It was either really, really late when he finally turned the key in his front door, or very, very early, but whichever it was Rick felt half-dead on his feet, and not at all in the mood to be facing three irate women. Well, two irate women and an irate teenager. Okay, one irate woman, another who was trying to look irate under a pink padded sleep mask but was just managing to hide a yawn, and a very worried teenager.

"Are you okay?" Alexis asked, hurrying up to him and putting her arms around him.

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

His mother looked him up and down. "You don't appear to be bleeding from anywhere."

"No, I'm …" Realisation, struck, if a little slowly. "Someone called."

"Kevin Ryan," Martha acknowledged. "He said there'd been an incident and you'd gone to the hospital."

"And you didn't rush down there to hold my dying hand?"

"No. He said not to, that he'd ring with more information as soon as he had it." Martha raised one eyebrow. "He didn't."

"If I'd known he'd contacted you I'd have called myself. To let you know I was okay." He looked down into his daughter's face, seeing concern etched on her normally smooth forehead. "You know that, don't you?"

Alexis nodded, for once looking like the fifteen year old she was. "So what happened?"

"It was Kate. She –"

"Kate? Is she all right?"

"She's fine. I just drove her home. She refused to stay overnight for observation."

"What happened?"

Without even thinking of the reaction he might incur, Rick said, "We got shot at. Down in Greenwich, outside the –"

"Shot at?" His daughter's arms tightened on him.

"He missed, pretty much, so there's nothing to worry about."

"Rick, this is the limit," his mother said, obviously irritated that her night's sleep had been interrupted for no good reason. "If you're going to have these kind of adventures, I'm going to seriously have to think of finding somewhere else to live."

"Really?" He couldn't help the grin. "Is that all it's going to take?"

She glared at him then flounced off towards her room in a cloud of brightly coloured kimono and high-heeled slippers.

"Dad, don't tease," Alexis chided.

"Hey, she only said 'think'. Personally, I've got the feeling it's going to take a whole load of C4 to get her out of here."

Alexis smiled a little. "That's not fair. Probably right, but not fair. And are you sure Kate's going to be okay?"

"Mmn." He rested his chin on her head, remembering Detective Beckett sitting in the open back of the ambulance, an EMT wrapping gauze around the top of her left arm.

"I don't need to go to hospital," she said coldly, the air temperature dropping around her far more effectively than the freezing wind could possibly do.

"You have to," the young man said, courageous in the face of adversity. "A bullet wound has to be checked out, no matter how minor."

"It's a scratch. I've had worse shaving my legs."

Rick had stifled a laugh at that, and tried to keep his serious, concerned face on. Once he'd realised it couldn't even really be classed as a flesh wound, he'd gone back to his normal, irritating, wonderful self, and it was hard not to show his relief. "Kate, honey, you have to go. For me."

"Call me honey again and you'll be the one going to hospital."

"Ooh, can I have the siren going?"

The EMT swallowed back on a chuckle, bending quickly back to his work.

"Fine. Fine." Kate gave in with little if any grace. "But I don't have time for this."

The doctor in the emergency room hadn't faired much better, feeling the sharp edge of her tongue when he suggested she stay overnight. So much so that he'd got an innocent young intern to clean out the minor wound, and catch the ragged edges together with a half dozen tiny stitches. After a very carefully applied injection of antibiotics to squash the risk of any infection from the bullet passing through her clothing, Kate announced she was leaving.

No-one tried to stop her.

Now he smiled at Alexis. "She's fine. Honestly."

"Then why are you so late?"

"She insisted on going to the precinct and filling in a report. The doctor said she shouldn't drive, so I said I would." He shook his head. "If it were anyone normal, I'd say she was in shock. But seeing as she's Kate, and normal isn't exactly in her vocabulary …"

Alexis pinched him, and he made a face at her.

"Then I'd better go to bed. I've got school in the morning."

"I could always write you a note."

She let him go. "No, but thanks. I have a test I don't want to miss."

He looked into her eyes, his own narrowed speculatively. "You sure you're my daughter?"

