A mere 12 hours after she sat on the swings in a storm the rain again fell from the heavens. The wiper blades from the Hummer beat a steady tempo that meshed with the thrum of their heartbeats. Castle navigated into a spot a block away from the entrance to the main branch of the New York public library. Traffic was light so they still had a few extra minutes until high noon. They agreed on the plan during their transit, now the wait seemed like the hardest part. Unseen forces were playing out and the duo was in a holding pattern.

Castle's instinct was to crowd her, embrace her, express his support physically, but the past predicted she wanted space. Suddenly he was second guessing himself and hating that he kept giving her little choices to keep her from feeling like her life was spiraling out of control.

She cut off his mental gymnastics, "So, you couldn't afford to park the Hummer in Manhattan that's why you used a garage in Brooklyn. Of course you were so embarrassed by that you registered it in an alias." She threw in an eye roll for full effect trying desperately to hide her reliance on 4 years of banter.

Castle rose to the bait and played his part, "Hey, it is part of my brilliant strategic plan to have transportation available once we're off the island of Manhattan."

"How are you getting off the island?" she teased. "Wait, you have an inflatable rubber dingy in storage…"

"Hey, that's a good idea! I am betting water taxis or ferry boats will still be working. I'll have you know this is well thought out plan." He was a little nervous to show her just how far he took things…

"Confess, Castle. You wanted a Hummer because they're butch. You invented a reason to own one by claiming to have a contingency plan in case of another 9/11."

He opted to keep it light. "Alright, you know me too well. Actually I bought a Hummer because we needed a vehicle with a lot of space for luggage when we go to the Hampton's, but their reputation is so environmentally unfriendly that Alexis refused to let us use it."

"Just how many suitcases do you pack compared to your teenage daughter or diva mother?"

"Now you're being mean, Beckett." He pretended to pout. "You try packing for an entire summer." His mind supplied an image of Kate on the beach, in a bikini, nothing else to wear. Her naked image was burned into his mind, the fantasies paled in comparison to the carnal bliss that was simply the best lover he'd ever had.

"Hey Rook, stop fantasizing. It's raining and we're in the middle of the city." The sultry low tone belied the message.

He leered at her. She was wearing the black trench coat from Derrick Storm's office to hide the bulge from the Glock and give her some cover from the cold gray elements. All he could see was a day when she wore nothing under the trench coat and he unfastened the buttons, one by one, exposing her lithe body for his pleasure. He'd…"

"Rick, it's time for me to go."

That snapped him back faster than if she'd slapped him for his erotic thoughts. Please don't let her run; please don't let this be a setup; please don't let this push her over the edge. He pleaded with the gods above silently, but his thoughts might have leaked out.

She answered with her lips on his. Kate poured every last ounce of reassurance into the exchange praying it was enough to carry them both through. Their castle, the fortress of their newfound love, was under siege.

Suddenly he regretted agreeing to be the get away driver in case she needed a quick exit. "Kate, I'll double park right out front and come with you."

"We don't have time to rehash this. You agreed. We both think the message came from Smith. As long as my cell phone transmissions aren't monitored, the gunman shouldn't be here. We've been too careful to be followed. Trust that this round goes to the good guys."

"Since when do you trust unseen forces?" ask the man about to lose contact with her for the first time since their coupling.

"Since I chose you." She leveled him with the emotions behind her eyes and gently shoved Rick back into the driver's seat. Kate left the warmth of his presence, his car, and glanced up into the gray skies. The raindrops threatened to morph her back into the confused woman sitting alone on a swing in a rainstorm. Each and every one of those pelts of cold water tested her resolve, her choice. She pulled Derrick Storm's coat around her and swiveled her head ever vigilant of the lurking evil.

A church bell began to toll as she reached the imposing steps of the depository of knowledge. The steady rain hurried all other pedestrians along. She jogged up; a lioness locked on the lion, willing the stone cold statue to reveal her fate. The monument dripped with clear liquid like blood falling from heaven of too many ghosts chained to the dragon's purgatory. So many souls were embroiled and Kate felt them watching this encounter. She stopped before the huge edifice and tore her eyes away from the empty blank stare of the animal frozen for all eternity.

