A/N: There are no shortage of opinions among Castle fans regarding how the series ended. But as Richard Castle said, "the story is the story." This will be my take on what happened in the seven years between Caleb Brown's visit to the loft and the very end of the finale. These are not my characters, and this is solely my interpretation as to what happened. I think there are stories to be told about this, but they must remain true to what we have, so no AU from me. Please take a look and comment. I'd love to share what I think happened. Welcome to Castle, Resurgence

Chapter 1

There is a misconception among people, those that read books or watch movies and television shows, that when a gun is equipped with a "silencer", there is no sound. The inherent physics of firing a weapon belies the truth behind the notion that a silencer truly eliminates the loud explosive echo that the chemical reaction that propels a bullet at hundreds of feet per second. In reality, a suppressor changes the sound of a firing gun. It muffles the report, allowing anyone nearby to hear the click of the hammer on the cartridge, and the metallic snap of the slide shuttling backward and pulling another round into the chamber. It's different, but hardly silent.

As a widely read and studied mystery writer, Richard Castle knew full well these facts. His brain was wired to question his environment, analyzing nuances of action and reaction, seeing and applying facts to deductive reasoning in his drive for authenticity in his writing and furthering his connection to the reader. So in the millisecond before the impact of the shot from Caleb Brown, Castle's mind was fixated on the sound, the clicking made by the firing pin hitting bullet, trying to catalog in his memory, in a uniquely disassociated way right up to the point he felt the shock and pain of the bullet.

Castle hit the floor hard, his back slamming to the hard wood as the momentum of the shot carried him down further into the kitchen. The first emotion to hit him was shock, surprise, the impact felt so unreal. He'd been shot before, by a deranged fan who'd accidently discharged a gun during a hostage standoff at a dentist's office. That had hurt, but his bullet resistant vest had stopped the round and the end result was that he'd simply had the wind knocked from his chest. This was different. There was no hard polymer to stop the bullet, so it had carried into his chest, into his body and immediately sent him into a mélange of pain and agony. Still, in the back of his mind, he was processing, figuring out what was going on. He'd latched on to the beginnings of clarity. Why had Mason needed to burn Caleb Brown's body in a car if he'd had access to a secret incinerator? Very often, these musings had led to answers. This time, the answer was almost instantaneous, in the form of a gunshot to the chest. He looked up and saw the face of his assailant. Caleb Brown was alive. Castle's mind raced. He had to buy time. He had save Kate.

"Caleb, you don't need to do this…" He didn't mean it to sound as pleading as it did. The expanding flow of numbness and pain was radiating through his chest and down his spine. He could feel his life ebbing away. He had to buy Kate time; time to act, time to get away. Caleb's sneer made Castle's heart sink.

"Sorry, Rick. I can't have you and missus following me around to the ends of the earth." Caleb raised the gun and aimed at Castle's head. Castle felt despair, not because he would die, but of what he would miss. He and Kate had finally closed all the loose ends. They were free, they could now pursue their life together. Well, they'd closed all the loose ends save one: Caleb Brown. Now, Castle knew, he would die.

"Castle!" How many times over the past eight years had he heard that voice say his name? The inflections would change, based on her mood or the circumstance, but the surge of electricity that coursed through his heart when he heard her say his name never changed. It was the same even now, as the first time they'd met. His despair turned to hope. Again, Richard Castle wasn't thinking that he'd live. The pain, the shock were permeating him, but the resolution in Katherine Beckett's voice, saying his name, told him that she'd live. She was acting. She was being her same, assertive self.

The shots rang out in the loft. The soft clicking of Caleb's weapon intermingled with the loud, confident reports of Kate's service weapon. Castle heard, but did not see Caleb fall to the floor, and the confidence in his chest surged, despite the pain. Then, he heard a sickening noise, the sound of gun hitting the wooden floor nearby. He turned his head in time to see his wife, the love of his life, the most extraordinary woman he'd ever encountered, falling to the floor, with an ugly blot of red expanding on her white shirt. She'd been hit.

Any thought of his pain left his mind. He had to get to her. He willed his body to move, shock fighting him the entire way. He dragged himself, hand over hand, his eyes locked on hers as she made her way to him. His mind raced. Nothing mattered but to get to her. She was his reason for being, his life made new, and his redemption. He crawled towards her, fighting with every ounce of strength he had. He felt it waning; he felt his life slowly ebbing away as he stretched the last few paces to her. He felt her place her hand in his own. He marveled, even at this moment, how she could such a warm and delicate touch while being such a strong and resilient person. He felt the smile form on his lips.

Castle knew he was going to die. Remarkably, his death didn't make him afraid. His thoughts were of her, of Kate. Was she going to be all right? He couldn't see her, just glimpses of her hair in his peripheral vision. He didn't know how badly she'd been hurt. He concentrated all of his essence, all of his love in her direction. She had to make it. He hoped his warning had been enough. The edges of his vision began to blur, then fade.

He felt the darkness closing in and he closed his hand tighter on Kate's. His mind flashed visions of them and their time together in a rapid, picture show fashion. She was his life. As his sight grew darker, he fought as hard as he could, finally focusing on one image, one picture. Hers. He let out a brief sigh, and the darkness became complete, with one thought, one word on his mind.

"Kate."

One of the things that made Richard Castle a bestselling, world renowned author was his attention to the small details in his books. He had a knack for research and embedding his material with authentic slices of really useless information. He was the absolute worst person to play in Trivial Pursuit, as his brain was inundated with a prodigious amount of useless knowledge. There was one time, when researching a Derek Storm novel, he'd spent a couple of weeks with a sleep specialist in order to get background on what sleepers were aware of in the outside world while they slept. Remarkably, he'd been fascinated at how much the external environment, things like sounds and smells, tend to permeate one's dreams, while not necessarily making the dreamer aware of it happening.

