Chapter 11

The parts from the metal box that they'd retrieved from the bank were in Houghton's back pocket. It would have been better if they didn't have to use them, but Houghton shrugged the thought away. She would do what she had to do, and if it was now, then it was now. The plans had long been set in motion, and there was a reason everything was culminating here.

She led Castle through the forest, and his audible sigh as Beckett's dad's cabin came into view was too loud. Not that she could fault him. She'd scrolled through Beckett's many memories of her summer alone in the cabin, and every one of them had been tainted by the hurt she knew she'd caused Castle by running from him.

"Shhh," she cautioned him as they tiptoed from the tree line to where the house provided cover. Weapons at the ready - one in each hand, because ambidexterity was a standard feature in model IIIs - she progressed steadily, willing her human partner to follow her lead and remain calm. She crept around the front wall, all the while flicking through her knowledge bank pertaining to the cabin. They were passing the two bedrooms, then the living room. Just ahead at the corner, before the gravel driveway, should be - yes - a cluster of trees (a memory flickered. Little Katie Beckett wrapping Christmas lights around them, her parents chuckling as they watched) that would provide some shelter before they needed to come out, guns blazing.

There he was.

The other Castle.

A flicker of something reared in her body, a wave of an unfamiliar electrical impulse stirring her. There was no time to analyze it though; her mission was clear. Save Richard Castle, and by extension, save Kate Beckett. The same flash pulsed through her again, and she shook her head, willing away the distraction. She was programmed to kill, and even if it was another III-47 before her, the mission came first, ahead of any kind of speciest loyalty.

The other Castle - in her mind she dubbed him III-47RC to avoid confusion - had ceased the firing that had torn Castle from his sleep, and her from her rest-state. No doubt inside the cabin the real Kate Beckett - there was that ping again, what was that? - was wide awake, sure the dragon had come for her.

III-47RC leaned against his car, and Houghton recognized the silver vehicle as belonging to Castle; she recalled one of the first occasions he'd driven her - not her, her, Beckett her, damn it - to the Hamptons. One of the first times he'd driven, period, when Beckett was anywhere within protesting distance.

She stepped forward, both guns already firing before she had even left the cover of the trees. Streaking through the air, the bullets bounced off III-47RC like she knew they would, but she advanced, intent on her target. Her vision shifted constantly as she kept his figure in focus, all the while scanning with her peripheral vision to make sure Castle remained under cover, and that Beckett was staying inside. The last thing she needed was her human charges becoming targets.

III-47RC fired too, and stepped toward her, his eyes narrowing as he brought her into focus. She saw the recognition when it hit him. "Not Katherine Beckett."

The knowledge that she wasn't his target wasn't enough to still his guns, and his fingers remained steady on the weapons in his hands. Two things happened, though, in quick progression, tearing their attention from one another.

Behind III-47RC, the trunk of the sedan popped open. Even in the low light, Houghton recognized the girl inside before Rick shouted, and darted out from his cover.

"Alexis!"

Houghton leaped at III-47RC, tackling him in an attempt to break his shooting frenzy, which was sure to be turned toward Castle or Alexis any moment now.

"In the house!" she commanded, struggling to pin III-47RC beneath her as Castle pulled his daughter from the trunk. He fumbled with the ropes that were tied around her hands and feet, and she cursed. "Dammit, Castle. Just carry her. Inside. Now!"

This time she appeared to get through to him, and he scooped his daughter up, running toward the cabin as she wrestled with his machine counterpart, attempting to keep grip on her own weapons while disarming him.

III-47RC was doing the same, still firing, even as he twisted beneath her, and in exasperation she tossed her own pieces aside, throwing them in the direction of the cabin; with any luck this wouldn't be a fatal error of judgment. Her hands now free, she was able to pin III-47RC more easily, shifting so she could wrestle him toward the trunk. Meanwhile, the bullets were still flying, and with Castle and Alexis temporarily safe in the cabin, his head turned, his attention now solely on her. But while he was intent upon firing directly at her - she grimaced as, in spite of her twisting, several made contact with her torso, another hitting her face - he appeared unaware of her master plan. She shoved him again, releasing him only to swoop down and pick him up, tossing him into the trunk and twisting the inside release latch before slamming the lid down.

She had, by her calculations, a head start of no more than ten seconds. Twenty if she was lucky, five if she was unlucky.

She ran into the house, ignoring the weapons on the ground as she pulled the other objects from her back pockets, setting them as she went.

2016? That was right, wasn't it? No telling what month would be better, and she scrolled rapidly, unable to decide on anything and letting the machine choose a date at random. If only this had been preprogrammed. Location was an easier choice; she didn't want to be at the cabin. If things didn't work out it would be too isolated, and the trek back to the city too dangerous.

