Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

Castle is bristling. "What am I doing here? What does it look like I'm doing? I'm visiting my partner. My friend."

"Yeah, but what you're obviously doing is upsetting her." Davidson is physically crowding him now. "I have to ask you to leave."

"Leave?" He's trying to maintain some measure of civility in front of Beckett, but he's not about to let this douche order him around. "Under whose authority?"

"Mine. She's my patient."

"Really? It's my understanding that she's under the care of Doctor Kovacs, not you. So, if it's all right with Kate, I'll stay a little longer."

Beckett is looking at neither of them; her stony glance is aimed somewhere at the wall. But then she turns her face back to the surgeon and says evenly, "I asked Castle to come see me. I can decide. I can take care of myself."

"Really? Tell that to the bullet we extracted from your chest. Tell that to the pulmonary vein that I clamped to keep you alive."

"Josh." Her eyes have filled again.

"Looks like you're the one who's upsetting her, Davidson," Castle says, civility ebbing.

"Let's have this conversation elsewhere, not in front of the patient." Davidson glares at him. "Come with me."

"Fine." Castle gets up from the chair, and at the door he says over his shoulder, "Beckett? I'll be right back."

"Don't count on it," Josh says, his hand at Castle's elbow.

Once they're in the corridor, Castle wrests his arm away and Josh leads them to a small, windowless consulting room. "We have privacy here," he says, gesturing for Castle to come in before he closes the door. "I don't know what the hell she sees in you," he says, turning on him. He's not actually spitting, but it sounds as though he is. "Money, I guess."

"Money? You call her your girlfriend, but you haven't a clue about her. I've never met anyone less interested in money." They're standing no more than 18 inches apart, and the air is already electric. "What exactly do you know about her anyway, Davidson? You know the name of the dog she got for her sixth birthday? How about her favorite book? Or movie? Or color?" He feels his jaw twitch and his face get warm; he involuntarily balls up his hands. "And I'm just getting started. How many times did she have to get her father out of the drunk tank? Why do polar bears make her cry? Why did she get suspended in middle school? What knock-knock joke cracks her up?"

"Knock-knock joke? Jesus, Rick. You ever going to grow up?"

"You can tell a lot about someone by the jokes they like."

"You know what? I'm sick of this shit. I have to hear about you all the time. I know what your favorite movie is, for Chrissake."

That takes him aback. "You do?"

"Yeah. I know plenty. But more to the point? I know Kate in important ways, ways you never will."

"To quote you, Josh," he says, biting down hard on the name, "don't count on it."

When Davidson shoves him against the wall this time, it's with considerably more force, and even more menace. "You fucking my girlfriend?"

"No—"

" 'cause I'll tell you what she really likes—"

It's a mistake to underestimate Castle's speed, strength, and agility, especially when he is angry. He's as angry now as he has ever been, and his opponent has underestimated him in every way. He comes off the wall with silent and terrifying force: his right fist lands in the middle of Davidson's face and his left in his solar plexus. "You son of a bitch," he grits out, as the doctor folds over and drops to the floor.

He stands over him, the gentlemanly side almost, but not quite, compelling him to give the doctor his handkerchief to staunch the blood that's running from both nostrils. "Your diaphragm has contracted, hasn't it? Can't quite get your breath, can you? Here's something you don't know about me. I work out. I bench press more than three hundred pounds. I spend fifteen minutes on a speed bag and do a hundred pushups every day. Every day. Sometimes twice."

When Josh stops gasping, begins to breathe normally, and rolls over to get up, Castle does not offer to help. Instead, he resumes talking. His voice is low and icy. "I know exactly how to hurt someone without hurting him, or how to hurt him a little, or a lot. I know how to do it without leaving a mark, though today wasn't one of those times. You should be glad I didn't break your hands. That's what, fifty-four bones total? I'm sure one of your plastic surgeon buddies can fix your nose for you." He grabs the doorknob and turns it. "And don't even think about pressing charges. I have the security-cam footage of you coming after me yesterday in the hallway. Sets a precedent, you know? Conduct unbecoming a medical professional."

