A technicality. A damn technicality by a rookie cop cost her the case.

At any other time, Beckett would have been upset, but okay after a night in her apartment, watching old TNT movies.

This time, however, she couldn't let it go.

If she did, her mother's killer would walk free.

The man had been smooth throughout the entire interrogation – Beckett and he had danced around each other, both playing their part of the law excellently. They would have ended in a stalemate if the Captain hadn't told her about Detective Revere's massive screw-up. Once the man knew he was home free, he pummeled her to the ground, taunting him with anything and everything he had without admitting to the crime. Once he had his fill, he stood up and started to walk away from the table.

Beckett had tried one last time to get him; if he confessed, she could still charge him.

"Tell me…" she started. Then, once she had his attention, he looked him straight in the eye. "Tell me you don't remember her." Johanna Beckett's picture was right below her, lying on the interrogation table. He took a gazed at it for a split second. A smirk fell upon his face, and he looked back up at Beckett.

"She was pretty tasty."

His words were like poison; his laugh, a controlled jab. He baited Beckett; he made sure that she wouldn't forget him, or her missed chance at justice.

But Beckett was hell-bent on making him remember his close encounter with the law.

The man was light enough, and Beckett was pissed. In no time, she had him pinned to the two-way mirror, which was cracking under the pressure of the man's weight and Beckett's anger. Her glare was enough to make the man stop fooling around. He simply stared at the detective, who was still pissed off as hell.

"Detective, it'd be well advised if you let me go." He said calmly. His gaze was a dead one; almost as if he saw this coming and had prepared his response.

Beckett wasn't letting him off just yet. "Like HELL!" she yelled, pulling him backwards in an attempt to push him into the mirror again.

Before she knew it, someone called for her, and a warm pair of hands grabbed her by the waist. She was falling downward, away from her target. She couldn't move; in the blind rage that consumed her, she couldn't figure out a way to cunningly get out of whatever held her and go after the man once more. She tried her hardest to fight her way out of the grasps of her captor directly, but it wouldn't let her go.

She struggled more, but a voice pierced her anger and appealed to her better half.

"Beckett!"

She stopped, finally being snapped out of the rage she felt. She was on the ground, her body enclosed in Castle's arms. She froze, her conscience taking its toll as it replayed what she had just done in her head.

It was a hell that she hadn't fallen into since the day she was told of her mother's death.

Castle, still holding Beckett, looked back up at the man, who was still standing where he was when Castle had ripped Beckett off of him.

"She's so fragile." He said, a dark smirk on his face. "It's such a shame."

"Get OUT!" Castle yelled, holding Beckett just a little closer. "Get out of here, NOW."

Before he could say anything, Montgomery showed up, taking the man out of the room with Ryan right behind him. Esposito came in with Lanie in tow.

"Beckett?" Lanie had asked, rushing over to her. Beckett was slumped in Castle's arms, her breathing shallow, her eyes glazed over.

"What's wrong with her?" Esposito asked. Castle was having the same thoughts. Beckett's gaze was still staring off into nothingness, and she was barely breathing. Castle was scared that she was going to pass out on them, so he loosened his hold on her, but still allowed her to lean on him for support.

"She's having a panic attack." Lanie calmly said. "Damn it, I knew it was too much…" she gently slapped the young woman's face. "Beckett? Come on, Beckett, snap out of it." Beckett's gaze finally snapped to focus on the ME. "Good, good. You okay?"

Beckett looked up at her, saying nothing. Instead, she ripped herself from Castle's grasp and walked out of the interrogation room. Castle never hesitated to follow.

"Beckett, where are you going?" The captain asked, coming back from seeing the man out. Beckett didn't even speak to him as she grabbed her coat. He blocked her direct path, but that only caused her to bash into him and continue walking. "Detective Kate Beckett!" He yelled, but it was no good.

She walked out of the precinct, much to everyone's surprise.

A moment of silence filled the room; no one could find the courage to speak after what they had just witnessed.

No one, that is, except a certain writer.

"Damn it!" He yelled, before sprinting toward the doors where Beckett had just left. Esposito was about to head after her, but Montgomery stopped him.

"Don't." he commanded. "It's not your job to go after her. Our job is to find something to hang that bastard with. His job is to help her get through it." He looked back just in time to see the door marked "STAIRS" slam shut. He took a deep breath. "He's her partner, after all."

Castle, rushing down the stairs with agility he didn't know he possessed, cringed as memories of happier days circulated in his head.

"I'd be happy to let you spank me."

"You smell like cherries."

"Shut the front door!"

"I love you…"

"Damn it!" He murmured one last time. He felt the anger that Beckett had felt; he recognized the pain she held. It was a special ability of his to empathize with those we was around; its what made him a damn good writer. And yet, he knew that the feelings he had felt are only a fraction of what Beckett had felt in those few minutes that the entire scene had unfolded.

He remembered her words – she knew that this case would tear her apart. Now, he was seeing exactly what Beckett was afraid of. She had told him that with such emotion that it came across to him as a warning – a sort of caution.

She was expecting him to find her if she was too far under to save herself. She was expecting him to be her hero. And he finally understood every word she uttered to him.

In the course of those couple of minutes, she had lost herself. It was his job to get her back.

He was at the last level of the building. Using the last of his strength, he banged the door open and yelled her name.

"BECKETT!"

Yay, nay, WTHeckles? Please let me know! –yoto!