I know i'm in the middle of another fic, but i cant keep this one bottled up for much longer. Ive always wondered what the break up between Beckett and Josh was like, when and where it was, what was said and what was done, how much of a fight did Josh put up. Also, i kind of regret making Josh so nice and understanding in my last fic. So I decided to make him the asshole that he was portrayed as in Rise. I will also go in another direction with the swing scene, and it will be really dramatic and stuff! Its rated M for language.

Disclaimer: still not mine, but i can dream cant i?

"You deserve to be happy. But your afraid!"

"This isn't about your mothers' murder anymore, this is about you needing a place to hid!"

"You hide in these nowhere relationships with men you DON'T LOVE!"

His words of the confrontation ring in her head. Replaying it over and over again in her head, she feels the clench in her stomach every time she recalls herself cursing him to get out. Never in her life has someone stood up to her like that, never called her on anything having to do with her mother's death. She hated him in the few hours after him accusing her of hiding. She scorned herself for letting him get so close, for not telling him to get out sooner, because she didn't need to hear those things.

She always had a drive to uncover the truth behind a swarm of lies someone had told to protect themselves, but here she was, watching him retreat out the door after telling him that she didn't remember. It was a split second decision she had made when she registered him entering the room. She didn't notice the way Josh had puffed out his chest on his way out, looking ready to snap at the sight of Castle.

She was hiding.

After Castle had left, Josh made his way back into her room, looking behind him toward the door with anger flashing in his eyes.

"What the hell was he doing here?" Josh spat.

"He just came to see how I was doing."

"Kate, he..." He started, ready for a speech but was interrupted by her stern voice.

"Josh, I'm tired. I need to rest." She said, with a blank look on her pale face.

"Okay, I'll be here tomorrow to help you get discharged." He said, in a small voice. He then got up and left with out another word, or even a glance back to her.

When Josh returned the next afternoon, Kate had been slowly making her way out of the bathroom, next to her made hospital bed. She greeted him flatly. "Hey, Josh."

"Hey there. The discharge papers should be here any minute and then I can take you home." He said coming around to give her a hand.

"Thanks." She said, the flat tone still there.

The discharged papers were signed, and she was out the door into the waiting taxi Josh had called. They made their way to her apartment and she slowly made her way to her bedroom closet to get the NYPD police academy duffel bag that lay in back. She threw it onto her bed, along with some old T-shirts and sweatpants. It was a few moments later when Josh came across the room to survey what she was doing, that she stopped.

"What are you doing?" He asked in a heavy tone.

"My dad offered his cabin to me while I'm on leave from work, to help me recover. I'll be there for the rest of the summer, at least."

"You're leaving? Kate, do you really think that that's a good idea?" He asked, faking worry.

"It's my decision, either way." She said, still throwing clothes onto her bed, next to the open duffel bag.

"Kate, what's going on? Why are you so mad?" He asked, in an almost accusing tone, as if to say 'what did I do?'.

"Josh, not now." He spat, not bothering to look up.

"Yes, now! You come home after I pry a bullet out of your chest, and you're acting like I'm the one that shot you."

"Josh! I don't want to talk about it! My dad will be here in an hour and I'd like to be alone when he gets here." she said, coming to glare at him.

"What, so now I can't meet your dad?" He asked, taking a step forward and lifting his arms up in a confused shrug.

"What would I say? Hey dad! This is my boyfriend who is never here, but holds the fact that he did his job and pried a bullet out of my chest over my head and then gets mad at me when I don't want to talk about it four days after it happens. Do you like him, daddy? Is that what you want?" She countered.

"What I want is for you is to be realistic!" Josh said, as if that was to bring her to her senses.

"Realistic? You think that it's realistic for me to keep this 'relationship'," she air quoted, "going after what you have done?!"

"What do you mean what I've done?"

"Oh come one, Josh. Cut the Crap! My dad told me how you reacted when he saw you coming toward him. You really think you reserve a second chance after making a first impression like that? He saw you and the first thing you do is shove my partner against a wall and tell him it's his fault that my captain was dead and that there was a bullet in my chest!" She said, pointing a finger at him.

"Oh, so this is about him! That's what this is all about. This is about the little crush you have on writer-boy." He said, mocking her.

With that remark, she snapped.

"That boy has done more for me that you have in the past year and you're my fucking boyfriend! He threw himself in front of that bullet, with out a second thought or a bat of an eye lash! And it's because of that boy that I'm even alive today!" She said, getting angrier with every word that came out of his mouth.

"Kate, If it wasn't for him pushing you to look into your mother's murder, you never would have been shot!"