He has to get outside, get air, before he goes back to Beckett's room. There's a sign for an interior staircase just ahead of him, and he races down six flights to the ground floor. He doesn't stop until he's out of the building and around the back by the ambulance bay, where he slides to the ground, his back supported by the concrete wall, and puts his head between his knees.

"Sir, you all right?" An EMT has approached him. "Oh. Oh, Castle, isn't it? I'm Jackson. Sam Jackson. I was in the bus with you yesterday."

"Jackson," Castle says, looking up. "I remember you. Thanks. Thank you, Sam. I'm Rick."

"I heard your partner made it. She's gonna be okay. That's good. You don't look so good, though."

"I'm fine. Really. It just all kind of caught up with me, you know?"

"I do. You need a hand?"

"No. I'll be fine in a minute. Thanks. Thanks for saving Beckett. Thank you for bringing her back. Thank—uh, I'm sorry, I don't know your partner's name?"

"Rodriguez. Elena Rodriguez."

"Would you thank her too, please?

"Sure." He squeezes Castle's shoulder. "Just doing our job. Got lucky this time."

He's grateful that it's dark, so when he walks to a trash can in a sheltered area behind the building and throws up, no one sees him. Or maybe they do, and are nice enough not to mention it.

Beckett.

He has to go back to Beckett, right now. What if Josh is there? Nah, he won't be. Not a chance. He'll be busy getting his pretty boy face fixed. Jesus, he broke the guy's nose. He broke the guy's nose and he has no regrets. No remorse, either. He stops in the men's room off the hospital lobby to wash his face and hands. He's surprised that there's only a dull ache in his right hand, the one that connected with bone and cartilage, and crushed both. Anxious as he is to see Beckett, he has one call to make first. There's no one else in here, so he pulls up his favorites list and presses a name.

"Ryan? It's Castle."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm at the hospital. Been visiting Beckett. She's doing well. Listen, I've got a favor to ask."

"Anything."

"Off the books."

"Okay."

"Can you find out if there's a security camera in the hallway where we were yesterday? After they brought Beckett in?"

"Where we were all standing? There must be."

"Good. I told Doctor Motorcycle Boy I had footage of him taking a swing at me."

"What?"

"I'll explain later. It's, well, there's a possibility I might need it. Probably not, but let's just say it's my insurance policy. Think you can get it?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Thanks. I owe you, Ryan."

"No, you don't. You tried to take a bullet for Beckett. I owe you."

He's so touched by that that he has to compose himself before heading out, where he takes the elevator upstairs. It turns out that he needn't have rushed: she's asleep. He sits by her bed for a while, looking at her, marveling at her. Hearing a soft footfall, he looks up to find the night nurse beckoning him, so he tiptoes out.

"Mister Castle, I'm afraid visiting hours are over."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was this late. I had to step away for a few minutes." Step away and beat the crap out a member of the staff. "Is she all right? Did anyone come to see her while I was out?"

"Just the doctor."

Holy shit, the doctor. "Davidson?"

"No, Doctor Kovacs. Her surgeon."

"Right. Of course. I'm just going to leave her a note, then. Don't want her to think I abandoned her. I can leave it next to her bed, can't I?"

"Absolutely. And don't worry. I doubt she thought that you abandoned her."

He's pretty sure the nurse winked at him, but he doesn't ask. Instead, he thanks her and returns to Beckett's bed. Ever since he started his first novel he's kept a notebook and pen in his pocket, and he takes them out now. Should he apologize for arguing with Josh in front of her, or should he not bring it up? Better not. Keep it simple. Light. Even though this whole situation is the antithesis of simple and light.

Dear Beckett,

I wanted to stay, but apparently the hospital has some kind of ridiculous rule about patients needing peace and quiet at night. So I'll see you in the morning, or whenever you're ready for company.

