Etzli B'seder Gamur

With me, things are completely okay.

or

Yiddisher Mazel

Bad luck; literally "Jewish luck"

When they say Neal Caffrey knows everyone, that might be a slight over exaggeration. After all, he knew a good chunk of the world's population, but he'd never met everybody. He'd certainly never met the blond guard shouting in German when he began to come to after being knocked unconscious and taken to G-d know's where.

He groaned, trying to sit up, but the guard turned to yell at him in more incoherent German, the words too slopped together by the thick Russian accent.

"Ich spreche Deutsch," he shouted back at the man, the pounding in his head becoming more persistent, "Ich spreche Russisch. Ich spreche Englisch verdammt, mutterficker!"

The German speaking Russian made a face, one that made Neal think the man didn't know nearly as much German as he thought he did, before he left.

"Never knew you had that kind of mouth on you, Caffrey," a voice came coolly beside him. He glanced to the side and sure enough, the voice belonged to none other than Gordon Taylor. "Friends of yours?"

"I was kind of hoping they were friends of yours," Neal replied, looking around the cell like room to see who else might be there with them. A man, partially burned and unconscious in a ruined tux lay to the left of him. The man looked familiar, but not enough for Neal to conjure up a name for him.

"That's Richard Castle, the writer." He pushed himself upright, trying to stop the way the world spun when he did. Gordon was next to him in a moment, placing his hand on his shoulder, helping to ground him. "Easy now."

"Get back."

"Whoa, just trying to help. No need to be so touchy."

But Neal wasn't listening to him. He moved over to the corner where there was a bucket placed there for their toilet, crawled really, and threw up. The taste was foul and the stench made him retch. He tried to move, but his head and stomach fought him over it, forcing him to loose the last bit of his breakfast.

"I think I have a concussion."

Gordon snorted. "What are you? A doctor?"

"No, but my brother was one." He moved back away, sitting on his haunches, holding his head. "Besides, don't have to be a doctor to know a head injury." Gordon tossed him a bottle of water and he drank it down greedily.

Castle groaned besides them, moving slightly. "Kate…"

Kate… so Richard Castle had someone special and that's why he was dressed like he was heading for prom.

"I do. I do. I do," he muttered, still obviously more in his head than reality.

"Please, you don't," Neal groaned, obviously in a bitter mood.

Castle frowned in his sleep, his head rolling to face the two men. "Kate?"

"No."

And in an instant, Castle was awake. "Who the hell are you?" he shouted, looking at the two men, looking like he was trying to fight the fight or flight instinct. Neal knew that look a little too well.

"Gordon Taylor and this is Neal Caffrey. I'm afraid you've been kidnapped and so have we."

The German speaking Russian opened the door again. Instantly, Neal turned on him, even as the man set down some bottles of water.

"Poshol na khuy, mudák. Súkin syn!"

The Russian looked startled at someone yelling at him in his own language. Another man looked over them, giving Neal a rather sick feeling. Castle didn't look too steady either after seeing the man.

"Tyson…"

The man smirked at them, then the door slammed shut.

"Who the hell was he?" Gordon demanded.

"Jerry Tyson. He's 3XK, the-"

"The serial killer?" Neal lay his head back against his shoulders. "Great. What does 3XK want with us?"

"To make me miserable. I was suppose to be at my wedding. But there was a car and then my car was on fire and…" The writer's voice trailed off, before it came back harder than before. "I should have killed him when I had the chance."

The other two men looked up, surprised. Neither had been expecting a mystery writer to be able to hold that much malice in his voice.

"You had the chance to kill a serial killer?" Gordon asked, semi-sarcastically.

"I could have made the chance." He eyed both of them up, "Mossad and EYP, right?" They both stared at him. "I used to freelance for the CIA and NSA."

"How?" It was Gordon who spoke. Neal was in shock of being made by a mystery writer of all people.

"He curses in German with an Israeli accent and you try too hard to cover up your accent."

Neal brought a hand over his face in disbelief.

It was some time later before the door opened again and a more familiar face appeared. He wanted to hate her, mostly because he did hate her, but he also wanted to beat the hell out of her if he could stand steady.

"Rachel?"

"You know her?" Neal looked at Gordon. Rachel smirked.

"Well, this is awkward. You see, Gordy and I used to be engaged." She ran the tip of her gun along the suave conman's throat. "That was, until he tried to turn me in." She pistol whipped him.

"Sweetheart," Gordon groaned, "You could have ruined my life style and my reputation. You were a risk."

"Yeah, well, we'll see what you say after the fun happens."

"What's with the Russians?" Neal asked her, glaring.

"Apparently, they hate you. You killed their boss or something like that. Hey, they hate you and wanted to help. That's good enough for me."

She strutted out of the cell, slamming the door behind her, but not before the man with her, the one Castle identified as 3XK, threw another dark haired man in the cell. The man fell to his knees before he looked up, looking around, before his eyes landed on Neal.

"You know, I'm really sick of being kidnapped because of you, Caffrey."

"Good God, not another one!" Gordon exclaimed, still clutching his cheek.

