, giving a eulogy for my former Captain. Before I knew anything had happened, my partner tackled me to the ground, and there was this huge pain in my chest. Looking back on it, I guess I heard the gunshot as well, but it didn’t register. I passed in and out of consciousness in the ambulance and during surgery.” She tries not to make it sound as if she’d memorized it, as that kind of preparation isn’t likely to go over well in this setting. It’s enough information that the psychiatrist will believe she’s not avoiding anything, but not so much as she could share. 

“The gunshot didn’t register?” Victoria blinks, leaning forward. “You were an NYPD detective, and a gunshot didn’t register?” 

Kate frowns, agitated. “There was a lot going on. And no one expects there to be a gunfight at a funeral!” 

The psychiatrist purses her lips slightly, writing something Kate can’t quite see on her report. You were an NYPD detective… Kate doesn’t like the way she used ‘were.’ “And how do you feel the shooting as affected you physically?” 

“I passed the obstacle course,” Kate replies. “Therapy was hard, but I got through it.” Victoria jots something down. 

“Do you feel ready to be back in the field, knowing the physical strength, flexibility, and agility that might be required of you during, say, a takedown?” 

“Yes.” 

“What about emotionally? Dreams, nightmares? Lost friendships? Where is your partner now, the one who knocked you down at the funeral? The other detectives you work closely with at the Twelfth, have you kept in contact with them?” 

It takes a moment for Kate to digest the question, long as it is. “I had nightmares at first, but they’ve tapered off.” She doesn’t say why, not that she fully knows herself. Castle and time, she suspects, have something to do with it. “My partner took care of me back when I couldn’t do much for myself. He’s been…indispensable in all of this.” She smiles slightly in spite of herself. “Esposito and Ryan, the other detectives, we’ve had lunch a few times. It’s been hard to schedule with my recovery and their working long hours, but we did. They wished me luck for today.” 

More notes on her report. “Other friends, outside of the police force?” 

“My best friend, Lanie, I’ve probably seen most of all besides Cas—my partner. Phone calls, lunch, texts.” 

“Family?” 

“There’s just my dad, and he stayed with us a while in the beginning. Now he comes over for dinner.” 

“Detective, would you say your shooting has brought any positive results into your life?” 

For once, Kate doesn’t know what the right answer is and is groping blindly. “Not that I can think of, no.” She can’t mention Castle. Partners aren’t allowed to form romantic relationships within the NYPD. 

“So you would say that the person responsible for all of this caused you a tremendous amount of pain and took away two months of your life.” 

“That just about sums it up, yes,” Kate says cautiously. 

“So when you get your badge back, and your gun, are you going to go hunting him?” In response to Kate’s stare, Victoria continues, “It would only be logical. He took away precious months of your life, and it’s only fair that you should take some of his—whether that be jail time, or…something else. What would you say the correct punishment for the shooter would be, Detective Beckett?” 

Her nails are digging into the skin of her hand. “I would follow every lead to its end. I would leave no stone unturned. But if I reached that end and no clue was left, I would stop. I would put it away, because to continue would just be letting him steal more of my time.” 

“Like you did with your mother’s case?”

“I put that away,” Kate states, tongue stiff in her mouth. 

“Yes, admirably. But after what cost? What emotional toll? Research has shown that PTSD can be especially acute in those that have gone through trauma before. At nineteen, that can’t have been easy for you.” 

“Is losing a parent so brutally ever easy for anyone?” 

“True enough, detective. But most don’t have the chance to spend every waking moment using police resources to try to track down her killer.” 

“I put it behind me,” Kate says, deadly serious. An extra long scribble on her report. 

“Detective, I have one final question,” Victoria tells her. “Do you feel that you are able to uphold the oath you swore as a cadet graduating from the Academy? Do you still swear to well and truly serve the city of New York without favor or affection, malice or ill-will, preserve the peace and prevent to the best of your ability all offenses against that peace, and that while you continue to be a police officer you will to the best of your skills and knowledge discharge all the duties thereof faithfully, according to the law?” 

“I do.” 

“You may go, Detective Beckett. I have all I need here,” the psychiatrist dismisses her. “Your captain will have my assessment and your results by the time you get back.” 

Chapter Text

The door handle is cool under her her hand as she twists it, letting herself into the loft. There’s a shout and the sound of something breakable and expensive being knocked over from the study before Castle and Alexis emerge. “You forgot to call!” Alexis exclaims, running up to her. 

“Oh, Alexis, I’m sorry,” Kate replies. “During break Espo and Ryan showed up to cheer me on and then it was time to go back in. It didn’t even occur to me.” 

“It’s okay,” Alexis promises. “So? And?” She looks at her expectantly, poised to jump up and down upon the reception of good news. 

Kate can’t stop the smile from spreading across her face as she pulls her badge out to flash at big anxious Castle and little red-headed excitable Castle. “I passed!” 

“That’s great!” Alexis shrieks, springing into the air and engulfing Kate. As soon as she releases, tall, muscular, familiar-smelling Castle’s arms embrace her. His breath tickles her ear. 

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Kate whispers back. “I love you. I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

He pulls away and winks at her. “And don’t you forget it.”

She falls into his hug again. “Never.”  

“So, when do you start again?” Alexis asks, chipper and breaking their moment. Perhaps that was her plan. 

“Desk duty tomorrow through Monday to get back into it, and then I’m waiting for a body call,” Kate answers with a grin. 

Over Alexis’s head, Castle mouths, “Booty call,” and snickers. She rolls her eyes at him. 

“Is my dad being inappropriate again behind me?” Alexis asks without turning around. 

“No,” Beckett replies at the same time as Castle says truthfully, “Yes.” 

“Okay, I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” Alexis smiles. At Kate’s look, she adds, “Senior year’s coming up fast and all my college-destined classmates have started writing their submission essays already. I promised Paige I’d help her with hers since I already got into Stanford.” She nods at Kate as if confirming something to herself. “We’ll make it a sleepover to give you two some alone time. Congratulations again, Kate.” She gives Castle a kiss on the cheek, scoops up her purse and phone, and exits the loft. 

“Sometimes I worry that she knows all too much of what goes on around here,” Kate muses, staring after her. 

“Well, in all the years she’s lived here, between me and Mother if she’s not scarred already she never will be,” Castle says. Kate swats him on the arm with the back of her hand. 

“Some parent you are, Castle.” 

“I’ll remember you said that when we’ve got a little one of our own that won’t stop crying all hours of the night.” He stuck his tongue out at her. “So, dinner: in or out?” 

“Something quiet in, I think,” she replies. “Besides, that makes it easy if we get…distracted.” 

He cocks his head, pulling his ‘Dad knows best…but no one listens!’ apron—a Father’s Day gift from Alexis—off the shelf and donning it. “Detective Beckett, I like the way you think.”

They’re lying in his bed together, leaning up against the headboard in various states of undress. She’s reading a magazine by flashlight; he’s typing away on his computer. Or at least, he’s pretending to. Every so often he sneaks a glance her way, but she seems utterly absorbed in the article she’s reading. Something about celebrity-what’s-her-face’s perfect wedding. He returns his attention to the final draft of Heat Rises. 

“I gave up, Castle.” Kate’s voice is hollow. She’s no longer looking at her magazine but staring off into space. The sudden change in her demeanor is starling. 

“What do you mean?” 

“In the hospital. I gave up on you. On us.” 

“Kate…having moments of doubt isn’t the same as giving up.” 

“Yeah, I did. I tried so hard to shut you out, but I couldn’t.” She leans into him, wet tears soaking into his pajamas as she sets the magazine down on the nightstand. “I’m so sorry I gave up on us, Castle, I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he hugs her to him, shutting his computer lid screen and discarding it to the side. “It’s okay. You came back to me, you let me in, and that’s what matters. Look at me.” She does, watery eyes locked with his. “I will never, ever give up on you.” 

“I won’t on you either,” she promises. “I love you, Castle.” His heart flutters in his chest at the words. 

“I love you too, Kate. What...what brought this on?” 

She laughs quietly at herself. “That stupid magazine. Looking at that wedding dress, it…it made me think about all the things I nearly missed by being my usual, closed-off self in the hospital. If you weren’t so doggedly persistent…” She snuggles into him, cuddling up against him in the darkness, and for a while they are silent. He breaks it. 

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened to you if it wasn’t for your mom’s murder?” 

“Only every day, Castle.” Kate pulls away from him slightly. 

“But I mean, who you would be. Would you be the same person you are now? How would you be different? How would your life be different?” 

“This is too deep of thinking for this late of night.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He doesn’t sound all that apologetic. They lie there on their backs next to one another for a while, listening to each other’s breathing while lost in their own thoughts. 

“I wouldn’t carry this weight on my shoulders,” she says finally. He’s quiet; she wonders if he’s asleep. She feels the need to keep going, whether he’s listening or not. “I would be…freer, I guess. Freer with my emotions, my love… I wouldn’t be a cop. I would have gone to Stanford, become a lawyer like my mom. I think I still would’ve ended up with you, though.” 

“How so?” He is awake after all. 

“The power of the universe,” she says simply, flipping onto her side to face him. They’re both smiling. “I would have gone to so many of your book signings; we were bound to meet over and over again. Maybe one of those times we got to talking or maybe you liked what you saw as you were signing my chest with that little black pen.” 

Castle sits bolt upright in bed. “I’ve signed your chest?” 

Kate twirls a piece of hair over her mouth, eyes dancing mischievously. “Yeah.” 

“Tell me there are pictures!” he exclaims. 

She grins in spite of herself, teasing him. “Several.” 

“Can I see them?” 

She appears to ponder that for a moment, hand sliding not-so-innocently across his chest as she leans closer to him. “In the morning. I have…other plans for us right now.” 

“Okay,” Castle says, and his sudden intake of air almost chokes him. “Okay. But…but before we begin, can I have that in writing?” 

Chapter Text

Kate’s day is not going well. The absolute joy of being back at the precinct and back to her job wore off well over two months ago—it’s now December, how the time flies—and she is once again perfectly capable of having truly crappy days. Even if disastrous would be too heavy-handed a word to describe it, so far it had been annoying beyond belief. It pissed her off. 

It had started out with some of this:

“Hey, look, Kate, a chicken!” Castle points to it like it’s an alien who’s just landed on Earth. 

“Come on, we need to talk to Mrs. Roscoe,” she replies. They didn’t have time for his antics, as Mrs. Roscoe would soon be leaving by plane. “Ee-i-ee-i-oh your butt over here.” 

“Ooh! A cow!” 

And some of this: 

Castle looks down at the box of latex gloves apprehensively. “Do you have any…other…color?” 

Kate glances at him. “No, why?” 

“Well, there are two of us and the gloves are blue...” 

“So?” 

“Nothing, it’s fine,” Castle pulls them on. Kate sighs exasperatedly and tugs him towards the crime scene. She will never understand him. 