Beckett scanned the area, alerting on the other lion, Patience. A guy, an employee from the looks of the badge, was fighting his own battle to smoke a cigarette despite the wet weather. He was hampered by one arm with a stranglehold on a flat white shipping box in a clear plastic bag. As the tone from the twelfth bell died away, the young man looked up and locked his gaze on Kate.

As he crossed the distance she scanned him for threats. His messenger bag was slung over a shoulder and was bulky enough to hide a weapon. Still, the gait and demeanor of this person was not of aggression, but perhaps agitation. She locked on his eyes and completed the assessment: despite the rivers of water snaking over his hair and down his face, the streaks of tears were still visible. Kate Beckett knew instantly she was looking into the soul of another walking wounded victim of the dragon.

Quickly she read the NYPL employee badge and found his name: Murray, Donald B. -son of the document clerk stabbed in the same pattern as Johanna Beckett.

His voice was quiet, broken and Kate barely heard the words. "I know you from the picture in the file. Hell, I know you better than I know myself. I've read everything about you. You were 19; I was only 14. You lost your mom; I lost my dad. Your father crawled into a bottle; my mother turned to drugs. You saved your father but I wasn't strong enough to save my mother. She overdosed on the second anniversary of his death. You know how hard those days are."

The carnage was so much greater than what appeared on paper. The guilt on his face wrenched her gut. She gave the kindred spirit what solace she could, "You were just a kid. You managed to shield your little sister from the worst of it and kept you guys together. Last time I checked up on you both, I noted she enlisted in the military and became a medic."

He nodded, soothed by her empathy. "I'm a documents clerk like my dad except he worked in the legal field and I work antiquities." His words trailed off. She already knew this stuff. "What you don't know is that Mr. Smith contacted me last summer..." Donny paused again, unsure how to express his regrets about how the detective spent last summer.

Beckett waved it off.

"Um, Like I said I'm a rare documents clerk. I restore old books and maintain the collection in an environmentally sealed, fireproof, secure room that makes bank vaults look sloppy by comparison." He stumbled trying to make his story relevant as they stood in the rain on the steps of a public library. "Anyway, this guy, Smith, laid out the gritty details and asked if I would keep the original police files. It seemed fitting that the records from the NYPD would end up at the NYPL to document the history of a public figure, a wolf in sheep's clothing. I dunno; it just appealed to me."

Kate smiled because it would appeal to Castle just as much. She didn't want to hurry the young man along, but she didn't want to stay exposed for much longer. She gave him a brief nod to continue.

"Yeah, so I not only stored them, but I made archival quality copies that are so close to the originals that a layman won't be able to tell the difference. Mr. Smith took the copies and I kept the Montgomery set in rare documents vault. He also sent me updates on stuff he gathered about this guy and his network. I even researched a few things on my own and put them in the files but Mr. Smith warned me - made me promise - that if he was killed the files went to you or the press, but to get them out of my possession."

"Smith is dead? How do you know?" Beckett wasn't surprised, but she was panicked at the implications.

Donny shoved the box unceremoniously into Kate's hands and dug into his wet jeans. He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled for the text. A fresh set of tears rolled down his face as he shared the news with his compatriot. "I'm joining your parents. Meet KB noon Fortitude or Post it. Stay strong…"

The final words from the latest victim of the dragon.

Kate felt a brief sting of her own heart. She needed a second to compose herself so she glanced at the address on the box. It was going to the Washington Post Newspaper. If precedent was any indication, their investigative reporters could take down a President so it was a reasonable gambit to let them have a try at a Senator.

She couldn't promise Donny which way she'd play her part, all she could do was release him from his role. "I've got this. My first goal is to keep anyone else from dying." Including myself. She cast about for a parting thought that wasn't a platitude. "Hey, you've…"

He cut her off. "I work in a library. You work with a writer. I'm a secondary character; you're the protagonist. Don't let the author pen a tragedy; I want an epic tale where the hero slays the dragon." With those parting words he ambled away.

Kate turned her eyes down to the street where her chariot awaited in the form of a black Hummer, driven by the prince disguised as a Jester. Her grip tightened on her sword, a box of papers able to cut a giant down to size, and she flew down the steps to begin her quest.