"You'll have to take that up with Mom," Alexis said, kissing him on the cheek before heading back towards her room. "'Night, Maggie," she said to the woman still standing in the hallway.

"Goodnight." It was the first word Maggie has spoken since Rick arrived home.

He gazed at her, a rather self-satisfied smile on his face. "Well, here I am. They haven't managed to kill me yet."

Maggie didn't reply, just span on her heel and headed for the guest bedroom.

Unfortunately she wasn't fast enough for Rick to avoid seeing all the blood leave her face.

"Hey, hey," he called, following her, his good humour subsumed under concern. He managed to get his foot into the door as she slammed it closed. "Ow!"

"Go away," she said, sitting on the bed, her back to him.

"No." He hopped inside. "What the hell is it with women? First my nose, then my foot … are you trying to tell me something?"

"Yes. This is my bedroom. Get out."

"Well, it's my apartment, so technically, no, it's mine."

"Fine. Then I'll leave and we won't argue." She stood up, grabbing one of her bags and starting to thrust items inside.

"I thought you were going anyway. To the Park Central, if memory serves."

"They've still got my reservation." She looked around for her clothing.

He hobbled towards her, taking hold of her arms. "Maggie, don't."

"Leave me alone." She pulled herself free and strode out of the room.

"Maggie, for the love of …" He ran after her, ignoring the pain in his foot, and catching her up by the kitchen. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"So that's why you've worked yourself into a state, over nothing?" He could see she was blinking back tears, and that wasn't like Maggie. At least, not since he had to console her when Max died. But then, she had really loved that dog, and … "Come on," he said, taking hold of her arm and pulling her inside. "If we're going to fight I'd rather we did it someplace quiet where my mother won't be taking notes."

Maggie glared at him, but allowed him to move her away from prying ears. She knew she was making a fuss, but somehow couldn't seem to stop herself. "I'm all right," she said, following him. "And we're not going to fight."

"Good. I get enough of that elsewhere." He leaned on the counter. "So would you like to tell me what this is all about?" he asked, adding quickly, "Remembering that I'm a man, and as such pretty useless at understanding female motives."

She stared at him then turned away, muttering something.

"Sorry, Mags. Didn't quite catch that."

There was a pause, and he wasn't sure if she was going to answer, then she said, only a little louder, "I thought you were hurt. And I hadn't said goodbye."

He relaxed. "So just because you waltzed off leaving me high and dry at the precinct –"

She span back to face him, this time angry. "I did not leave you high and dry!"

"Felt like it."

"I … you … it …" She could hardly get her words out, but at least she wasn't on the verge of tears anymore.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked. "If you thought I'd been shot, why didn't you call?"

"I did!" She closed her eyes for a moment, taking back control. "I tried. A dozen times," she said, calmer and more evenly. "I couldn't get through."

Rick reached into his pocket. "I didn't switch it off, I know … Oh." He stared at his cellphone. The screen was cracked right across, and even though he pressed all the buttons, even shook it, holding it to his ear in case it had a dying message, there was nothing. "I guess falling on top of Kate wasn't quite as soft as I'd thought," he joked.

"You … fell on her?"

"Well, pushed her out of the way. Not that she needed it. She was already going down before I was, but … Hey, maybe chivalry isn't as dead and decaying as I'd thought."

"You mean you saved her life?"

"No. At least, not from the way she was swearing at me when she realised I'd rolled her into a puddle."

Maggie cracked a smile. "I hope you offered to get it dry-cleaned for her."

"Dry-cleaned, a replacement … whatever she wanted."

"Then I'm sure she's grateful."

"Not the word I'd have chosen." He held up the phone. "Maggie, it's broken. And I'm sorry." Taking a step closer, he dropped his head to the side so he could look into her face. "If I'd known Kevin had rung, I'd have made sure someone told you. Let you know I was okay. But, if I'm honest, I had no idea you'd react like this."

She hit him on the pad of his arm. "You're my best friend!"

He mouthed 'ow', rubbing at the spot. "And that means you can go around beating me up?"

"No, but it does mean you can't leave me thinking you're dead or dying!"

