Shattered

"If you're going through hell, keep going."

-Winston Churchill

He hadn't checked his website in over a week. Between dealing with the final weeks before publication of the second Nikki Heat novel and following Beckett on cases, he simply hadn't had the time. With the release of the cover earlier that morning, he'd planned to log on and check this particular section later today – and now wished that he'd done so much earlier.

Well aware that he was an inch from holding his breath, Castle logged on to the site and found the section that he needed rather quickly: the comment section. Readers were encouraged to leave feedback on any aspect of the novel that they wished to. Most of the comments now were about the cover released that morning. Those weren't the comments that were going to do him any good – though he scrolled through them anyway, looking through them for anything out of the ordinary. He'd received those types of comments before, of course: stalkerish comments about Derrick Storm, but never before had a character been based on a real person.

The cover had received good feedback, but only one comment in the section caught the writer's eye. It wasn't a logged in comment, but he had the option turned on that logged all IP addresses, so it wouldn't be much of a problem to track the commenter down.

'Doesn't do her justice, Richard. It seems like you never even met her. I have. Several times. Get your facts correct.'

Castle hissed out a soft breath before turning to look towards Detective Ryan. "I think I've got something here." The detective raised his head and came towards the computer. Rick moved aside to let them have a view of the screen. With a single finger, he pointed to the comment in question.

It took Ryan only a second to read it before he cursed quietly. "Can you find all comments by that IP address, Castle?"

The writer nodded quickly. "Already on it." He moved quickly into the control section of the website, typing in the IP address that leaving the comment had logged.

"I've got something too." Alexis called out suddenly from her place at Ryan's desk. She was holding up two files in her hand. She didn't wait for Ryan to come to her. She moved quickly from the desk instead, heading towards him with the files. "Both of these are from the same guy. Ethan Anderson. Detective Beckett had his case six years ago, but the file says she couldn't convict him. There wasn't enough evidence."

Castle was already going towards his daughter, leaving the website still searching for comments by that address. "What are the complaints about?"

"He says he didn't get the chance to get a lawyer, but it also says that he refused one earlier. That's the first one. The second is that he waited too long in the interrogation room, but the first was what caught my attention. What do you think?"

"I think you did good work, Alexis. I'll need to see if that case went cold or if a conviction was ever made." Ryan told her.

At the sound of a beep Castle turned back around. The search had completed. He quickly returned to the chair in front of her computer, stopping his jaw from dropping at the long list of comments. There were seventeen from the past three days alone, all of them similar to the tone of the first: he hadn't done her justice. He didn't see her in the same light as he did. He had to get his facts right. The comments had started sometime soon after the article about Beckett and himself.

"Print those." Ryan said, reading over Castle's shoulder. "We're going to need a trace on that address." He was already going towards the phone to dial a technical analyst.

"What about Ethan?" Alexis questioned.

"I'll follow that one as well." Ryan assured her. "One of these has got to give us something." After hanging up with the analyst, Ryan nodded to Beckett's computer. "Castle, do a search on Ethan Anderson. See what comes up."

The writer quickly typed the name into Google. Several links popped up and he clicked on the first. The man's heart was going too quickly, making him sick to his stomach.

"Ethan Anderson." He said aloud. The website he'd clicked on was one for a local newspaper that had covered the murder investigation: three young women, all under twenty five. "He was the chief suspect in one of Detective Beckett's early cases. There were three women whose bodies were never found, but she didn't have enough evidence to convict him. He walked." He went to another link, but shook his head angrily. He read nearly in monotone, paraphrasing from the article that he read. Today wasn't one of those days where he'd add stories and flare. "There was a hotline set up, but the case went cold." He grit his teeth. "Damn."

"There's something there that I don't understand." Alexis added, coming to stand next to Ryan. Her blue eyes were curious.

"What's that?" Castle continued to scroll down the article.

"If Beckett let Ethan walk, why would he take her now?"

--

It was becoming more difficult to breath. She knew without a doubt that she had broken ribs. She'd had them before, knew what they'd felt like, and knew that she had to try to keep breathing normally. Otherwise, she risked the chance of infection.

The only saving grace was that her feet weren't tied. Digging her teeth into her lower lip, Kate rolled so that her weight was resting on her left hip. Pain flared through her abdomen, but she ignored it in lieu of a way of escape. Heaving herself forward, she managed so that she was resting on her knees instead of sitting.

Of course, she'd forgotten about the broken ankle, but knew that she had to forget that, too. Doctors could fix things. They couldn't fix things if she were dead. Lanie was not getting her body in autopsy today.

She leaned her weight against the cement wall behind her, biting down harder on her lip so that she wouldn't make a noise. Bracing herself there, she was able to push herself up using her uninjured ankle, resting her weight on it as she managed a standing/leaning position against the wall.

Detective Beckett heaved a sigh of relief through pain.

She was standing. She could do more things from standing. It was this simple train of thought that enabled her to continue to stand on one foot, braced against cold, damp cement. She attempted to roll the rope off of her wrists using the wall, but had no luck with that endeavor.

It was then that the door opened, and blinding light flashed into the near absolute darkness.

Author's Note:

There were several questions as to this story. Two of them I'll address here.

A reviewer asked about Beckett and her thoughts of Castle in the previous chapter. No, she does not know where she is. Neither does he. She merely expects Castle to attempt to help and do something idiotic, getting himself hurt in the process – as with all the times that she's told him to stay in the car and he hasn't.

No, this isn't a song fic. I include quotes at the beginnings of chapters. Sometimes, I'll use song lyrics instead of a quote. This time, I used a quote.

I hope that you enjoyed this chapter – I have a feeling there are several angry people for where I ended it – but … please, opinions, reviews, comments, it makes the word go 'round.