So it’s with great relief when she meets up with Esposito and Ryan again, standing over a pool of blood on the pavement of the tight alleyway. “Sorry we’re late,” she calls out to them as they approach. “We were finishing up the interview with Roscoe just outside the city when you called.” It’s the second body in two days, giving them two cases to work simultaneously, all before leaving for California to see Alexis off to college. She could, of course, stay behind and work, but she really wants to go. “Did Lanie already leave with the body?” 

“Yep,” Espo confirms. “Vic’s Amy Bennett, twenty-four. We know it’s not a mugging gone wrong; we found her wallet on her with fifty bucks in cash and three credit cards still inside.” 

“Cause of death?” Kate asks. 

“Lanie wanted to get her back to the morgue as soon as possible, but COD was pretty obvious. A slug straight through the neck, severing the...” 

“Carotid,” Ryan nods.

“…carotid artery around 1:00 A.M.” Esposito turns to his partner. “Dude, I was going to say that.” 

“Sorry, it sounded like you weren’t,” Ryan shrugs. He looked at Beckett. “Uniforms were chatting with the neighbors, said that a scary-looking man likes to hang out in this alleyway at night. They had his name since they’d called the police on him a few times, but he wasn’t breaking any laws by just loitering. He made them feel unsafe, but there was nothing the uniforms dispatched could do about it. David Pratt, they’re processing him in now. We’ll test his prints against any Lanie finds on the body, but at the very least he might have seen something if this alley is his usual haunt.” 

“Good to know things are well-taken care of when traffic gets bad,” Kate nods her appreciation. The ride back to the precinct is short and uneventful, and once she arrives she begins pondering the board of their other case, as there’s nothing to do until Lanie has some more information for them. Esposito and Ryan are taking point on Pratt’s interrogation, and Castle is sitting next to her desk playing with the latex gloves he’d refused to take off. After about an hour of staring at the murder board and hearing Castle’s attempts to make inappropriate noises by stretching and snapping the rim of the gloves against his skin, she goes for coffee. Coffee helps. 

The phone rings and Castle jolts out of his latex-related stupor. He looks around, but Beckett’s nowhere in sight. Neither are the boys, or, happily, Gates. He picks it up. “Detective Beckett’s phone.” 

“Castle?” comes Lanie’s incredulous voice from the other end. “You’re not allowed to answer Beckett’s phone!” 

“Yes, I am,” Castle smirks. 

“Since when?” she demands. “I thought you two were trying to keep this whole relationship thing on the down low for Gates?” 

“Since…” Castle really can’t think of a good answer for that one. “Can…is there something I can do for you?” 

“Yeah, write this down,” Lanie instructs. He makes motion for neither pen nor paper. “I’ve got a partial off the shell casing. No matches in the system or from Mr. Pratt, but I did find some trace DNA.” She pauses. “Are you writing this down?” 

“Yes,” Castle lies, looking around at the empty desk. “Castle!” 

“Okay, hang on,” he says, rummaging through the box at his feet with one hand. He can hear her huff on the other end. Castle spies a pad of paper near the bottom of the box and lifts the line-of-elephants figurine. He turns to set it on the desk out of the way to be faced with an angry Beckett. 

“What are you doing?” she demands.

“Ooh, you are in trouble,” Lanie says in his ear. 

“I’m not in trouble,” Castle whispers into the phone before placing it back on the desk with what he hopes is an apologetic expression. “Lanie got a partial print. It’s not a match for Pratt. He’s not our guy.” 

“Who said you could answer my phone?” she asked. She looks down at the row of elephants still in his grip. “And why are you going through my stuff?!” 

“I…I was just looking for a pad of paper,” he tells her, giving her the most innocent look he can. She plucks the elephants out of his hand with a glare, but before she can do anything further Esposito walks up holding a manila folder of case-related material. 

“Pratt says he did see a guy, and Tory got a hit on a security camera of him. Name’s Victor Marcel,” he informs them. “Coffee shop, fifty-third and ninth.” 

Much to Kate’s relief, Marcel is their guy, and stupid enough to stash enough evidence at his apartment to convict him. Their other case is shut down by Lanie when it’s revealed to be an assisted suicide after all, wrapping everything in a neat, if depressing, little bow. Castle’s out on a last minute shopping trip for college necessities, and Alexis is spending her last day in New York with Paige. Castle graciously agreed to pick her up tonight directly from Paige’s house with her luggage in time to catch the redeye. 

Castle’s phone rings; he must have forgotten it when he left for the store. Kate sighs at the incessant buzzing, and then stares at the phone as an idea occurs to her. She slides off the couch and picks it up. A proper revenge, especially if this call is something embarrassing. It’s a blocked number, which is just as well—Castle didn’t know it would be Lanie when he picked her phone up. 

She answers it and barely gets out, “Richard Castle’s phone,” before the person starts talking. It’s no one she recognizes, a deep voice that is unmistakably male. 

“The man you’re looking for,” he says, “is William Bracken.” The line goes dead. 

“I’m back,” Castle announces, opening the door and putting his jingling keys on the rack. Kate’s sitting looking somewhat perplexed on the couch. “Is something wrong?” 

She rises to meet him. “Castle, do you know anyone who calls from a blocked number?” 

“Not off the top of my head, no,” he replies, bemused. That’s a lie; he can think of at least two, but she can’t know about them. “Why…why do you ask?” 

“Someone just called, and I answered it,” she says, holding up his cell. “It was a blocked number, and all he said was, ‘The man you’re looking for is William Bracken.’ Do you have any idea what he was talking about? And who’s William Bracken?” 

“Let’s look him up,” is all Castle can say in answer. He gestures to Beckett’s computer, and she hands it to him, still looking majorly confused. He types the name into Google and starts scanning the results. “William Bracken, hunter, tradesman, and surveyor who explored Kentucky in the last decades of the 18th century...guessing it’s not him. Umm…William F. Bracken, owns an art studio in Tallahassee…” 

“Still not ringing any bells?” Kate asks. 

Castle shakes his head, activating the scroll bar. “William H. Bracken, New York State Senator. William Bracken, professor at UC Santa Barbara. William Bracken, head of a toy company that makes finger puppets for children. This is hopeless.” 

“We don’t even know who that guy was or what he was talking about,” Kate agrees. “For all we know, he could have had a wrong number, or…” She trails off at the sudden stiffening of Castle’s back. “What? You got something?” 

“Senator,” he breathes, more to himself than her. “A politician.” 

“So?” 

“Hang on a minute.” He clicks on the link to the Senator’s homepage, flooding his screen with a whole lot of red, white, and blue. “See that?” he turns his computer towards her. “See what it says there? FUTURE FORWARD.” 

Kate stares at it intently and then returns her gaze to him with a bemused look. “Yeah, it’s his campaign slogan. So what?” 

“Listen, Kate, there’s something I have to tell you,” he says seriously. He sets the laptop to the side, gently closing the lid. “I think I know who hired Maddox to shoot you.” 

“Bracken?” Her eyes widen in disbelief. “How? Castle, if this is one of your crazy conspiracy theories...” 

He takes a deep breath. “This is going to be hard, but hear me out. Please. I wouldn’t joke about this.” She gives him the slightest of nods. “Before Montgomery went into that hangar, he sent a package to someone he trusted. It contained information damaging to the person behind all this. Montgomery was trying to protect you. But the package didn’t arrive until after you’d been shot.” She frowns, questions obviously on the tip of her tongue, but he doesn’t stop long enough to let her ask. “Montgomery’s friend struck a deal with them. If they left you alone, the package and the information inside would never see the light of day. But they made one condition—you had to back off. In order for the deal to work, someone had to make sure you weren’t pursuing it. And that man chose me.” Castle swallows. “The first day I went back to the precinct—after you kicked me out of the hospital, it was the fifth or sixth day after you’d been shot I think—I got a call from this guy. He didn’t tell me his name, but he explained all of this to me. The stakes. The deal. What I had to do.” She’s just staring at him now, and he can’t even look at her because he’s scared of what emotions he might find written all over her face. Fear. Disbelief. Sadness. Betrayal. Anger. Hurt. Fury. 

“We were at the cabin when I got a second call from him. You were in your room, and he told me that we were breaking the deal. He said you were looking into the case right then, and that I needed to get you to stop before the people who wanted you dead noticed. So I went in and asked you to run through a scene with me to get you away from the laptop. When you were calling your dad later that afternoon, I snuck in to see how you got your hands on the case file anyway and discovered a virus on the computer. I deleted it, and the next day my phone rang. It was Mr. Smith again. He said they hadn’t noticed our infringement, but demanded I replace the virus on your machine because it was his, and it was through that that he was making sure you were still protected. And so I did.” 

“You put it back,” Kate says in a hushed voice. “You let him spy on me?” 

“It was for your protection, Kate! I didn’t have a choice! You were still pursuing your mom’s case and the only reason I even knew about it was because of Smith! I love you, and I wasn’t going to lose you to this case and those men so soon after I’d gotten you back.” Castle looks at her seriously, and she can’t figure out how to feel. 

“Castle,” she says in a low voice. “I don’t trust easily. You know that. I’ve had it broken too many times to be handing it out freely. You have to promise me you’ll never, ever keep something like this from me.” 

“Then you have to let me in on this stuff, so we can discuss it before you make any rash decisions,” Castle demands right back. “If I’m going to be a part of your life, I need to be part of your life.” Kate’s silent, staring at the couch space between them. 

“Do you really want to be in this part of my life, Castle? This is the part where people get hurt. Where people die.” 

“Yes.” Castle meets her eyes, his blue ones intense and sincere. “I want to be with you, Kate, through all of it.” 

“Fine,” she says, and it’s all she can say. “Fine.” She can’t force ‘I love you’ or even ‘thank you’ out of her mouth because she can’t thank him for risking his life for her. She can’t thank him for putting himself in danger for uncertain reward. All she knows is she can’t lose him. “Fine, Castle. I agree to your terms.” 

He blinks, surprised. “Okay then.” 

She takes a deep breath. “Is there anything else I should know? If so, this would be the time.” 

He shakes his head. “No, nothing else that I can think of. But that man on the phone? I think that was the Fox —the guy I hired to find out more about the virus. I was hoping we could use it to track him down. He has the file—he has the answers we’re looking for.” 

“And did this…Fox find Smith?” 

“No. He shut me down, told me not to call him again. But one of the forms of payment he had me use was putting a character in Heat Rises, a politician with a red-and-blue campaign pin with the letters FF. FF, Future Forward!” 

“It still could be a coincidence, Castle...” Kate says uncertainly. 

“No, Kate, it makes sense. It’s all connected. Why would the Fox’s client use a character in my books as proof the Fox had worldly connections? The only reason I can think of was that wasn’t a random suggestion, it was specifically supposed to be me. He was supposed to prove that he knew me, that he could ask a favor of me. With the new FF thing, I’m betting that Bracken planned on being able to use me to get through to you! Think about it. You’re a very private person. I’m a very public figure. You would notice if someone new showed up in your life and tried to get close to you, but me? They’re trying to use me to get to you.” 

“But there’s no evidence, or proof, or...”

