Beckett had practically ran out of the interrogation room. In her state, she barely even saw the captain, and certainly didn't know what she was doing when she bashed into him on her way out. Still, she kept her stride. Before she knew it, she was heading towards the exit.

She advised herself against going in the elevator; she needed to blow off steam, and she needed to do it now. Practically running down the stairs, tears starting to fall, Beckett cursed lightly as she pushed open the door and entered the parking lot.

It was quiet, almost comically quiet given the event that had just unfolded. She looked around, but found no one in sight. She took a deep breath – the only conscious effort to calm herself – before doing the only thing she thought of.

She ran. She sprinted towards the street, not bothering to look both ways. She could have sworn that she heard someone call her name, but she simply didn't care.

She kept on running.

She ran past a happy couple enjoying the lights of NYC for the first time; she ran past a couple of kids discussing the latest video game; she ran as fast as she could for as long as she could. She tried to stay on the main roads, but eventually it became too crowded, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. The lights of time square were simply too much for her, and the world as she knew it began to spin. She couldn't take it anymore; she had to get out of there.

She took the first side street on her right, and instantly regretted it.

The alley she had rushed into was dimly lit, and because of that she failed to see the pothole below her. She yelled in pain, her ankle twisting in on itself, and she fell to the ground hard. She tried to get up, but the pain was killing her. Instead, she looked back at the main street.

There, she saw a man advancing on her. At first, she tried to move away from it, but his voice made her stay.

"What the hell were you thinking, Beckett?"

She didn't have to wait for her eyes to adjust in order to know who it was.

"What do you want, Castle?" How did you even find me?

"What do you think I was going to do, watching you walk out like that?" He quipped, checking out her ankle. "I think it's only twisted. Can you get up?"

"Get out of here, Castle." She simply replied. "I don't need you here trying to put together the pieces. I can do it just fine by myself."

"Really?" He asked. "Tell me then, Detective, why you run? Why did you turn into a random alley in the middle of the night? Are you insane? You could have gotten yourself KILLED!" He yelled. Beckett was finally able to stand, despite the dull throb from her ankle. Castle noticed her wince when she tried to put pressure on it. "Damn it, Kate…"

"Let me GO, Castle." She said, her words filled anger. "I'm just fine by myself."

"Yeah, right." His sarcastic remark was quick. "Which is how you ended up here in the first place." He looked down at her ankle. "This isn't like you, Beckett. You know that. Just calm down; we can get this all figured out once you have a clearer head."

Beckett pushed herself away from him. "Just go away, Castle. I don't have time for you or your soliloquies."

"Beckett, please-"

"NO, Castle." She said, anger clear in her voice. She turned to him, pushing him into the brick wall that made up a side of the alley. "I'm sick and tired of all of this. I'm DONE; do you hear me? DONE." He tried to advance onto her, but Beckett pushed him back again. "I told you this case would ruin me, Castle… why the hell didn't you listen to me when I told you to NEVER open that file?"

"Because you needed closure, Beckett." He said softly. "You still need it. I saw that sadness in your eyes; I saw the pain, the anger; it was so clear to everyone around you. You need to release it, Beckett… or else it'll consume you. It'll consume you and you'll never bounce back from it." His eyes were pleading for her, but she refused to look at him. "Beckett, look at me." She didn't move. "Beckett, look at me!" He said, his force contorted into a mixture of concern with a tint of anger. Beckett met his gaze with one of hatred and darkness; the writer swore he had only saw that kind of glare in the eyes of the criminals at Rikers. It wasn't the Katherine Beckett he knew anymore; he doubted that anyone knew the Beckett standing before him.

Katherine Beckett, at that moment, was a scared, angry kid; the Beckett the real Kate swore she would never turn into ever since her mother's murder. He knew she wasn't herself – he knew that from the start of the events in the interrogation room – but he hadn't known just how out of it Beckett was until that moment, with her eyes locking with his. He saw how much anger possessed her, how much pain engulfed her; he understood everything.

And now he knew what to do.

"Beckett, you can't walk on that." He said, pointing to her ankle. "I can get us a tai, and then we'll go home, alright?" He extended his hand.

Beckett's glare softened as she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn't run anymore – physically, at least. The run throughout Manhattan had tired her out, and her ankle was still killing her. She didn't see any other choice.

She had tried so hard to run away, she realized, but once again Castle had interfered with her thoughts, her plan. Typical. She couldn't help thinking, as the first tear started to form. She was about to linger on just why she was crying when she looked up and found that his hand was still extended towards her. He was waiting ever so patiently for her consent. He was waiting for her to put her hand in his.

Tentatively, she took his waiting hand with a nod. The tears that fell softly were ignored by Castle as he helped her out of the alleyway and back to the busy streets New York was famous for. After some time, Castle was able to hail a cab.

After helping Beckett in, he climbed in, too. Whispering an address into the driver's ear, he sat back and looked at Beckett's form slumped onto the seat; the adrenaline from the events of the night had stopped, allowing her body to shut down and try to recover.

Castle, risking the trouble he could be in should it go poorly, put his arm around her. She instinctively snuggled closer to him, the warmth more comfortable than the city's cold winter temperature.

Looking down at her sleeping form, Castle had remembered the words the man had told him.

She's so fragile… its such a shame.

"She's not fragile." He said out loud. The driver took a glance at him before deciding it was better off not knowing and continued the drive in silence. Castle finished his thought in his head.

She's not fragile… she's extraordinary.

Hey guys, Yoto here. Just want to thank you all for the really awesome reviews, story likes, alerts, etc.! After the massive amount of support overnight, I couldn't stop writing. Oh, and a disclaimer – I don't own anything (full disclaimer in profile, but basically I don't own anything at all); this also includes a map of New York City. (Do we even know where the 12th precinct is located anyway…?) So, I'm sorry if it doesn't seem realistic to native NYC'ers.

Anyway, Yay? Nay? WTHeckles? Please review! Thanks again! -yoto