X Castle

He considers starting over. Was it all right to put the X at the bottom? He thinks that X means hug and O means kiss, though everyone debates it. It's got to be fine to indicate a hug, right? Much less personal than a kiss. Friends hug each other all the time. And it's not as though he hasn't told her that he loves her, either, even if she doesn't remember it. She doesn't, does she? Wouldn't she have said? She didn't remember that he knocked her down in the cemetery, so why would she recall his declaration of love, a few seconds later? And he's kissed her, too, even if it was a fake kiss. Although if that was a fake kiss—the one they've still never talked about—it was a fake worthy of the world's greatest actors. He puts his fingers to his lips; he can still feel hers there, three months and twenty-six days later. "Stop it, you idiot."

The sound of his own voice startles him. Beckett moves slightly, too, and he can see her eyes move below her lids, but she settles down.

It's time to go. He tears the page out, folds it over, writes her name on it, and leaves it on her bedside table, anchored by a vase. The one holding his flowers. She has a ton of them. It looks like a florist's display case in here. Had she chosen to have his, out of all of them, right next to her?

All the way home his heart sings a little.

When he wakes up, he's stunned to see that it's almost 8:30. "Slept like the dead," he says a few minutes later when he catches sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. "Bad choice of words," he mumbles, and bows his head. "I need coffee." His head shoots up. Coffee! He'll make Beckett coffee! She can't drink that hospital swill.

But standing under 80 jets of warm water in his shower, he adjusts his thinking. She can't have caffeine. Forbidden after any kind of heart surgery. Wait. How about decaf? He'll make decaf. When he'd had trouble sleeping a few months ago, after their horrific plunge into the river, he'd finally found a really good blend. Not in a league with the real stuff, but remarkably good. The bag is still in his freezer.

An hour later, he's outside her room, waiting for the doctor to finish his exam. Kovacs doctor, not Davidson doctor. This decaf, which he has in a thermal cup, had seemed inspired, but he's suddenly nervous. Everyone in the hospital must know about Josh by now. He's going to have to tell Beckett. What if Davidson already has? Oh, God. But he was provoked, dammit. And once again, it was Josh who'd made the first move. Oh, here comes Kovacs.

"Good morning, doctor."

"Good morning, Mister Castle."

Thank you, God. Thank you. The surgeon smiled at him. "How's the patient today?"

"Why don't you see for yourself? I'm sure she'll appreciate the visit." He points to the shiny metal cups that Castle's holding. "What's that?"

"Decaf. For Beckett and me. I checked with the nurse. It's okay, isn't it?"

"Don't let her drink the whole thing. Half a cup, tops, and don't let her guzzle it."

"No guzzling, I promise."

"Okay then. I think that you and the coffee might be the best medicine. She was asking for both of you."

Kovacs chuckled. Actually chuckled. A surgeon. Wow. And she'd asked for him? Double wow. "Thanks."

"Morning, Beckett," he says, striding into her room.

"Morning." She's smiling, too.

"Brought you coffee. Decaf. And before you turn up your nose, let me tell you. It's tasty. Not great, but tasty. In a show of support, I made it for me, too."

"You're a good sport, Castle."

"Thanks." He puts the coffees on the wheeled table that's over her legs.

"I mean it."

He puts his hand lightly on her ankle. "Thank you." He has to say something before his shaky courage deserts him completely. "Listen, about last night."

"What about it?"

Shit, she's not going to make this easy. And why should she? "About Josh and me. Making a scene here. I apologize. I had no right."

"Neither did he."

"What?"

"He was out of line, Castle. Way out of line. I told him."

She told him? When had she told him? How was that possible? "You did?" He sounds so feeble.

"Yeah. Earlier this morning, when he stopped by."

"You saw him, then? Didn't just, you know, chat on the phone?" Chat? Get a grip. Chat. Geez.

"Oh, I saw him. He has a broken nose. Slipped on a step."

"He did? I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Besides, that's just what he told everyone else. He told me that you did it."

TBC

A/N Hope you're all having a good weekend.