“Not yet, but now we know where to start looking! We’re close, Kate,” Castle exclaims, taking her hands in his. She pulls them away, picking up the laptop, closing the lid, and setting it aside. 

“I want to believe you, Castle, but I have to follow the evidence. It sounds like too many coincidences, but I’m afraid that I just want an answer after so long that I’ll be willing to accept any theory, whether it holds up or not.” He opens his mouth to protest but she doesn’t let him, looking at her watch. “We’ve got an hour and a half before we have to pick up Alexis. Let’s load up the car, take it to my place. Now that we have a possible name, we’ll look through my mom’s stuff again. If he’s in there somewhere, then I’ll know I’m not just chasing ghosts.” 

“Okay,” Castle agrees. “You get our stuff, I’ll get Alexis’s?” 

“Sure,” Kate responds, standing from the couch. She enters her bedroom hearing him take the stairs two at a time, pausing just beyond the threshold to take a deep breath. She can’t get carried away with this. She can’t. She has to go slow, be thorough, no matter how much she just wants to drag him into her interrogation room with no evidence to speak of, rail on him for half an hour, and elicit a confession. To look him in the eyes and tell him that he’s going to prison for the rest of his life because that’s where he belongs. 

She fetches Castle’s bag and her own, running back for her hair brush when she realizes she forgot it. Castle meets her at the door and they lug the bags and suitcases into the hall, Castle making some joke about airline luggage fees ending with, “Thank God I’m rich.” 

They pile them into the trunk of the car and take off, Castle driving simply because he can. His hours spent behind the wheel had severely diminished when Kate returned to work and he was relegated to the passenger seat in her Crown Victoria again. 

The trunk cover barely fits over their baggage without warping, but she’s glad it does because it means they don’t have to cart all that stuff into her apartment and back. As soon as she’s in the door she heads for the closet where most of it is stored, taking down box after box. “I’ll start with case files, you with letters and correspondences?” Castle suggests. 

“No, she had her own language for her cases and appointments,” Kate tells him. “Neither my dad nor I were ever able to crack it, but I do have some theories on how to parse some of the words. You take the letters.” 

Castle agrees and soon they’re both silent, sifting through documents and cards and notes. It reminds her irresistibly of that first case they worked, Castle’s copycat killer and going through his fan mail. Little did she know back then, when she was furious at him for reading her so easily, that someday they’d be sitting on the floor of her own apartment doing the same thing but for her mother’s murder. 

“What about this one?” Castle asks. “It’s from a William, no last name mentioned.” He hands it to her and she scans it quickly. Her momentary excitement drains away. 

“No, William Hartford was a family friend. They used to exchange a lot of letters,” she says, handing it back. Her gaze falls on the next page of notes she’s poring over. “Hey, look at this. WHB:ADA.” 

“That’s his initials,” Castle admits. “But ADA?”

“Look it up in conjunction with his name,” Kate says. “I have a gut feeling about this. It’s him.” 

Castle pulls out his phone and stares at it for a minute, occasionally tapping the screen. Kate rocks back on her heels, trying to calm her racing heart. “Kate, Bracken was an Assistant District Attorney before he got into politics,” he says, meeting her eyes. “Maybe they met for one of the cases she was working and ended up on different sides? But what case would be worth murdering the opposition?” 

“There are other random initials, just not the name of her client…” Kate says. “Coonan never got a chance to tell me who hired him. McCallister said he was too powerful, called him the Dragon. Raglan was taken out before he could tell me anything. Bracken being in my mother’s notes is important; it just doesn’t say why he’s mentioned. That he was connected to Montgomery, Pulgatti, McCallister, and Raglan is all still just speculation besides one phone call from an unknown source. It’s so convoluted, Castle; how are we ever going to sort out all this mess?” 

“We ask the man who knows all the answers,” Castle says, realization spreading all over his face. “And I know a surefire way to get his attention. Come on, it’s back at my loft—“ 

“Rick, we can’t,” Kate says. “We have to pick up Alexis and make it to the airport. Bracken’s not going anywhere. This can wait until we get back.” 

He studies her seriously. “Kate, are you sure?” 

“Absolutely. Bracken’s taken so much from me already—I’m not missing Alexis going to Stanford. When we come back, we’ll contact Smith. For now I just want to forget all of it—focus on Alexis.” 

“Thanks,” he smiles. He glances down at his watch. “We’d really better get going; she’d kill me if I made her late to orientation at her dream school.” 

Kate nods and starts to shove the boxes under her bed for later. “Orientation, ha. You do know there’s no official orientation for semester transfers, right?” 

“What do you mean? What orientation has she been going on about all week then?” 

“Um, orientation as in being shown around by Ashley, seeing all the sights, meeting all his friends…” She laughs. “You’re dense sometimes, Castle.” 

“As long as it’s only sometimes,” he grumbles. “And other pieces of wool from my lovely daughter you’d like to pluck off my eyes?” 

As soon as Castle sees her, all thoughts of Bracken and the Johanna Beckett conspiracy fly out of his mind. It’s been just hours since he’s last seen Alexis, and she’s wearing the exact same thing as when she took off this morning: boots, jeans, a white scarf, and her fluffy-hooded brown jacket. Her purse is slung over one arm, and she just looks so grown up that at first he can’t even answer her question without bawling like a big baby. “Ready to go?” 

“Yes,” Kate says wisely from next to him when he fails to respond. She gestures for Alexis to go ahead and then loops her arm with his, leading him back to the car. “Sit in the back with her,” Kate tells him, “I’ll drive.” 

On the way to JFK Alexis chatters in the backseat with him, something about Paige and Columbia and Dartmouth. “Are you even listening, Dad?” she asks, and he’s jerked back into the present. Kate glances at them through her mirror. 

“Yes, of course I was listening,” Castle assures her without conviction. “Sorry, pumpkin, I was just thinking about when you were small.” 

“Dad, you’re not going to be one of those parents, are you?” 

“Which?” 

“The ones that can’t handle the separation so they’re constantly telling stories from when you were a kid and calling you cutesy names and end up embarrassing you in front of your new roommate?” 

“I promise I’ll stop as soon as we set foot on campus,” Castle says. “But just…indulge me for right now, okay?” 

She smiles. “Sure. But you will certainly not be mentioning to anyone—ever—that my dream school at six was the princess academy, got it?” 

“Cross my heart,” he grins. 

They arrive at the airport two hours early as is recommended, give most of their luggage to the attendant, and board first-class before anyone else does. “How did I ever survive long flights on planes before I met you?” Kate asks, reclining her seat to its maximum and nearly lying flat. “There’re blankets and everything.” 

Alexis takes the window seat like usual and Castle slips in between them. His daughter gazes out the window as the plane takes off, but soon after falls right asleep. Kate’s on the aisle end of their row with her eyes closed and her hands folded in her lap, but he can’t tell if she’s sleeping or just pretending to. If she’s faking it, he knows exactly why and he can’t help but feel a little hurt that she wouldn’t want to talk about it with him and would choose to stew in it all by herself. Then again, maybe she doesn’t want to discuss it when he’s sitting next his daughter. Or maybe he’s wrong, and she really is asleep. He’s not going to find out. 

Castle leans up against the headrest, closing his eyes as well. It’s around a seven-hour nonstop flight, so he should get some rest as well. Before he knows it all the lights are back on and the plane is trembling as its wheels meet the surface of the runway. He turns to look at Alexis, who greets him with alert eyes and an excited smile. Kate’s groggier, but she’s the first one out of her seat when the plane comes to a full and complete stop to start unloading their carry-ons from the compartment above their heads. From the pleased expression on her face he supposes she still enjoys the novelty of having full use of her arms after so many months without it. 

Upon exiting SFO they board a free shuttle to the rental car lot, where he rents their vehicle for the next two days. Coming from New York it feels like it should be two o’clock in the morning, but he has to keep reminding himself that in California it’s only eleven at night. One would think that with all the traveling he does for book tours and whatnot that he would have developed very flexible circadian rhythms, but time zones have never agreed with him. Right now the only thing his brain’s telling him is that he should be either in bed or sitting in front of his laptop staring with thick, glazed eyes at the bright screen. 

He enters the location of their hotel in Palo Alto into the Maps application of his phone and starts driving, trusting it to navigate the unfamiliar roads. Kate’s in the passenger seat passively watching the cars go by, and Alexis is perfectly content in the back. He’s putting all his energy into driving, but he’s vaguely aware that she’s pulled out her phone and is having a very animated conversation on it, full of “I’m so excited, Ash,” “I know, I can’t wait!,” and “I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight!” 

Kate looks amused by the chirpy noises coming out of his daughter in the backseat, but she doesn’t comment, probably reminiscing some Stanford memories of her own. Or memories of some ex-boyfriend. He hopes it’s the former. About thirty minutes later, they arrive in Palo Alto, and it takes only a few more to have him parked at their hotel. He goes to the front desk for the keys, as the booking was in his name, and returns with two keycards. Alexis won’t need one, as she’s only here for the night. 

The accommodations are nice, but not exactly the first-class he’s used to. There’s a TV in the cabinet that no one touches, a large bathroom, and two queen beds in the main room. Everyone turns in almost immediately, and once they’re all settled Castle reaches up and shuts off the light, plunging the room into darkness. Kate sets an appropriate alarm on her phone before snuggling down next to him. A few seconds later, Alexis asks from the next bed over, “You two are going to behave yourselves tonight, yes?” 

Castle can’t help but smile and roll his eyes. “Yes, Daughter.” 

“Thank you, Father,” she says back. If she says something else he’s not aware of it, fast asleep with Kate curled up next to him. As it should be. 

The next day is a whirlwind. Figuring out the parking rules at the university is confusing to say the least, and by the time he’s fairly certain they’re not going to get ticketed—or worse, towed—in their current spot she’s itching to go like she’s got a mouse crawling up her pant leg. Literally as soon as he touches his foot to the first cobblestone of campus Ashley appears with a posse of his college friends, crowding Alexis, who’s thrilled to see them even though he’s positive these friends are more recent than Ashley’s time in Marlowe Prep. 

Ashley greets her with an enthusiastic kiss and then one on the tip of her nose before turning to Castle and shaking his hand. The boy still calls him “sir,” a fact that pleases Castle greatly. He should wave around antique guns more often. He has to admit that Kate seems much more accepting of Ashley’s delight in being reunited with Alexis than he feels. Well, at least he talked her out of rooming with him—at least for this first year. Half-year. Uh-oh, she may have duped him on that one. 

Before he knows it they’ve seen the entire grounds on one large walking tour, have eaten in two of the cute little cafes, and have somehow ended up back at the dorms with the sun setting in the background. He knows what time it is, and it pains him. It’s time to say goodbye. 

Alexis seems to realize this too and turns to him, breaking with Ashley for what he guesses is the first time all day. “Can I have a minute alone with my dad, please?” she requests, and her boyfriend immediately nods, gives her a quick, reassuring smile, and skedaddles. She looks up at him, takes a deep breath, and envelops him in a bone-crushing hug. 