"Yeah, well, I can't say I'm thrilled either," Neal muttered dryly.

"The little guy came to me yesterday, asked if I had something to do with you going missing. Yeah, because after last time, I really want to kidnap you again."

Castle snorted. "Again? How many times have you gotten yourself kidnapped, Caffrey?"

"Occupational hazard. What's your excuse?"

"Unfortunately, the same. And we know his excuse is for pissing off the crazy girl. But why's he here?"

"More than likely because the universe hates me," Keller muttered, looking in disgust at the door before he started shouting, "For the last time, people! Caffrey and I are not friends! Will everyone please stop kidnapping me because of him?"

A gleeful chuckle could be heard from the other side of the door.

"I can't even begin to guess who he works for," Castle muttered dryly.

"Himself," Neal supplied, attempting to stand with the help of the wall.

"Next time you get yourself kidnapped, Caffrey, leave me out of it. I was perfectly happy with my prison cell and my cigars."

Neal glared at Keller. "I'm sorry. My ex-girlfriend is a psychopath."

"Yeah, so I've heard."

Everyone was silent after that.

"So we ambush them, right? You take the girl, he takes the Russian, and I'll take Tyson."

"And what about me?" Keller asked Castle, looking like he'd been slighted.

"Well, I'm sure Tyson's girlfriend's here somewhere. You can take her."

Neal rolled his eyes. It was a bad sign when you'd been somewhere long enough that your concussion was starting to feel better. It was bad enough the shear amount of people involved in this, or the fact that the FBI probably thought he'd run. Poor Castle's fiancée was probably going to kill him. Keller would get stuck in a metal box somewhere in hopes of stopping him from being kidnapped by people looking to kidnap Neal. And in all of this, he was surprised his father hadn't shown up to ruin his life more.

"We've got to get their guns away from them when they first get in the cell."

Neal snorted as Castle raised his eyebrows. "Afraid your ex will hit you again with it?"

"You should be more afraid of what your girlfriend will do."

Castle smiled wistfully.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. The four men jumped up, each alert and prepared to fight.

The door creaked open and all hell broke loose.

Three days.

She was supposed to be married three days ago.

How could everything have gotten so screwed up?

It'd been three days since Castle had… had what? Died, been kidnapped, went missing on the way to their wedding, his car burnt on the side of the road. For all she and the rest of the PD knew, he could have been burn to death in the car.

The phone rang and she picked it up out of habit, expecting another sympathy caller.

"Detective Beckett?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"This is Special Agent Peter Burke, FBI." FBI? Oh God! Had they found Castle, in a ditch somewhere? Was his murder really the work of Bracken or even Tyson? "We found him, er- he found us."

"Him?" What did he mean 'he found them?'

"Your fiancé, Richard Castle, he's alive. He's in the FBI office now. He was kidnapped by Jerry Tyson, Rachel Turner, and Kelly Nieman. Tyson's body was found at the warehouse where he and a few others were being held, along with Turners. I heard that you were the detective on the 3XK case and I thought you might like some closure on that."

But she hadn't heard anything he said after the first sentence.

"He's alive?" she whispered.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

"Yes. He's in the FBI offices. If you want, I could arrange for a car to pick you-"

"No, I'm on my way!" Kate yelled, grabbing her keys as she started to run out the door of her apartment. Castle was alive.

"Keller's getting parole because he keeps getting kidnapped in prison. Something about the state feels it's safe for him to be outside."

Neal snorted.

"This is the second set of dead bodies where Keller's been kidnapped. I think he killed them."

"He didn't kill them. I did. Self defense," Neal told Peter gently, like that explained everything. He was watching through the window to the bullpen, where a brunette was rushing in to hug and kiss Castle desperately. He supposed that was Castle's Kate. The two were talking and he imagined them making new wedding plans. "I would have thought you'd been in D.C. by now."

"Couldn't. I declined the job there when they declined your release." Peter flipped a folder closed. "That won't be necessary now though. They decided they have to set you free. You helped to bring 3XK to justice. Hell, they want to give you a commendation."

"I'll pass. I never was much for awards."

He was quiet, much too quiet for Peter's liking. "Neal? If you need anybody to talk to..."

"That's okay. I've got someone. They're good."

But he was still quiet and it felt all wrong.

"Hey Peter? Go down to D.C. Go be with Elizabeth. Diana and Jones, they'll be fine and you know it."

"What about you?"

"Once I'm off this," he gestured to his leg, "I'm leaving New York. I've outlasted my welcome here. It's time I move on."

"El will come back for this, you know. We'll have a party.

Rossabi knocked on the door before opening it. "Neal, call for you next door."

"Thanks. Is it-?"

"If you're going to ask if it's a scary blonde woman who just had a kid, then yes."

"Thanks. I'll be right over there." Rossabi nodded and left. "I should really take that."

Downstairs, Keller was handcuffed to a chair. Gordon was making faces at the coffee. Diana was talking to Jones. Things were simple here. If he took the call, things would never be simple again.

He walked next door and picked up the phone.

"Hello Joan, this is Navon Chait."