"If it wasn't for him caring so much that I never found justice after my mother bled to death over the trash in a back alley, I would be dead by now! I caught the son of a bitch who stabbed her because of that boy, and because of that 'boy', one day I'm going to find the bastard that hired him to do it! Tell me, when was the last time you cared enough even to ask what happened to my mom, when I spend the last January ninth in my shower, still in work out clothes, with cold water pouring down on me, while I sobbed for three hours? You want to know what happened after that? That 'boy' came over, while you were out saving the world, and just watched movies until he was sure that I was asleep. When was the last time you did that for me with out rushing off to the sound of your fucking beeper?!"

"It's my job, Kate! You of all people should understand that! But he has no place following you around like a god damn lost puppy all the time! I thought that after I was called to look you over after being stuck in a freeze, he would get the message and go home. But apparently, he's dumber than he looks."

"Don't you DARE talk about him like that! He is the smartest man I've ever met! I wouldn't have solved half of the cases that I have these past three years with out him! He has more of a place in my life than my own boyfriend does! The only thing that that shows me is how stupid I have been for thinking that we actually stood half a chance at making this work. Now, get out! I have to pack." She spat, as watched as he stood there, visibly breathing, fists clenched into tight fists, ready to punch a hole in the dry wall of her bedroom. After too long of a moment she reminded him, "I told you to get out!" With that he finally relented and turned on his heel and stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

She expected tears to fall, but they never did. It was only relief to finally be rid of him. After a few minutes she heard a firm knock on her door, startling her out of her thoughts. She went to answer it, checking the peep hole first, she opened with a warm smile to greet her father.

"Hey Dad." She said, outstretching her arms to invite him in for a hug. He came in and wrapped his arms around his daughter and spoke softly. "Hey, Katie. How you feeling?" He asked, as he removed himself from her embrace.

"Alright, just tired." She said in an unwavering voice.

"You sure? I saw your boyfriend down on the street, he looked pretty upset. Everything alright?" He said, closing the door and locking it, being a little more paranoid for her safety than normal.

"We broke up." She said, as if nothing was wrong, and went to go pack her duffel bag with the clothes she had thrown next to it and head out the door.

"Really? I'm sorry, sweetie, I know you liked him." He said, some what glad she broke it off after what he witnessed him do after his little girl had been shot.

"I did, but it just wasn't working." She said, zipping up the bag. Deciding to leave it at that, and not wanting to upset her in her condition, Jim took the bag from her grasp, much to her protest and assertions that she could carry it herself.

"I'll call you."

Those three little words were all he had to hold on to. After three months, what had started as a hope for a chance to talk things out, quickly started to turn into a false one. He had only himself to blame. If it wasn't for him digging where he didn't belong, she would have never gotten into this, she would have gone on with her life, met some one and lived happily ever after, if such a thing really existed. He once had faith that it did, he thought he had found that in Kyra, but was shattered when she left for the UK. Then Meredith came along and was the complete opposite of what he had lost. He thought that she was his happily ever after, and was even more convinced when she came to him almost ecstatic, saying that she was pregnant, but was once again shattered when he discovered one of her many affairs. He had since lost all hope of a happily ever after for himself.

It was another set of three little words, that hold no meaning by themselves, but mean so much more when said together, that had destroyed his chances, when it was usually those three words that was the glue that held it all together. It was a split second decision to make his confession, just as split as tackling her had been. He felt his gut coil in guilt for putting her through this, for telling her that he loved her while she had been writhing on the ground with blood coming up to stain her white gloves that went along with her now blood stained dress uniform. He would have been better off just walking away when she told him to.

In the month that followed her shooting, and his departure from the hospital, with her telling him that she'd 'call him', he threw himself into her case, staying up well past healthy hours, not eating because he found it never settled right in his stomach with him knowing that the man was still out there for all he knew, that man could have his sites trained on her head this time, making sure he didn't miss. He would stare at the murder board at the precinct for hours and hours on end, only looking away to steal a glance at her name plate that lay in the same place she left it. The boys had been supportive, telling him that he's done all he could, that she's alive, that she's alright, that he should go home and get some rest, but he always said the same thing in response, "Not until I have answers."

When Captain Victoria "Iron" Gates showed up a month and a half after the funeral, and decided that he had no place in 'her' precinct, he fought against her only momentarily before resigning to his fate, and slinking home, with what very little dignity he could scrounge. They boys offered to take him out for drinks when they got off, but he declined, wanting to be alone, to stew in his own self loathing, and his failure.

"Castle." Ryan whispered to him, holding a file in his hands, and gesturing for him to join him in the stair well.

"What is it, Ryan?" He asked, impatience seeping off of his voice.

"Here," He handed him the file on the case they had all been struggling on, her smiling picture on front only served to deepen the stab of pain he felt in his side.

"The last thing we need is Gates finding this and going ape-shit on us." He said.

"Thanks, Kevin." He said, not sure if he was really grateful or not.

"Don't worry bro, we'll find him." He patted him strongly on the shoulder before heading back into the bullpen before his absence was noticed by his new captain.