“Are you sure about this?” Castle asks her, looking directly into her eyes. “It doesn’t matter about the deposit or any of that—if you want to wait on this, Stanford will still be here come fall, and…” 

“Dad,” she stops him. “I’m ready to start college. You know that. Why are you trying to talk me out of it?”

“I’m not,” he sighs, “just giving you an out, that’s all. I’m really going to miss you, sweetie.”

“Hey,” she says, growing stern for a minute. “What did we say about cutesy names?”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Dad, there’s something I want to read you,” she tells him, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans. She pulls out a well-worn piece of binder paper. It’s about two-thirds full of his daughter’s handwriting in bright blue ink. She takes a deep breath before she starts. “There’s a universal truth that we have to face, whether we want to or not,” she begins, glancing up at him at the end of the sentence. “Everything eventually ends. As much as I’ve looked forward to this day, I’ve always disliked endings. The end of summer, the final chapter of a great book—“ His mouth opens slightly, but he remains silent. “—parting ways with a close friend. But endings are inevitable. Leaves fall, we close the book, you say goodbye. Today is one of those days for us. Today we say goodbye to everything that was familiar.” Her eyes are no longer dry and his aren’t either. “Everything that was comfortable. We’re moving on. But just because we’re leaving, and that hurts, there are some people who are so much a part of us they’ll be with us no matter what.” She looks up at him again, meeting his eyes. “They are our solid ground. Our North Star. And the small clear voices in our hearts that will be with us. Always.” 

“Alexis, that’s…” He doesn’t know what to say. 

She shrugs a bit self-consciously. “It’s the speech I wrote to try out for salutadictorian if I didn’t end up valedictorian. I was going to give it at our high school graduation.” 

“It’s beautiful,” he tells her, still slightly in awe. “But…but that’s kind of just what I mean: you’re skipping your last semester of high school! You’ll never get this time back. You’ll never get to give that speech at graduation. You’ll never get to go to senior prom. There’s so much you’ll never get to experience—“ 

“Dad!” She’s looking at him, indignant.

“I’m sorry, pumpkin. I’m just going to miss you, that’s all.”

She goes in for another hug, holding him tightly. “I’m going to miss you too, Dad.”

Chapter Text

“Yes, yes, I know, Gina, I’ll…” Castle says into his phone as he and Kate ride the elevator up to her apartment. She’s hugging her laptop to her chest. It’s their ticket to contact Smith. 

“No excuses this time, Rick,” his publisher growls. “Last time you told me I could schedule the extra signings in the Midwest myself you ended up only going to half of them and yelling at me that I overbooked you during Alexis’s finals. So yes, you must come in.” 

“Can’t it wait until the weekend? Sometime else? I’m with Kate today.” 

“Well, I’m sorry I’m interrupting quality time with your girlfriend, but the hotels and book stores have to be booked by the end of the day. It’ll only take an hour, and you can look over the promotional posters we’ve designed while you’re here. Two birds with one stone.” 

“Gina…” 

“Non-negotiable.” The phone clicks dead in his hand. 

“You have to go in?” Kate asks hollowly, trying her best to look nonchalant. 

“Gina,” Castle shakes his head. “It’ll only be an hour, Kate. Or I can blow it off. For you, I will. Your mom’s murder is more important than any book tour.” 

“No, go. Bracken’ll still be here in an hour.”

He kisses her quickly. “Faster I get going, the sooner I can get back. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He leaves, getting back into his car and breaking no fewer than three traffic laws in his hurry to get to Black Pawn. His ex-wife greets him with her usual drawl, ushering him into a large meeting with herself, his agent Paula, and a room full of Black Pawn executives all itching to know how many publicity interviews they can wheedle out of him and where he sees the next Nikki Heat book going. All in all, the meeting lasts over two hours before he manages to extricate himself from the mess, citing having to pick up his daughter as the reason for his disappearance—after finding that a date with Kate, attending a show of his mother’s, and police work aren’t satisfactory excuses for the vultures in suits to release him. He strongly suspects at least a little guilt-driven mercy on Gina’s part in letting him go, confirmed by her walking him to the elevator and muttering, “I know your daughter’s in California,” before letting him leave. 

When he arrives back at Kate’s apartment, he knocks on the door lightly. There’s no immediate response, so he pulls out the spare key she’d given him and unlocks it himself, stepping inside. The first thing he notices is the note sitting on the table. It’s her handwriting, without a doubt. 

Gone to the cemetery. Needed some clarity. Sorry I couldn’t wait. -KB 

He can’t blame her for going; he’d been gone much longer than he’d meant to be. He pulls out his phone and sends her a quick text, not expecting a reply until she is ready to leave. He knows she often turns her phone off when visiting her mother, as a sort of ritualistic sign of respect. 

He looks around for something to do, eventually deciding on the TV while he waits for her return. It takes him a minute to locate the remote. He hits the on button and it flares to life before him, some news station. “Breaking news, this just in,” the female anchor announces. He’s only half-listening. “New York Senator William Bracken has been shot and taken St. John’s Hospital in critical condition.” All of Castle’s senses go on full alert and he leans closer to the television without even realizing. “The Senator was shot by an unknown gunman while giving a speech for his upcoming Senatorial campaign. At this time the hospital personnel have been able to confirm nothing about his condition except that he is in surgery. Police at the scene have refused to comment so far, saying they are working to find and apprehend the shooter.” 

Kate, he thinks, reaching for his phone again. He calls her once, twice, still staring in shock and horror at the TV screen. A set of keys jingles in the lock and Castle hurriedly hits mute on the television, getting up swiftly to face her. “Kate, where were you?” he demands before she’s even stepped in the door. 

“The cemetery, Castle, didn’t you see my note?” she asks, frowning. 

“So you weren’t at his speech? You aren’t...you aren’t the shooter?” 

“Castle, what are you…?” Kate trails off, staring at the TV set behind him. “Give me the remote, Castle, give it to me!” He proffers it weakly and she snatches it from his hand. 

“—again, for those of you just joining us. Bracken’s campaign manager, Griffith Morgan, has agreed to talk with us. Cindy?” 

“Thank you, Robin,” a blonde standing outside a room swarming with uniforms says. “I’m here with Griffith Morgan at the scene of the senator’s speech. Just minutes ago he was transported away via an ambulance to the hospital after being shot by an unknown gunman in the audience. Mr. Morgan, do you have any news for us on the Senator’s condition?” Kate stands stock still, as if frozen in ice. 

“He is at this point still alive and still in surgery at St. John’s Hospital. He is currently being treated by the best doctors in the state, and I know they will do everything humanly possible to preserve his life.” 

“Mr. Morgan, should Senator Bracken survive this ordeal, what does this mean for his possible re-election in 2012?” 

“Obviously at this point we are just hoping he survives. Whether he will choose to continue his campaign after his recovery only he can answer, but if he does I would ask the citizens of New York to stand by him against this attack on what he stands for, compromise, Constitutional rights, and lowered taxes for all.” 

“Mr. Morgan, are you saying that you believe this attack to be related to politics?” 

“I think that that is the NYPD’s call, not mine,” Morgan answers. “Excuse me, I have to—“ The screen returned to the anchor. 

“We’ll keep you informed on any new developments on this topic in the upcoming hour,” the anchor says, looking directly at the camera. “Stay tuned, New York.” The program lapsed into commercials. 

“Kate?” Castle asks.

“He’s been shot,” she breathes. “He’s been shot, and I was gone, and you…you believed I did this?” 

“No, Kate, that’s not what I meant—“ 

She mutes the TV, throwing the remote onto the couch with a vengeance. “Castle, how can you think I would do something like that? Maybe you don’t know me at all.” Balls of fire could accompany the words she’s spitting at him, but above her mouth her eyes are wide and scared and still very much in shock. 

“I’m sorry, Kate, but I don’t know you when it comes to your mom’s murder. That’s a part of you I can’t seem to touch,” he pleads honestly. “But I do know that if anything ever happened to you or Alexis or mother, you would be surprised by the side of me that emerges. It was all so sudden; I momentarily leapt to the worst possible conclusion. I’m sorry.” 

“No,” she shook her head, sighing and sinking into the couch. “No, that’s fair. I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s just…” She gestured to the TV set, the world in general. “We were going to contact Smith today, we were going to get evidence that he was behind it all, I promised my mother that we were so close to justice, and now…now the entire state is concerned over his health. His safety. Castle, does it make me a bad person if I’m hoping he dies during surgery? Does it?” 

“No, Kate, it makes you human,” he assures her, sitting down and taking her hands in his own. “And being human, as opposed to, you know, alien, is good.” She smiles in spite of herself and a warm glow kindles in his chest. 

“What do we do now?” she asks, looking him directly in the eyes. There are no traces of tears in hers, just confusion and uncertainty and a minuscule amount of triumph. 

“What we do best. Put killers behind bars. Or, if he dies, find the evidence necessary to besmirch his name and then toast to a job well done with Lanie and the boys.” He pauses. “Actually, on second thought, we can do the toast thing either way.” 

“Part of me wants him to die today just so it’s all finally over and he’s definitely paying his dues, but another part wants to see him rot in jail for the rest of his life,” she confesses. “For my mom I would choose jail, because she was a lawyer and it seems fitting and all that, but for me…I just want to know that he has his hands off the puppet strings once and for all, you know? Even jail isn’t inescapable…even if he’s convicted with three consecutive life sentences like he should be, he might have friends that can break him out, or…” 

“Or there’ll be some nice criminal acquaintances of ours in there that will beat him up once they learn he was the one responsible for you becoming a cop,” Castle points out, half-kidding. “We don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, Kate. But we’ll have a lot of people on our side. We’re not going to let him slip through the cracks. Not you, not me, not Gates or the boys or the mayor or even Agent Shaw should we call her up again. It’s going to be over soon—” The television caught his eye again and he unmuted it in time to hear the anchor’s update on the Bracken story. 

“Senator Bracken is currently out of surgery but according to the hospital in critical condition in the ICU. We have confirmed that he was shot twice in the stomach about a half an hour ago, and police are still searching for the elusive shooter.” 

“He survived the surgery,” Kate murmurs.

“Doesn’t mean he’ll survive the night,” Castle reminds her. 

“I did.” Her cell phone rings before he can respond and she answers it, putting it on speakerphone. “Espo, this isn’t really a good time right now. Besides, I’m not on duty until tomorrow.” 

“Beckett, you need to come to the precinct,” Esposito says. “But I’m—“ 

“Castle with you? Bring him too, and don’t tell anyone else where you’re going. Trust me, Kate; you’re going to want to be here.” 

“Okay, we’re coming. Be there in fifteen,” she ends the call. 

“What was that about?” Castle asks though he knows neither of them knows the answer. He clicks the TV off and follows her to the door, out of the apartment, and to the car. Kate’s stiff and white-knuckled as she drives to the precinct, but he knows better than to suggest he drive. And with the number of traffic violations he’s already committed today, it’s probably not the best of ideas either. 

Kate doesn’t bother to wait for the elevator and instead launches herself up the stairs, by the end effectively proving herself to be in much better shape than he is—she’s not even breathing rapidly when they arrive at Ryan and Esposito’s desks. They’re not there. 