Case in point for Castle, he knew he had to be in bright room because there was an overabundance of light in his dream. He was standing, alone in an empty white room, walking the perimeter of the walls, trying to find some sign of a way out.

"Is this heaven?" He thought to himself. "Nah, can't be. Why would I be in heaven? It's not like I'm dead." Suddenly, as was the tendency with memory, especially traumatic ones, the details of his and Kate's shooting flooded him, washing him a wave of pain and horror. He gasped. Was he dead?

He looked around. The room he was in was too sparse. While bright, there was no omnipresent white light. He resolved himself to the notion that it wasn't heaven, consequently he wasn't dead. So where was he?

For a moment, the same old Castle appeared in this dream room. "Maybe I've finally been abducted by aliens?" He smiled at the thought, at the possible validation of one of his pet conspiracy theories. Then he shuddered. "I really don't need any 'probes'."

He glanced around the room and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and listened. "I'm asleep." He concluded. He let out a sigh of relief. He remembered times when he remembered dreams, remembered how ever so slowly, the outside world would slowly bring him back to awareness, and then he'd wake up. For some reason, he really wanted to wake up. The flood of memories passing through his brain were disturbing. LokSat, Flynn, Mason, Kate being shot. He needed to be awake, and be in the real world, if only to get away from the havoc the memories were wreaking on his mind. The interview with the sleep specialist came back to him.

"The key is to focus on anomalies to your surroundings. Fixate on sounds or odors or sights that just don't fit the dream." Castle smiled. He'd had Derek Storm pull himself out of a somnolent state by registering the steady ticks of a timer on a bomb in order to save himself. While obviously fantastic, he really didn't have anything else to do, but try.

Again, he closed his eyes, breathing steadily, using his senses. Then he heard it, a sound. It was faint, but steady.

"Beep. Beep. Beep…"

What was that? He concentrated. Immediately, Derek Storm came to mind. It was a bomb timer. No, that wasn't it.

"Beep. Beep. Beep…"

The frequency was increasing a bit. Maybe it was an alarm clock, going off? He frowned. Well that was a problem. In his daily routine, he'd managed to train himself to ignore the incessant bleating of an alarm clock in order to get a few more minutes of sleep. He was the king of procrastination, as Kate once reminded him. No, that wasn't quite right. The tone was more soothing, more reassuring, as if it indicated something positive. It was regular, like a metronome, or rather, like the beating of a heart.

"Beep. Beep. Beep…"

That was it. In his mind's eye, he gave a little fist pump. It was a heart monitor, like those found on patients in a hospital room. Then it hit him. That was it. Those were his heartbeats. Which could only mean, he was alive. The clarity hit him like a flash. Everything became dark, the white room gone. But it wasn't the permanent darkness of sleep or death. It was the physical darkness of having his eyes closed. His other senses took hold. The number of smells and sounds multiplied. He knew he was awake. All he need do now, was open his eyes.

So, he did.

He willed his eyelids to open. Things were hazy, so he shut his eyes again, and then opened them slowly. The room came into focus. He was lying in a bed. It was a hospital room. He felt constrained, immobile. He tried to turn his head to the side to get a broader view of things, but he really couldn't move. His throat was dry, and his breathing regular, the intubation tube in his throat forcing air into his lungs, but keeping him from moving completely. He moved his eyes back and forth, only able to really see the plain ceiling tiles of the roof above. Maybe he could move his hands, take this tube out. He tried to move his arm, but all that happened was a slight tremor in his hand, his fingers opening and closing ever so slightly. There was rustle of movement that he caught in his peripheral vision. Someone was in the room with him. He caught a glimpse auburn hair crowned in the aura of lingering sunlight flooding the room through the window and smiled.

"Dad." She came into his line of sight, a look of infinite worry and overwhelming relief. Alexis' eyes were wet with tears, but her smile was steady and strong. She touched his cheek and turned towards the back of the room.

"I need some help in here. He's awake!" She turned towards him and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead. "Hang in there, Dad, we'll get someone in here to get that off of you." She turned to the door again to make sure she'd been heard, then returned her gaze to him. "It's good to have you back, Dad. I love you."

Castle tried to smile, but the sensation of relief had turned to exhaustion. As he waited, he felt himself drifting off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Kate.

The peace of his slumber was rattled. He was alive, but where was Kate? He'd seen Alexis, but no Kate. Where was his wife? Was she alive? The questions came at a rapid pace. How had he gotten here? How had they'd missed Caleb Brown being alive?

The questions made his mind cast off any vestige of rest or sleep. His eyes opened and he felt a momentary panic as a pair of hands held his head and he felt the pressure of the intubation tube being pulled from his throat. When it cleared his mouth, he gulped in a lungful of air.

"Easy, Mr. Castle. Just take your time, you need to adjust." A doctor in a white lab coat, looking no older than Alexis was holding his wrist and timing his pulse with stop watch.

Alexis was at Castle's side, holding his free hand. "Just relax, Dad."

He turned to face his daughter. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry, and he couldn't seem to product a sound when he breathed out through his vocal chords. He swallowed and then tried harder. Alexis looked at him anxiously, not from any fear that he wasn't getting better, but more, it seemed to Castle, that she dreaded the question she knew he was going to ask. Castle loved his daughter, but he had to know. He had to ask. He grit his teeth, and focused every ounce of strength he possessed, and finally, in a raspy, unsteady, but clear voice he asked.

"Where's Beckett?"