Castle's mind wandered as Beckett began to speak. He wasn't good in situations like this, serious situations. You didn't deal with taunts about not knowing your father and your mother being a slut by being serious. You dealt with them by making a joke, a quick quip, turning the situation on it's head and making the bully the butt of the joke. But there were no quick quips to be made at Montgomery's funeral.
Montgomery had been tied up, in some way, in Beckett's Mom's death and he had died trying to save her. He had died saving her. It was over. He tried to feel relieved but as much as he tried, as much as he wanted to breathe out and feel the weight lift, he couldn't. There was something still there. The story hadn't ended.
It was then that he saw it. A glint in the distance, down the cemetery amongst some of the headstones, just by a large oak tree. It glinted twice before he realised what it was.
His only thought was Beckett. It wasn't over, of course it wasn't over. It would never be over. He briefly thought of Montgomery, that he had died in vain, but his mind quickly flashed back to Beckett. He dived, trying to knock her out of the path of the bullet.
It hit him by his armpit, tearing through his flesh, across his chest. It might have hit his heart, he didn't know. He was lying on the floor. He didn't know where he was but then there was a feeling of grass against his face and hands pressing the bloody wound and Beckett's face above him.
"Castle," she was saying "Hang on in there Castle."
He got the impression things were happening around him but it was too much to engage his other senses. They were blurred by the pain. He thought of Alexis and his mother.
"Kate," he said, though it had been his family he had been thinking of. He tried to look about for Alexis. Beckett held his head.
"Don't move," she said "Just, just promise me you'll hang on in there."
Castle was aware that Alexis was near. He saw her out of the corner of his eye, kneeling by Beckett.
"Dad," she said. Castle closed his eyes. He could see her face on the inside of his eyelids, the fear in her eyes. He started to cry.
"I'm sorry," he said, struggling. He couldn't bring himself to look at his daughter, the daughter he'd done everything to protect, the daughter he'd let down but he held out his hand for her to hold. She did, squeezing tightly.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"No, Dad, no, you're not dying, you're not, you're NOT," he heard, or variations of it from Alexis, from his mother, from Beckett. He could no longer feel Alexis squeezing his hand, he couldn't feel much.
"Catch him," Castle said, trying to focus on Beckett "Stay safe. Stay safe," he said it the second time to Alexis and Martha. He coughed. It was agony.
He felt, because he couldn't see them, Alexis and Martha being taken away, probably by ambulance men. It was too late.
"Stay safe," he said again.
He could feel Beckett looking down at him. Why wasn't she going? She was still in danger.
"Castle," he heard her say.
"We've got to get him to surgery as quickly as possible, ma'am," an ambulance man said. Still Beckett didn't leave.
"Castle," she said again "I love you."
And then everything was black.