“Beckett!” Ryan calls from behind them. His head is sticking out the doorway of a conference room. “In here.” 

“What’s going on?” Kate asks in lieu of a greeting. She stops in her tracks just past the threshold in surprise. “Evelyn, it’s…it’s nice to see you.” 

“You too, Kate,” the woman replies uncertainly. Castle repeats her greeting to Captain Montgomery’s wife. He hasn’t seen her since his funeral, where they first met. He wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t remember him, not from such a horrific event. Although maybe Montgomery had talked about Beckett’s nosy and obnoxious ride-along at home. Complained about, more like. 

“Beckett, thanks for coming,” Ryan says. “There’s been a lead. A big one. On your mother’s case.” 

“On my mom’s…” Kate repeats, staring at him. “What is it? Where did it come from?” 

“From me,” Evelyn speaks up. “Well, from Roy. I was cleaning out one of his old desk drawers today and I found an envelope addressed to you. But it was empty.” Kate frowns, confused. “Then at the bottom of the drawer there was this cassette tape I didn’t recognize. I had to dig out the player to play it, but when I did it wasn’t any of Roy’s old music. There was a man talking, and I knew I’d heard his voice before—today, on TV. The Senator who got shot, the one whose speeches Channel 2’s been playing for the last hour. Senator Bracken, I think.” 

“What did he say?” Kate demands. Esposito presses play on the cassette player on the table and a low scritching sound fills the room. Right when he begins to fear it’s blank there’s the sound of footsteps, a chair being pulled out, and then Bracken begins to speak. 

“Raglan, shut the door. You’ve got a lot of balls coming in here.” 

“I recognized his voice,” Evelyn murmurs. “That’s Bracken.” 

“Look, we just want to make sure we’re all on the same page,” says someone familiar. Castle’s heart clenches in his chest. 

“Montgomery,” Kate breathes. Ryan and Esposito shift uncomfortably on their feet, and Evelyn’s hands are clasped tightly together over her stomach. 

“You took us for a lot of money, Bracken,” Montgomery says. “We want assurances.”

“Hey, be happy I haven’t busted the three of you for your little mafia extortion ring,” Bracken growls.

“Whoa, relax,” Montgomery backs off a little. 

“No, no. You want assurances?” Bracken asks. Castle can’t imagine he could possibly sound any more evil. “Here you go. I assure you that as easily as I pinned Bob Armen’s murder on Pulgatti I can just as easily pin it on the cops that actually did the deed.” 

“Pulgatti knows he’s been framed,” Montgomery replies. “What if someone gets on to this?” 

“Then I’ll handle them.”

“You? How?” 

“I know people, Roy,” Bracken says. “Dangerous people. Anyone gets too close, like that bitch lawyer Johanna Beckett who’s been poking around, I’ll have them killed. I’ve had people killed before.” Kate’s white in the face when the tape clicks finished, but the look she gives him when he steps forward causes him to retreat to his former position. 

“I think he meant to give that to you someday,” Evelyn tells her softly. “I think that’s what was in the envelope, and it fell out when I pulled out the drawer.” 

“Thank you,” Kate says seriously, still dazed. “I know it can’t have been easy, Evelyn, to hear that about Montgomery…” 

“I think I’d known for a while now,” his wife admits. “His troubled past…he wasn’t proud of it. It’s what drove him to be the best cop, the best captain he could be. I know he meant to send this to you. Maybe there just wasn’t enough evidence at the time. This cassette…it’s not enough to stick, is it?” 

“No,” Esposito shakes his head. “Not with someone with as much pull as Bracken. We’ll have to find more somewhere. But it’s enough to reopen the investigation.” 

“It will be,” Kate says. “Castle and I know where we can find more. Now that we have this…” There is a knock on the door. 

Gates steps through. “All of my finest detectives holed up in one room, and Mr. Castle? What are you all up to? And Mrs. Montgomery, hello. I’m Victoria Gates.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Evelyn replies. 

“Nothing, sir,” Kate responds automatically to Gates’s question. 

“Well, there’s someone out here who wants to talk to you and Mr. Castle,” she informs them. 

“Okay,” Kate says. “Who?” 

“Didn’t give a name,” Gates answers. “He says he’ll talk only to you and Mr. Castle—said it was important for a cold case you were both working on. Detective Beckett, I wasn’t aware you had opened any cold cases?” 

“No, sir,” Kate avoids her captain’s eyes. “We’d better go see what that’s about, sir.” She goes out the door, motioning for Castle to follow her. Esposito and Ryan slip out not-so-covertly as well. 

A white-haired man in his his sixties is waiting by Beckett’s desk, wearing a casual brown suit. He, Castle notices, has creases above his eyes, as if used to frowning often. He holds out his hand as Kate approaches. “Detective Beckett, I’m Michael Smith.” Kate freezes with her hand still in his firm handshake. “I see Mr. Castle, my…correspondent…in all of this has told you about me. Good, that will make this easier.” He adjusts his jacket, smoothing down the front of it. “Hear me well, Detective. This was never supposed to happen. Bracken was supposed to stay away from you and focus on his ill-gotten political career, and you were supposed to stop investigating and let it rest. Circumstances, however, have allowed for a narrow window for another course of action.” He removes a manila envelope from the inside of his jacket, and Kate’s eyes fall to it. 

“Detective, the man who ordered the death of your mother was a man named—“ 

“Senator William Bracken,” Caste breaks in before he can stop himself. 

“How do you know that?” 

“His initials are in my mother’s notes,” Kate takes the reins again. “And we found a cassette tape where he admits to blackmail and murder, including my mother’s.” 

“You found the recording? Then this will be even easier than I thought. All of the pieces are coming together at just the right time,” Smith nods, satisfaction in his eyes. “But first, you need to know the full story. Years ago, organized crime owned the New York justice system, and the NYPD sometimes had to resort to vigilantism to keep everything under control. As part of this, a trio of cops formed a band that kidnapped mobsters for ransom: Raglan, McCallister, and Roy Montgomery, all of whom you’ve met so far. During that time, Assistant District Attorney William Bracken figured out their scheme and blackmailed his way in. It went on for a while, until one day they were attempting to kidnap a mobster names Joe Pulgatti, and a fellow mobster named Bob Armen appeared and went for Roy’s gun. It accidentally went off, killing Armen, who was actually an undercover FBI Special Agent. Raglan and McCallister framed Pulgatti for the murder, and he went to prison for life. From there, Pulgatti continued to maintain that he was innocent, although as a mobster no one believed him. No one until your mother came along, that is.

“Pulgatti realized that the only people who knew he was with Bob Armen when he died were the kidnappers themselves, and they must therefore be with the NYPD. Upon hearing this, your mother began investigating the case herself, but it attracted the attention of Bracken, who had financed his first Congressional campaign with the blackmail money and who stood to lose everything if she discovered the truth. He hired Dick Coonan to kill her, and Raglan, the investigating detective for her murder, covered up all of them on Bracken’s orders and to conceal his own role in Armen’s death. He passed the crimes off as random gang violence to close their cases and stop any further investigation. 

“Roy knew about all of this all along, of course. But he couldn’t bring your mother back or undo what he’d done, so he took you under his wing in the 12^th’s homicide division and reasoned that the best way to atone for his crimes was to be the great policeman he knew he could be, not fess up to his crimes. When you started being targeted after killing Dick Coonan, he made a deal with Bracken—his silence and a stop to the investigation for your safety. After Lockwood broke out of prison, he visited Roy and said that you’d broken the deal and would have to be taken out. As you know, Roy ambushed them instead, and before his death sent this package of evidence to me so that I could continue the deal for your protection. I only received them after you had been shot by Cole Maddox, another of Bracken’s men, however, and for that I am sorry.” 

“But why was he shot today?” Kate presses. 

“My intel says it was a power coup,” Smith answers. “By now the blackmail money has definitely run out, and he was forced to other sources of income to finance his political career. He made a deal with a vicious drug lord originally from Washington Heights named Vulcan Simmons, made him the head of a huge money laundering operation. Bracken made millions under the radar, enough to finance a political war chest that would allow him to be truly uncompromising on his way to the White House.” 

“White House,” Castle interrupts. “Isn’t he just a Senator?” 

“Bracken is power-hungry and insatiable,” Smith says. “After this Congressional term, he had plans to run for President of the United States. My best guess is that Vulcan Simmons became unhappy with the cut he was receiving from Bracken when he was the one sticking his neck out on it and performing all of the illegal operations, and arranged to have him killed in order to take it over. It remains to be seen whether he succeeded or not, but we should be thankful that he exists. He’s the reason I am here today, the reason for this opening. The men loyal to Bracken will be busy dealing with him, leaving us a small window in which to formulate a full case against him without them noticing. What’s in this envelope isn’t enough to convict someone with as many connections as Bracken, but now that you’ve found the recording…” He hands Kate the package and she holds it reverently for a moment before turning to Ryan and Esposito, who have been trying their best to look inconspicuous as they “work” at their desks. 

“You heard all that?” she asks. 

“Yes.” 

“Then go get the cassette.” She opens up the package and pulls out a stack of papers. “The two of you give it and this stack to Tory, tell her to copy it all, email it to all of us, and back it up on the securest servers she can find. I am not letting this evidence slip out of my grasp.” 

“You got it,” Esposito says.

She turns back to Mr. Smith. “Thank you for coming to me with this. I wish it hadn’t taken this long, but...” 

“It was necessary,” he says, a light reprimand. “Now, it’s time for me to disappear.” He begins to walk towards the elevator. 

“Wait,” Kate says, “what if we need you to testify?”

“Don’t,” Smith calls out from the elevator. The doors close, obscuring him from view. 

Kate stares after him a moment and then turns back to her desk, pulling the rest of the papers out of the file and setting them down. “Come on, Castle. Let’s get started.” 

Michael Smith enters his large residence with the gait of an old man. He has the mind of one, too, the mind of one who’s fulfilled his duty, finally, after years of waiting. He prepares himself dinner, turning on the TV as he cuts vegetables at the counter. It’s the news station, and he catches it just in time to hear the perky news anchor Robin say, “Next, the latest on Senator William Bracken’s condition and the new evidence that has some saying he got what he deserves, right after this.” He smiles to himself. He waits patiently for the commercial break to be over, turning on the stove for soup. Setting a pot of chicken broth on it, he finishes cutting the carrots and moves on to the celery. 

“The biggest story of today, the shooting of New York Senator William Bracken,” the anchor returns. “Mr. Morgan, his campaign manager, has released a statement saying that Senator Bracken is expected to live, although he will be confined to a wheelchair due to one of the bullets lodging itself in his lower spine. In the official statement to the press, Mr. Morgan stated, ‘This is a difficult time for us all. However, Mr. Bracken wants the public to know that though he will be paralyzed from the waist down, he by no means is giving up his ideals of free democracy and compromise in Washington. His family asks for your prayers and that you leave them alone in this time of healing.’ Now, some shocking allegations have come to light against the Senator—“ 

Michael Smith smiles again, switches off the TV, and hums a little tune to himself as his broth comes to a boil. 