Inside, she was met with a scene of chaos; Rick still struggled with the ropes that bound Alexis' limbs, and Kate hovered over them, stroking the girl's hair awkwardly and watching in horror.

The horror in her expression only grew as she met Houghton's eyes, and Houghton brushed away the feeling - not feeling, machines didn't have feelings, they didn't - of dismay at her human counterpart meeting her like this.

Not a single one of Beckett's memories gave any indication that she was half as open about the supernatural or other unexplained phenomena as Castle was.

There was no time to think, no time to explain, and Houghton set her database to find mode, recalling the location of everything she needed; the living room in the cabin was open plan and she strode into the dining area, pulling parts metallic from the kitchen drawers that, as far as Beckett had known, contained china and flatware.

She assembled the machine in record time, setting the final pieces - those from her pockets - in their place and firing it up.

"Over here," she ordered. "We all go together."

"Go… where?" Rick asked, having finally freed Alexis' hands, and she shook her head.

"Away. From Here. Let's go."

None of them moved, but it made no difference, ultimately. The circle was wide, and really, none of them needed to move. It would be better if she had time to explain, could let them know what they were about to be thrown into, but they weren't safe. Maybe if III-47RC had come alone, but with Alexis in the mix, Castle might as well be out of the game, and she couldn't take him alone. Not here, not now.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

The machine's lights flared brighter, the blue spark all-encompassing, and she shrugged, helpless to do anything but hope she was leading her mission to safety, not war.

The lights blinked, as bright as daylight now, three, two, one, and they were encircled in its range before everything went black.

If Beckett thought that waking after a surgery for a gunshot wound was surreal, it was nothing compared to being dragged from bed to the sound of weapons firing outside the cabin. Her safe place had been compromised, and she had reached for her own gun as she launched herself from her bed, her injuries forgotten as a combination of instinct and rage took over.

The dragon was not welcome here, and if she personally had to put a bullet in the brain of whoever was stupid enough to come in the dead of night, she would do so.

Let them come.

She might not be ready, not with the constant pull of the scar down the side of her ribcage, the way it hurt to move at anything faster than a walk, but she would get ready, and fast.

Moving to the window beside the front door, she'd peered out the curtains, taking as much care as she could to stay out of sight as she took in the situation as it unfolded outside. In the moonlight she couldn't make out faces but it looked like a woman was tackling a man, and then suddenly another man was pulling a slight figure from the trunk and barreling toward her. She'd recognized them as Castle and Alexis before he pounded on the door, and she unlatched it, letting them in and watching wordlessly as he flew past her, setting Alexis on the sofa and going to work on the ropes that bound his daughter's arms and legs.

"Castle?!" she'd asked, but he'd barely nodded in her direction, his face stony as he kept his attention on his daughter as he swore under his breath.

"Detective Beckett, I'm so sorry," Alexis had repeated, over and over, and she'd moved then, her confusion switching to autopilot as she made her way to the sofa, her hand reaching out and settling in Alexis' hair as the girl sobbed out her nonsensical apology. "Dad. I thought he was you, and I didn't mean to tell, but I was so scared."

"Shhh," Beckett had whispered, ice creeping into her veins at the sight of Castle's face, the raw fury frightening.

"Detective, I didn't mean to bring him here. I was just looking for Dad, and I knew he was with your sister." She sobbed, and Beckett frowned. Her sister? What the hell had happened to Alexis? And who had tricked her into thinking she had a sister?

"It's okay," she said, at a loss for what else she could say. "Castle. Castle! What's going on?"

He looked at her at last, and she watched as the rage dissolved, grief all over his face as he met her eyes with his own blue ones. In the low light his pupils were huge, framed by indigo, and she shuddered.

He was here.

She'd spent the last month dreaming of seeing him again, praying they'd be able to go back to what they had, maybe even become more.

A clandestine shootout in the dead of night at her father's cabin four hours away from the city had not been what she'd imagined, and if the look on his face had been anything to go by, it hadn't been his best case scenario either.

Then again, if Alexis had been kidnapped by the dragon - nothing made sense, but she was still a cop, and cops worked by putting all the pieces together until a picture emerged - there was probably nothing that could untangle this mess.

At least, that was what she'd thought before her own doppelgänger burst through the door, throwing the living room into further disarray as she assembled something, shouting at them to 'go!' before blue lights flashed and then everything went dark.

A/N: I love that so many of you are on board with this story! Thank you! And thanks of course to my crack beta-team, Kylie and Jamie! x