He took the file home and shoved it in the back of his safe in his office, hoping to be forgotten until they really did find their man. After another week of sitting at home with nothing more than a bottle of scotch and the worried and disapproving gaze of both his mother and daughter, he got a scolding phone call from Gina, telling him that he needed to quit playing around and get back to his own job, and quit doing someone else's. He didn't have the energy to fight back, so he sent in his last chapter, and attended all the events Gina had already planned for him with a fake attitude that it was all going to be alright, that better days are ahead. Until he eventually was asking for Gina to book more signings and more readings, more release parties, the only reason is they kept him busy and keeping his mind as preoccupied as possible was keeping the stinging feeling of her at bay.

After being reminded by Gina that he had a book signing at a Barnes and Noble near the park at noon, he got dressed and headed out the door, getting a hug from his little girl, glad to see her dad starting to get back to normal. He was not surprised when he arrived at the book store in the back entrance and saw a long line in front of his usual small desk that was stacked with his newly released novel and an uncomfortable chair that he would sit in for the next few hours. The signing went on as per the usual, signing on the title page, and not on the dedication page like he used to do. He tried to get through the first signing he had booked, signing on his usual page, the dedication page, but couldn't do it. Seeing Roy's name in print only served to bring back memories of the funeral, of his helping carry his casket, the speech and then...

He always signed on the dedication page, because it would cause people to actually read it, instead of just skipping ahead to where the book actually began. He dedicated his books for a reason, and to people that mattered to him, and if people took the time to read it, it made him feel like he was doing something selfless. But now, mindlessly asking for names of girls ranging from young teens to late fifties to mid sixties, he couldn't help but feel selfish for changing his long time tradition because he couldn't bare the memories.

With the line winding down, he asked for the next persons' name, flipping to the title page and waiting, pen in hand to sign it.

"Kate, you can make it out to Kate." A small but too familiar voice called from the other side of the desk. His muscles shivered involuntarily at the sound of her velvety voice. Hoping that his tired mind was just playing tricks on him, he looked up to see the hope of a false reality had been dashed. For standing in front of him was his partn... was Kate Beckett, asking for him to sigh her copy of his book. He simply kept the stoic look on his face, closed the book cover calmly, and ended the book signing there, receiving no objections from Gina, but receiving many from the awaiting fans that have yet to have their prayers answered and have him sign their book, thinking that he was paying special attention to each one, like he would remember a face from a book signing if he saw it on the street.

He walked out the front entrance, shaking a few hands, getting the usual comments on his book and walked go hail a cab to head home, eagerly waiting to forget this day. He looked up to see her figure. He took a split second to take in her appearance. She looked healed, to say the least. She looked rested, but with a slight edge, as if waiting for another shot to ring out. He stepped around her and started to walk off once more.

"Castle, wait!" She pleaded fruitlessly.

"I did, three months. You never called." He stopped at the corner, waiting for the next empty cab to appear, but oddly enough, none were in immediate sight. The ONE time I actually need a cab, he thought inwardly as an impatient scowl appeared on his face.

"Castle, I wanted to call. But I couldn't, not with out dragging myself into everything that I just needed to get away from." She pleaded to his stiff back.

He didn't listen to what she said. Just the fact that she was here trying to justify herself to him was enough to send him off the edge of the control he slowly built back up over the last two months.

"Do you know what it's like? Do you know what it's like seeing blood pouring out of someone, knowing there isn't a fucking thing you can do to stop it, except just sit there and tell that person that everything is going to be fine, when the reality of it is you don't know a dam thing except the fact that they have a bullet in their chest? I watched you die in that ambulance, Kate! I still have nightmares of that day, Kate. I still hear the sound of your heart monitor dead pan into that gut wrenching tone every time I hear someone's cell phone ring. And to add insult to injury, your precious doctor motorcycle boy got in my face, telling me that I might as well of been the one to pull the trigger, that I was responsible for Montgomery's death. That was ALL I had, Kate. That was all I had. That and a false promise that you'd call me, thinking it would be maybe a week, or at a stretch, a month. But no. You come here, as if nothing nothing was wrong, that we could just pick up where we left off? After that? No, Kate! No!" He finished.

With multiple stares angled in their direction, he stormed off in wide and frustrated steps and soon disappeared around the corner, leaving her to stand shocked, ashamed, and watery eyed in the cold streets of New York.

A/N: I know that when I see a fic rated M, the first thing I think of is caskett sex, and the last thing i think of is castle yelling at kate, so please forgive me, but this take of the story was one I felt needed to be told.

If the response is big enough, I will write another chapter to this, and maybe turn it into a full story. If I do, the next chapter will be kates leave, and coming back to the precinct, and my take on that. So please! REVIEW! Let me know your thoughts on this.