Chapter Text

“Hey, pumpkin,” Castle says from a few feet away. Though it’s pretty loud with the bustle of people moving around them, she can still hear his voice. “Yeah, we’re still at the courthouse.” He pauses, listening. “Sure.” Castle pulls the phone away from his ear and offers to her. “Alexis.” 

She takes it uncertainly, bringing it up to her ear. “Hi, Alexis,” she says. 

“Hi, Kate,” the teen replies. “I just wanted to check in with you, with the trial today and all that.” 

“Well, it’s almost over,” Kate says bravely. “Jury’s out deliberating. But they seemed responsive when I gave my testimony, though, so…” 

“He’s not going to get off,” Alexis tells her. “Keep believing that. You’ve got a solid case. He’s going to prison for a very, very long time.” 

“Thanks, Alexis,” Kate smiles. “I’ll let you get back to your schoolwork now.” It occurs to her how much daughter is like father—kind, caring, sensitive, considerate. 

“Bye!” She hands the phone back to Castle, who’s watching her with a concerned expression on his face. It’s the same one he’s been wearing all day and last night too, and she knows that for once it’s not her he’s concerned for. This trial, Bracken’s trial, is the one they’ve all been waiting for for months, and it’s taken all too long to get here since that fateful day of finding that cassette tape. 

“Kate!” Lanie hurries toward her. “I lost you after my testimony. That was intense!” Kate nods in agreement. Both she and the ME have been in court numerous times, but this one was different. The stakes were higher. She has so much to lose. 

“You’re not worried the defense is going to win, are you?” Lanie asks, giving Kate a hard stare. “’Cause they’re not. Not a chest full of money, not a high-powered lawyer could get Bracken out of from under the load of bricks we’ve dumped on him. You got me?” 

“I’m not worried, Lanie,” Kate tells her truthfully. “Just waiting for it to be over. So we can go home.” She meets Castle’s eyes and he gives her a small smile. He’s so proud of her. “Lanie, have you seen my dad? He was here a minute ago, but now he’s gone.” 

“I think I saw him go into the bathroom,” Lanie tells her. “No, look, there he is with Javi and Ryan.” She points and Kate turns to see the three of them heading toward their little group. 

“Hey, Dad,” she embraces him. 

“You did good in there, Katie,” he says into her hair. 

They release, and she asks, “How’re you doing?” 

“Just fine, you don’t need to worry about me,” he looks straight in the eye. “You know what Johanna would say to us all right now? That Bracken’s done and dusted, thanks the efforts of you all. Really, thank you.” 

“You’re most welcome, man,” Espo tells him, and Ryan nods his agreement. 

“Hey, I think they’re calling us back in,” Lanie says. They fall silent and begin to troop back towards the courtroom doors. Lanie catches her arm before she can enter, holding her back a second. “Girl, I’m so damn proud of you.” 

“Thanks, Lanie,” Kate ducks her head. The two women follow the rest of their party inside to the first row of benches directly behind the prosecution and defense. They all sit down together unlike before, when most had to testify. But that part’s over now, and all that’s left is the verdict. 

Kate watches with breath she doesn’t know she’s holding as the jury walks back in, their faces stony blank. Some glance at her, recognizing her from the stand, but others pointedly avert their eyes. She can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. 

It’s Bracken that catches her attention as the judge starts speaking, calling the court to order. He’s just staring at her with a loathing she didn’t know possible, unblinking, a snake. Unspoken messages pass between them, each perfectly understanding each other. 

“Will the jury foreperson please stand?” the judge asks. The man does. “Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?” 

“They have, your honor.” The man hands the judge a piece of paper and the judge reads it silently. He hands it back with a rustle of his black robes, face impassive. The man looks down at it. “The jury finds the defendant guilty on all counts.” 

Kate smiles and Castle next to her squeezes her hand. Guilty. We did it, Mom, she thinks, lifting her gaze to the ceiling. 

“The jury is thanked and excused. Court is adjourned,” the judge announces. The prosecutor begins to pack up his bag and Bracken’s two defense lawyers, one male and one female, do the same. 

She chances a glance at him, and he’s still staring at her. Even as the guards come to unlock his cuffs from the table and take him away, he’s staring at her. They’re leading him out of the courtroom, and his neck is twisted around to continue to stare her down until the door shuts behind him. 

“It’s over,” Castle rejoices. “Thank God, it’s over.” They join the throng of people headed out the doors into the hallway, Esposito and Ryan clapping each other on the back before Lanie steals Espo away for a kiss. Her father catches up to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. His eyes are bright and glad, as if the whole world has opened up to them again. 

“You know what she would say now, Katie?” 

“What?” she asks, pushing Bracken out of her mind. “I told you so.” 

Outside in the bright sunlight, her father takes his leave of them, citing work as the reason. He gives her a quick peck on the cheek before he goes, and she turns it into a fierce hug. Once he’s gone, the rest of them, Gates having given them the day off and Lanie having gotten hers by getting Perlmutter to cover for her, stand there listlessly. Kate wonders if they are as lost as she is as to what to do now. 

“Let’s go to the Old Haunt,” Castle suggests suddenly. They all agree, piling into Esposito’s car. They’d been forced to take two cars here, but with just the five of them they all fit. Jim had driven himself and Kate to the courthouse this morning after a brief visit to the cemetery. Kate has a feeling that’s where he’s going now, before he returns to work for real. She’ll be there, later. When it sinks in. It hasn’t yet, not really. 

Castle’s bar is as homey as she remembers it being, with clean counters and orangey ambiance lighting. They sit in the booth he always has reserved for them and Kate buys the first round of drinks despite their protests, but it’s something she has to do. A thank-you, perhaps, for sticking with her through this, for all their help solving this case. Afternoon turns into evening and their conversation turns from trial stuff to precinct gossip to personal tales of embarrassment and woe. 

“Did I ever tell you about the time,” Lanie begins, nursing her second drink under the provisions of her two- drink limit, “that I caught Javi leaving for work in his pajama pants?” 

“You think that’s bad,” Castle tells her, mischief in his blue eyes, “a few weeks ago, this one—“ He nudges her with his elbow. “—almost left for work with coffee spilled all over her…” He gestures to his general chest area with his patented Castle smirk. 

“Really, Castle?” Kate rolls her eyes. “You’re putting me in Espo’s spotlight. So, Lanie, how far did he get before you caught him?” 

“No, no, I wanna hear more of that story,” Esposito protests, earning himself a smack in the arm. 

“All the way to his car,” Lanie answers with a smile. “…and halfway down the block. I saw his work pants lying there on the bed, so I called him. I was like, ‘Baby? Look down.’” The rest of the table busts out laughing, and Esposito excuses himself to get another drink. 

“Bet you’re glad Jenny’s not here to spill any of your embarrassing moments,” Kate tells Ryan. 

“Are you kidding? She wouldn’t do that to me,” Ryan scoffs. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty,” Esposito assures her as he reappears sporting another couple beers for the table. 

By nine o’clock, it appears they are all talked out, although occasionally one of them starts grinning madly as they recall one of the funny stories from earlier. An amicable silence has fallen over the table when Esposito suddenly raises his glass. “To Roy Montgomery,” Esposito says. “A hero in the end.” 

“Captain Montgomery,” the rest of them echo. 

An electronic buzzing sounds as the steel doors open to admit her. The walls are a whitish-gray, the ground tile with plenty of scuff marks. It reminds her of an insane asylum in its bareness and emptiness, and, in a way, it is. Most people have to have something majorly wrong in their mind to end up in here. This is where the worst of the worst are kept. 

“Ma’am, I’m going to need to check you for weapons and keep your purse until you’re finished,” a man on the other side says. He’s in uniform, a pale dark green one. His utility belt, she notices, has a baton and what she suspects is a taser holstered next to the gun. 

“Of course.” She spreads her arms and legs, allowing him to run the metal detector up and down her body. It’s good that he’s doing this; she’s glad. The more hoops she has to jump through to get in, the better. She hands over the purse and he presses the red button to cause the next door to lift into the ceiling. 

“First door on your left,” he says. 

“Thank you.” She walks with purpose towards that door, with purpose towards the ultimate goal of the last ten years of her life. The door handle under her palm is cool, and she twists it smoothly. Visiting him will not —does not—bother her. She will show him who is finally in control. She is finally in control. 

There’s only one chair at the bolted metal table, and it’s vacant. Waiting for her. She walks slowly inside with measured steps, slowly bringing her gaze to his upper body, his face. Bracken is dressed in an orange jumpsuit, hands shackled to the table. He’s seated in a wheelchair whose wheels she suspects to be put into some sort of locked position for the time being. He can’t move, and she can. He can’t leave, but she can. He’s the one who tried to have her killed, and she is the one still alive and whole. 

“Are you sorry you had her killed now?” she asks, as if genuinely curious. She keeps her tone light, as if she’s asking if the sun’s out or if the cupcake frosting is vanilla or chocolate. He doesn’t answer; she doesn’t expect him to. “It’s ruined your life, Bracken—I’ve ruined your life. But no one should have had to die. Are you sorry now?” The snake just stares at her, silent, but that’s okay. She smiles to show him that, taking her seat at the little metal table. “Ten years ago when I first became a cop I dreamed about sitting where I am now. I would have screamed at you for what you took from me, gloated in my victory. I would have asked you what I just did, and when you didn’t respond, I would have told you this.” She leans forward, getting close enough that she can hear his ragged breathing. “I will come back here every Sunday for the rest of your pathetic life and ask you that question until you say yes. Until you’re sorry that you destroyed my family.” 

She leans back again, dropping the growl and the deep voice and returning to her lighter, cheerier one. The one that she’s hoping is driving him crazy trying to figure out. “But I’m older now. I’m a successful homicide detective, I have good friends who care about me, and I’m in love with the most wonderful man in the world who also happens to love me back. I know now that you’ll never be sorry, Bracken—you’re not capable of it. You’re a monster, and it would be naïve of me to think anything else.” She stands, taking her time to push in her chair carefully, hear it clink against the table. “So, this is the last time you’ll ever see me. The last time you’ll see anyone besides the guards and your lawyer, really.” She smiles again. “Have a nice presidential campaign, Bracken. Best of luck at the polls.”

Chapter Text

It’s March 9, 2053. Their anniversary, which Castle never forgets. 

No matter how much time has passed. 

They’re sitting on the couch together, her legs curled into his lap and her head resting on his shoulder. So much time has gone by, and yet…they’re still here. Still together. Still in love. He really was the one-and- done that she swore by all those years ago, and she really was the love of his life. 