"Mags, I'm neither. I could be all literary and say we're all dying, in a sense, from the day we're born, but I won't. Mainly because I'd have to explain the bruises away. I said I'm sorry. Not quite sure what else to do about it. If I promise not to let it happen again, can we be friends again?" He held out his arms.

She glared at him, then walked into his embrace. "Bastard," she muttered.

"Now that's the Maggie I know and love." He half-smiled. "Look, I'm hungry. I haven't eaten since breakfast, and what with all that's going on … how about some eggs?"

She bridled, but only a little. "Food isn't the answer to everything."

"Depends on the question." He hugged her a little tighter. "I'll cook. Like I used to."

She looked up into his blue eyes. "Do you have bagels?"

"Of course." He let her go and walked to the range, taking a large saucepan from the cupboard above and turning the heat on under it. As he worked, he talked idly. "It's been a while since we did this, hasn't it?"

"A while," she agreed.

"I think Alexis was about three. You were in your first post-publication panic, and I was worrying about whether I could afford to be a house-husband."

"You were very good at it. Being a stay-at-home dad, I mean. Alex is a credit to you."

"Oh, you really have to say that when she's listening," he crowed, grinning as he opened the fridge and extracted a carton of eggs. "Especially when she's telling me how immature I am."

"Okay, I will. But I happen to agree with her."

He smiled at her over the open door, snagging the milk and closing it with his foot. "Want to help?"

"Sure. I'll beat the eggs."

"Makes a change from beating me, I guess." He narrowly avoided the whisk she threw at his head.

It didn't take long until the smell of toasting bagels filled the kitchen, and Maggie's mouth was beginning to water. Still, she tried to keep her mind on business. "This isn't right."

He stared at the pan. "Why? What've I left out?"

"No, not the eggs. I mean the murder."

"Mags, murder is never right."

She shook her head, jumping up to perch on the kitchen counter. "I don't mean that. I was thinking about it this evening, while I …" She stopped, not wanting to go there again. "Anyway, I came to the conclusion that it's all very clever. Too clever." She paused for a moment, getting her thoughts in order. "Stealing the diamonds, that device, the diversion … organised to perfection. Yet he strangles the first girl with his bare hands. That's an act of passion, no second thoughts."

She watched Rick butter the halved and toasted bagels, placing them carefully on each plate before scooping the scrambled egg into the middle. It was what they used to do late at night at college, then sit and talk until the sun came up. It made her feel oddly secure.

"Here." He handed her one with a fork.

"Thanks."

"And I agree with you." He tipped a little Worcester sauce on his, knowing she didn't like it so making the eggs without it. "But he knew what he was doing. She fought back, and he had to know she was no willing participant, even in the heat of the moment."

"And you still think it's that Merrick Canfield." She hoisted a large forkful of eggs into her mouth.

That was one of the many things he'd always liked about her. She didn't pick at a salad then claim she was full. She enjoyed her food properly, like a normal person. Filling his own fork, he chewed thoughtfully. "There's just something … and it's not just because he annoys me."

"Anything specific?"

"Not … " He stopped and gazed at her. "The truth is, I just don't see how he could be involved," he admitted. "He'd have to be two people." He briefly went over what he and Kate had learned from interviewing Dominic Tyler and Brock.

"Has Kate looked into cloning labs?"

He grunted a laugh. "Might be an idea." Jerking his head he added, "Come on."

Maggie jumped down from the counter and followed him on bare feet. Leading her to the living area, he slumped onto the couch, and she sat next to him, eating all the time.

"This is good," she said around another mouthful.

"Glad you approve." He grinned. "So, if it's not Canfield, who do you think did this?"

"Patterson."

A look of delighted surprise crossed his face. "What?"

"Jealous of my success." She grinned. "And the fact that I beat him at poker every time I'm in town."

"You know, if I suggest it, maybe Kate will arrest him."

"Just because his books sell well."

"Hey, so do mine! And the new Nikki Heat series is going to be even more successful than Derrick Storm was."

"Rick, about that character name …"

"No. No discussion."

She decided to change the subject. "How's your foot?"