The mantle and the rest of the room are full of pictures of their time both together and apart over the years: one of a young Castle with Martha standing proudly at his shoulder holding his first ever book, In a Hail of Bullets; she and her mom and dad with windswept hair and kites in their hands; Alexis as a baby swaddled in an adorable pink blanket with a bear hoodie; Kate and Lanie outside the library of NYU; Castle and Alexis as a tween playing laser tag; Kate, Castle, Ryan, Esposito, and Montgomery in a commemorative photo that Castle somehow talked his way into early on in his ride-along, standing next to her with his hand barely touching her waist; their first date; them at the wedding with Martha and Jim at either side, both beaming; Kate holding baby Sienna; Castle tickling the tiny toes of Dylan; Alexis’s college graduation photo with Ashley; Sienna and Dylan and their dates to prom; and finally a group family photo at Alexis’s wedding, she and her new husband in the middle, Kate, Castle, Sienna, and Dylan on either side. On the table are the final two wedding photos, Sienna’s on the left and Dylan’s on the right. It’s hard to believe that Dylan has a ten- year-old son and a seven-year-old daughter now, and that Sienna’s daughters are already navigating the murky waters of high school. 

They’re all so beautiful; her heart nearly bursts at the thought of it. She finally understands why she was brought back to life forty-two years ago. It was so she could experience all this, all these tiny moments in time that make life worth living. And worth coming back to. If only she could go back and visit that frightened homicide detective lying in a hospital bed with a hole in her chest and tell her about all the things she had to look forward to. 

“What are you thinking about?” Castle asks, planting a kiss on the top of her head. She turns to look at him, smiling. His face has more wrinkles now, but his eyes are as bright and warm and loving as ever. His hair has gone gray, but he’s as handsome to her as when she first met the millionaire playboy side of him. 

“Just us,” she replies. “What we’ve accomplished over our forty-five years.” 

Castle’s forehead creases ever so slightly. “You do know it’s our fortieth anniversary, right? The doctors said my mind would go before yours, but…” 

She laughs, placing her hand over his heart. “I’m talking about since the day I walked into that book launching party and arrested you.” 

“Yes, you did pique my curiosity quite a lot, Detective Beckett.” 

“That’s Captain Beckett, to you, Mr. Castle.” 

“Ah, well, former Captain Beckett. We solved a lot of crimes together, you and I, in our day.” 

“That we did,” Kate agrees. “Still, my favorite part was always being Detective, not Captain.” 

“With me pulling your pigtails,” he adds. 

“Yes, that too.” They’re silent for a minute, just enjoying each other’s company. 

Then he says in a strange imitation of his former voice, “Tell me something, you ever have any fun? You know, let your hair down, drop your top, little ‘Cops Gone Wild’?” 

Kate smiles. “You do know I’m wearing a gun?” They share a laugh together, reminiscing on old times. After recounting stories to each other—working with Agent Shaw, having Natalie Rhodes running around the precinct, Castle shedding tears at the presentation of his very own bottle of Prohibition-era scotch—Castle asks, “You ever regret the time we wasted?” 

“Wasted?” 

“Those three years after I met you. Me being an ass, you hating me, my going to the Hamptons with Gina, you and the other people you were seeing...” 

“No, never,” Kate shakes her head. “We weren’t ready then. Not you, not me. And now we’ve had more than forty wonderful years, Castle. Why, do you?” 

“Not a bit,” he says. “We’ve got spectacular children and beautiful grandchildren. I’ve gotten everything I ever truly wanted.” 

“Good,” Kate murmurs, placing her head on his shoulder again, “me too.” 

“Do you remember that couple, Vera and Joe Maddox from that case we worked with the Blue Butterfly necklace from the ‘40s?” 

Kate smiles. “Of course I remember them; they were so sweet.” 

“During that last interview with them, when they were telling us their story, I remember wondering if I’d ever have that. The way they gazed at each other, held to each other—it was clear they were each other’s everything. I remember watching them thinking that someday I wanted that and hoping it would be you.” 

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Castle tilts her head to kiss her. “We were great together, you know.” 

“We still are.” 

“Always,” they whisper together. Because it’s true. And when the time comes, they’ll be ready for it. They’ve lived good, fulfilling lives, and while they may not want to leave this world, they will go knowing they’ve left an imprint on their children, their children’s children, and all the families they’ve brought justice to. Bracken, too. Left a pretty large imprint on him and his memory as well. 

Kate lays her head on his shoulder. He loves her, and she loves him. That’s all they could really ask for. All this is just so much more. And they’re grateful every day. 

Chapter Text

“Matt, have you seen my briefcase with the case files in it?” 

“I think it’s by the couch!” her husband calls from another corner of the house. After a few moments he appears, dark hair half-combed. “Why, are we stopping by your office on the way?” 

“Yeah, I just need to drop off some files for Dean,” Sienna replies. “His witness’s deposition is tomorrow, so...” Matt nods and disappears back into their room while Sienna locates her briefcase, which is indeed next to the couch. She loads it into the trunk of the car, dusting her hands off before heading back into the house. “Charlotte! Johanna!” she calls up the stairs. “Time to go!” 

“Coming, Mom,” one of them responds. “Jo’s just taking forever in the bathroom again.” 

“Am not!” Johanna replies indignantly, and the sound of a small scuffle drifts down the stairs. Myka, their fluffy golden retriever, appears at the top of them and pads downward with her teenage daughters in tow. Johanna’s carrying a large stack of textbooks, which Sienna raises an eyebrow at. 

“Finals are in two weeks,” Johanna tells her. 

“Fine, but put them away when everyone else arrives,” Sienna instructs. “Charlotte, leash up Myka and get her in the car. Your father and I will be there in a minute. And put on a jacket, it’s January!” 

“’Kay,” her youngest daughter agrees amicably. Sienna turns to see Matt emerging from their bedroom. After one last check-over of the house to see if they’ve forgotten anything—it won’t be a true trip into the city if they haven’t—she grabs the apple crisp from the kitchen and heads out with it, while Matt locks the door behind them. 

The car ride into the city isn’t that long, and for once it’s relatively quiet in the car. Johanna has her Econ book opened on her lap and Charlotte’s intent on her phone while a quiet deluge of pop songs drifts over the radio. Sienna pets Myka’s head absentmindedly as the dog puts her nose on the center console, keeping her from disturbing Matt while he’s driving. 

About an hour and a stop at the firm later they pull into a parking space near Dylan’s apartment and Matt hands her the keys. “Everybody out,” he says. Myka hops out first, eagerly sniffing about at the unfamiliar smells of the city and dragging Charlotte out with her. Johanna emerges third, hefting her books in one arm while attempting to close the car door with the other. 

Sienna leads the way up to her brother’s apartment carrying the apple crisp and knocks on the door. Dylan opens it moments later and invites them all in with a gentle smile, and Sienna can hear the delighted shrieks of his kids in the background. In the kitchen Dylan’s wife Katrina takes the crisp out of her hands and greets her with a hug. After they close the door Charlotte lets Myka off the leash, causing Oliver the white house-cat to hiss and streak off for the bedroom. 

“Ready to go?” Sienna asks Dylan. He nods, grabbing his coat. “Is Alexis coming this time?” 

“Don’t think so,” he replies, bidding goodbye to Katrina. She gives Matt a quick kiss before she leaves, jingling the keys as they head for her car. 

“Another year gone,” Sienna comments as she starts the car. 

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Dylan agrees. “I remember being Caleb’s age playing laser tag with Dad at the loft. That couldn’t have been thirty years ago, could it?” 

“And I remember Mom not letting me read the first Nikki Heat book until I was sixteen. Said it was ‘inappropriate.’” 

“It was inappropriate!” Dylan exclaims. “Will page 105 ever not be gross?” 

“Probably not. I caught Johanna reading Derrick Storm the other day when she was supposed to be doing her homework.” 

“At least she does her homework. Caleb? Katrina and I have to look in his room every five minutes to check that he’s actually in there. We keep threatening to borrow some police cuffs and handcuff him to his desk until he’s done his math, but he’s smart enough to know they’re all retired.” 

“He might be a future Richard Rodgers in school then, better warn his teachers now,” Sienna laughs. 

“Nah, we told him if he ever gets kicked out of school the next one we’re sending him to is a military bootcamp.” 

“Didn’t go for that?” 

“Nope,” Dylan grins. 

“Here we are,” Sienna says as she parks the car. They both get out, zipping up their jackets because it really is quite chilly. They head in through the high arch on a small paved footpath weaving through the tombstones of the cemetery. As they round the curve, they can see two other figures standing on the soft green grass. “How long have we been coming here?” she asks in a low voice. 

“I think the first time they took you was when you were nine,” Dylan says. “For the ritual, I mean. Obviously you’d visited before.” 

“Mmm,” Sienna acknowledges, lifting a hand in greeting to her parents. Her mother smiles as they approach, embracing first her daughter and then her son. 

“Thanks for coming,” she tells both of them. 

“Of course, Mom,” Sienna says. It’s a ritual they’ve kept for a long time. Sometimes Sienna missed it, sometimes Dylan, but too much time would never go by before they found themselves at the cemetery on January 9th again. On occasion Alexis would join them as well, but far less frequently. This was something mostly shared by the four of them. 

All bundled up, they take their seats on the frigid grass in a semicircle around the two tombstones. As always, they let their mom start. “Hi, Mom, hi Dad. It’s me, Katie.” 

“And Rick,” Castle adds. 

“And Sienna.” 

“And Dylan,” her brother finishes. It’s a fun remnant from when they were kids and did this, and it’s just stuck all these years. 

“We miss you,” Kate begins. “Rick and I just got back from a trip to the Caribbean. Mom, you would have loved it there—beaches and palm trees everywhere you looked. Besides that, everything’s good for me. Nothing special to report.” She nods for Sienna to go. 

“Hi Grandma, Grandpa,” she says. “I’m doing well, and so is Matt. I’m still working at Morgan & Tuft, still doing environmental law. Johanna’s a senior this year, and I swear she jumps straight up in the air every time the mail comes. College acceptance letters and all that.” She pauses. They’ve been doing this since they were kids; talking to the open air doesn’t feel odd in the slightest. “Also, I think there may be a guy at school she’s hoping will ask her to senior prom in a couple months, because she’s started taking a real interest in her appearance. She takes almost an hour in the bathroom getting ready for school in the morning and it’s driving Charlotte up a wall having such a bathroom hog in the house. I don’t know where that comes from; I was never as bad as that.” Kate makes a small snorting noise which she quickly covers with a cough as Sienna turns her indignant blue-eyed gaze on her. “Charlotte’s a sophomore now, and school’s finally catching up to her. The bookworm might have have met her match with the English assignments this year. And it looks like the boy-band days might finally be over, thank God.” She looks to Dylan, who pats the grass with his hand before beginning to speak. 

“Katrina and I are doing fine as well. She just started a new job at Stuyvesant this fall teaching Russian and freshman English. I’m still at Microsoft developing software. Let’s see… Caleb’s in fifth grade now. Almost starting middle school, which we’re not all that psyched for. He’s finally let go of the dream of being Jedi when he grows up and has now decided he wants to be an astronaut.” Across from her, Castle is grinning like crazy. “He’s still really into his Little League baseball though. And he’s actually getting pretty good. How many runs did he get last game, two?” 

“Three,” Castle says. 