"It'll be okay. Probably only minor surgery required." He grinned. "It's fine."

"Good. Can't have you hopping around after Detective Beckett. It's not dignified."

"Since when was I dignified?"

"Very true."

"See, you know me all too well." He nudged her gently and nodded towards the big flat screen TV. "Hey, want to watch porn?"

She laughed.

---

Kate lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling. Her neighbour, Greg, still had his music on, but at least had turned it right down, and it was just a low hum on the very edge of her hearing, somehow an appropriate accompaniment to a sleepless night.

She knew she'd let Castle get to her. Dragging her off to meet Brock like that, even though he was a nice man, if flirtatious. It hadn't helped, although something was nagging at her. Something Brock had said about Canfield damaging up his fingertips. Try as she might, she couldn't remember seeing cuts on his fingers when they interviewed him, and he was beginning to think she was going to have to ask Castle if he noticed. Canfield had held her hand, and she … no. It didn't matter how hard she concentrated, she really couldn't bring it to mind.

She tried to roll onto her side but winced. Her arm was aching, the stitches pulling each time she moved. The doctor had given her painkillers, but they weren't something she intended taking unless it was really necessary. It didn't matter if it was pills, gambling or alcohol … they were all addictions she couldn't afford to have, not with her family history. Seeing her father go through it the way he had … she'd rather have the pain.

Her mind replayed the events of the evening, walking out from the Blue Cat club with Castle, the way he was niggling at her, like he always did, then seeing the dull reflection from a gun sticking from the window of an approaching car. She was already reaching for her own weapon when he'd tackled her, taking her down, and she hadn't had the opportunity to do more than note the colour, possibly a Ford, maybe not, before she was on the ground, Castle's weight on top of her. His face had been very close, his hair flopping over his forehead in that way he had, his eyes an intense blue …

No. No. And no. She wasn't going to go down that path. She'd already trodden it with someone else, and as familiar as it might be, it only led to one place. No matter how concerned he'd been, staying with her throughout the hospital, then the precinct, insisting she wasn't in any kind of state to drive herself home, she wasn't going to start fantasising about Castle. Although that was quite sweet of him. For a change. And not one quip or sexual innuendo.

Probably saving all of them up for tomorrow.

She glanced at the clock, then at the window. The weather reports had mentioned it might snow, which might make the city look prettier, but not stop the crime. So far there was no sign, but it was still a few hours until dawn.

It was no good. There was no way she was going to get to sleep, not yet. Throwing the covers back, she swung her legs off the side and grabbed the dressing gown lying ready. Standing up, she shrugged into it, ignoring the burning along her bicep. She slid her feet into the waiting slippers, then walked quietly into the living room, only switching on the light next to the sofa. In the subdued gloom she could just make out the books lined up on the shelves, and her lips twitched. Might as well. A good a way as any to send her to sleep.

She lifted down Serpent's Tooth, by some obscure, middle of the line author named Richard Castle, and settled herself down, tucking her feet under her.

---

"You did what?" His face was rapidly reddening as he spoke into the cellphone. "Are you insane?"

The voice on the phone echoed back to him. "They were getting too close."

"Too …"

"They went to see Dominic Tyler, and then to the Blue Cat."

"So?"

"I didn't know what to do."

"So you let your temper get the better of you."

"I … yes. I'm sorry."

"Andrew, I told you to let me deal with it. You're too … emotional. It's how you got us into this mess in the first place. Now, leave everything else up to me. I'll handle it."

"But –"

"No buts. It's how we've always dealt with things, isn't it? I make the plans, you execute them."

"I know. And you're right."

"Good. Now, go to bed. And get rid of the gun first thing. You know full well they might be able to match the bullet to it if they find it."

"Where?"

"I don't know. We're on an island, surrounded by water. Use your imagination."

"Okay. No problem."

"And don't worry. They have no proof, none. The scrapbook is ashes, and they're looking in the wrong place."

"I know."

"Good night, Andrew."

"Good night, Merry."

There was a click in his ear, and the disposable cellphone was silent. Merrick Canfield stared at it, and sighed heavily.