“Three,” Dylan nods. “And Anna’s in second grade now. They did this creative writing unit in school and she’s always bringing home these little stories for us to read. Oh, and if you thought the Star Wars Legos had gone by the wayside with Caleb’s move away from it, no, they’ve just migrated to Anna’s room now. She’s already added and set up the bajillion sets she got for Christmas and now positioned on her desk are entire armies of droids and clone troopers. But at least with her we’re not stepping on them on the floor all the time; she seems to like setting up elaborate battle scenes.” Sienna laughs inwardly and makes a mental note to check out Anna’s room later. Dylan gestures to Castle. “Your turn, Dad.” 

“Hey Jim, hey Johanna,” Castle says. “Alexis says hi too; she couldn’t be here today because she and Ashley couldn’t get plane tickets until last minute. They’re doing well—Ashley’s still a professor at the university and Alexis’s nonprofit is hosting benefits all over the world now. Adrian just joined Abigail in the sphere of the engaged, so it looks like there’ll be two weddings to go to in the next year or so. As for me, I’m doing just fine. Still very much in love with your daughter.” Kate smiles at him. “Next week I’m taking Caleb out for his first golfing lesson, so that should be interesting. But yeah, I think that’s it.” 

Her mother nods, glancing at Sienna and Dylan. “Bye Grandma, bye Grandpa,” Dylan says. “We’ll bring the kids to see you sometime soon.” Sienna repeats his farewell. 

“We’ll join you at the apartment in a few minutes,” Kate promises. Sienna nods and Dylan lays his hand on top of Kate’s for a moment before they stand up to leave. They head back to the car together, respectfully waiting until they’re out of earshot before beginning to talk again. At this point in their cemetery visit when they were kids, Castle used to take them back to the car to give Kate some time alone with her mom. Now that they’re grown, their dad stays with her for the ending bit. Sienna doesn’t know what she says, but she imagines it’s not all the happy, cheerful stuff they tell in their yearly report. 

They would visit Martha as well while they’re here, but she’s buried in a different cemetery, the first in the Castle mausoleum. Besides, from the extravagant productions Martha liked to put on for her when she was a child, Sienna knows her grandmother would rather have her visit her famous eponymous acting school to remember her life than any cold crypt. As for her paternal grandfather, well, had her mom not sworn to it, she would never have believed her father’s fantastic claim that he was a CIA spy. But if it was true—and there was still a little nagging doubt to her that it wasn’t; what were the odds of having an elite spy, a Broadway actress, a best-selling author, a precinct captain, and the organizer of a huge nonprofit all in the same family? —he could be buried anywhere, perhaps not even in a cemetery at all. Jackson Hunt’s final resting place would remain a mystery, much like the rest of him. The last time they had seen him was at their wedding, and that had been a huge shock all on its own. 

Maybe that’s what her parents talk about to Grandma Johanna and Grandpa Jim when they’re gone. The past, their fears. Even in their childhood there were unspoken rules about certain things that would not be talked about in their house, things that she understands now were too traumatic to relive in front of young eyes. Sienna understands that her parents haven’t always had the easiest lives. Things like Alexis’s kidnapping to Paris, back when Sienna was one. Like William Bracken before he’d died in prison. 

A few things have made it off that list over the years, though. Events that make interesting stories or teach a life lesson. The time when Kate was pregnant with her and had accidentally stepped on the trigger plate for a bomb while on a case, which finally caused her to tell her captain about her pregnancy. The time when they’d met with Agent Jordan Shaw to get her opinion after Kate had been offered a job in D.C. as a federal agent, only to get caught up in her investigation and Castle get deathly poisoned by an unknown toxin. The time when Kate was forced to jump off a boat into the ocean just before it exploded with Sienna strapped to her front and survive there for an hour before Castle and the rescue crews found her. The time a creepy stalker fan of Castle’s had threatened to kidnap Dylan if he didn’t meet him somewhere and acknowledge his “loyalty.” 

Yes, for the first couple years of her life she had had an interesting childhood. Too bad she doesn’t remember it. Or, perhaps, it’s a good thing. Now what she remembers are laser tag and board game tournaments and lazy Saturday mornings and smiley face pancakes and kite flying and ice cream and book dedications. 

Sienna and Dylan are quiet on the way back to his place, each lost in their own thoughts. Upon arriving, he lets them in and suddenly they are surrounded by chatterbox children, the ferociously wagging tail of Myka, and the scents of lasagna and fresh breadsticks wafting in from the kitchen. 

“Down, Myka,” Sienna tells dog. “Yes, I’m back, I know.” She ruffles her ears before moving further into the living room, Myka padding along behind her. Johanna dutifully puts away her textbooks upon sight of her mother. 

Before she can greet anyone else the doorbell rings again, and Myka’s trotting toward it expectantly. It’s too quick to be Mom and Dad, she thinks. Sienna opens it to find Alexis on the other side, her husband Ashley a few steps behind her. 

“Hey, it’s great to see you!” Sienna greets her sister and brother-in-law. “Come on in, sit down. You must have made good time from JFK? We didn’t expect you so early!” 

“There was absolutely no traffic on the roads; it was amazing,” Alexis explains. “And we hit every green light. Our taxi driver said he sees something like that once in a blue moon.” 

“It was pretty extraordinary,” Ashley agrees. 

“Can I help you with anything?” Sienna asks Katrina, who’s come to say hello to the new arrivals. Ashley hangs their coats up on the rack. 

“No, thank you, everything’s nearly ready to go,” Katrina replies. “Just about ten minutes more, twenty at the most.” 

Nodding, Sienna takes a seat on the couch next to Dylan and Alexis. Anna comes running up, skidding to a halt in front of them with brother in tow. “Tell me the story of Grandpa and Grandma!” the dark-haired girl says, seating herself on the floor in front of her father and her aunts. Sienna looks to Alexis as the others slowly gather. Her own girls, Johanna and Charlotte, join Anna and watch the adults expectantly. 

“Don’t you want Grandma and Grandpa to tell it to you?” Sienna asks her niece. “They’ll be here in just a little while.” 

“No, now!” Anna demands. She makes a face. “Plllleeeaaaasssse?” 

“You want to take this one?” Sienna asks Alexis. 

“Nope, “ Alexis replies. “I’ve told it more times than I can count. It’s your turn.” 

“Okay,” Sienna says. “Well, there was this one time when Grandpa tried to save your Grandma’s life.” 

“Wait,” Dylan interrupts, giving her an incredulous look. “What are you doing? You can’t start there.” Alexis’s two adult children, Abigail and Adrian, are nodding in agreement. 

“Where do you want me to start? Their first kiss, that time when they were undercover trying to save Uncle Kevin and Uncle Javi?” Sienna asks. 

“No, no, no,” Dylan shakes his head, exasperated. “You have to start from the beginning, when they met!” 

“Yeah!” his son Caleb, ten, vocally agrees. “Auntie Sienna, you’re telling it all wrong!” He says it with such great despair that Dylan can’t help but smile. Anna is the youngest and the drama queen, but her brother has his moments as well. 

“But the story’ll be so long!” Sienna points out. “A ton of stuff happened between then and their getting together! It’ll take hours to tell. You could make an entire TV show out of it with all the hemming and hawing they did!” 

“That’s where great love stories are supposed to start, from the beginning,” Dylan admonishes and his son nods solemnly in agreement. “Come on, listen closely, Anna. You’ll have to tell this story to your children someday and maybe you’ll have to prevent your cousins from ruining it by jumping in in the middle as well if they’ve been hearing Auntie Sienna’s version all their lives.” He gives Sienna a pointed, yet utterly brotherly, look. “It all started at Grandpa’s book release party. He’d just killed off his bestselling character, and he was looking for something new…” 

Chapter Text

Immature 

“Those carriers are pretty heavy,” Kate comments off-handedly.

“Yeah, they—how would you know? Did you used to babysit as a teenager or something?” 

“Nah. Took a class called Developmental Psychology of Children in high school. They made us carry around with us these plastic babies that cried and everything. Sort of a warning to discourage teenage pregnancy.” 

Castle snorts. “Did you like the class?” 

Kate laughs. “No, after two days of waking up at all hours of the night and lugging it around everywhere I figured out how to take the batteries out.” She grins evilly. “That shut it up.” 

Castle’s eyes are bugging out of his head. “Promise you’ll be more patient with our baby.” 

“Of course, Castle. It’ll be ours. I was a lot younger back then, and a lot more immature.” “I can’t imagine you as immature.”

“You have no idea.” 

Alternate Snippet for Ch39 - Drawing on Her 

“Anyways,” Kate says, cutting it off before the friendly argument can escalate, “I want to make sure I’ll be able to pass when I take them and do my job after that. So I want one of you to practice drawing on me.” 

Their slightly intoxicated states do nothing to stop the silent stares she gets at that. 

“You mean, like, with crayons, right?” Ryan asks. “Like, if you can face a room full of kindergarteners armed with coloring utensils you can pass your psych eval?” 

Lanie’s Advice 

“You made her take her meds, forced her not to overdo it, and none of us know how the hell you got her to see a freaking psychologist…” Lanie shakes her head in what he thinks is admiration. “Castle, getting that girl to share her feelings is like pulling teeth, even for me. You need to yank a little bit harder. Try it tonight—ask her about something personal. Watch for the signs that you’re overdoing it, but I don’t think you will. She trusts you enough to answer pretty much anything if you give her enough time. And if not, I’ve learned that you can learn just as much when she says nothing at all.” 

Alternate Ending for Ch45 - Signed Your Chest 

Castle sits bolt upright in bed. “I’ve signed your chest?”

Kate twirls a piece of hair over her mouth, eyes dancing mischievously. “Yeah.” 

“There has got to be a story behind that.” He’s up, alert. She hasn’t seen him this excited in ages. Even so, she hesitates, good mood evaporating away again. 

“Well, it was about a year after my mom died.” She frowns, pursing her lips slightly. “Oh, Kate, you don’t have to tell me if...” 

She ignores him and continues. “I was still really upset about it, so my friend Carmen suggested we do something fun. Her dad was in the publishing business and he got us tickets to the book release party for Gathering Storm. We got all dressed up, and it was…really fun.” She smiles, though the pain in her heart is deepening. 

“Then why do I feel like this story doesn’t have a happy ending?” 

She takes a deep breath. “It was fun. You were great; it was a great party. But when I got home…” She chokes on her own words, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. “It was the first time I’d seen my father passed out drunk at the kitchen table. He’d had a bit of an overuse before that, but he said he was going to take care of it, and…” Castle’s placed his hand comfortingly on her arm, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. For a moment she had feared she wouldn’t be able to instill as much meaning as that event had to her into her narrative, but now it’s clear he appreciates exactly how hard this was for her to see. “That was the first promise he ever broke to me.” 

Biological Tick, Tick, Tick 

“It’s just…Castle, I’m thirty-two. I’m getting close to that point where from a health standpoint, it’s scary. And I never wanted just one. I worry that I might be too old by the time for the second one, that there might be complications.”