A/N: Oh dearies! (OUAT reference, yes. I'm a big fan of that show, too) Thank you thank you for the wonderful feedbacks! Really helped with the first day of class jitters.

I've been reading Richard Castle's HEAT RISES and it got me really thinking. It's a very good read, even more painful when you watch the show.

Again, thank you for the support and I hope you like this chapter. It's kind of my way of helping you see how I see Thomas Krauss. Yes, in my mind, Chris Pine.

One more thing! If you wish to have a playlist companion to this fanfic, I strongly recommend the songs I quote in the beginning of the chapters. Good songs. Painful songs.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

CHAPTER XII

I still feel the hope in your kisses

I still feel the sun on your skin

I swear I was holdin' forever back then

Do you remember?

Do you remember?

Do You Remember, Blake Shelton

His heart didn't stop racing long after he got out of the paramedic van. Tom was lucky to get only shallow scratches from the shattered glass when the bullets hit. He liked to think Kate got lucky, too; despite the bullet that pierced her arm. CSU's official shot count rounded up to thirty. Thirty bullets they had both so blindly dodged. Trajectory confirmed it came from the rooftop from an old motel building across the street. Security cameras were turned off—as expected—the moments leading to, and after the shoot-out. The guy from the motel, Michael Andreas, ID'd positive by the waitress on the other side of the street, didn't give him much hope. Not that he depended on hope. Tom was trained to depend on his training at the FBI, his sniper skills from the military, and his brilliant mind. But when you're stuck in the middle of an ambush, tactical training, sniper skills and brilliant mind almost always came second to a human instinct—hope; hope to survive this ordeal and make it another day.

The Medical Examiner confirmed presence of gunpowder on the shooter's blue hoodie, and two rifles were found stacked in the closet, the other rifle full of Andreas' fingerprints, the other completely cleaned. It almost felt like it was all but a freaky stage show, and it infuriated him more than any other.

Night fell, and he stood by the vanity mirror of his hotel room, his torso bare, taking in the long scratch than ran through his collar bone up across his shoulder. This one was old as time. The scar that made him the man he turned to be. His face had smaller red spots, and Tom traced each one of it with his finger. He drew a deep breath, the soreness of his muscles winning him over; the day's stress pulling him to bed.

But it wasn't so much the physical pain that wore him down. It was the realization that he almost lost the woman he never had in the first place. He'd be lying if he said he didn't perform a background check on Kate Beckett when she first worked for the FBI. Her mother's murder struck him most, because he lost his father the same day he got the big ugly scar. He found out about the writer who shadowed her for five years, and to hell with research. His instincts told him she had been in a relationship with the writer, and her heart never left New York. But he fell in love with her, nevertheless.

Then came the knock he expected. He threw a clean shirt over his head, and rushed to the door, peeking through the small hole, just to be sure. He held his gun close to his side, ready for any surprises. At ease with what he saw, Tom unlatched the locks and turned the knob.

"What the hell?" the woman swooped in, in an aura that intimidated even the sharpest FBI agents in town. But not Tom. Tonight wasn't about intimidation. It was about betrayal. She was about 5 foot and a half tall, brown hair tucked underneath a baseball cap, green eyes partially screened by tinted aviators. "You know big boss isn't so happy with what you did, Krauss."

"I'm not very pleased at the Boss, too." He looked to the direction of the logo on her leather jacket; an eagle with its wings spread on both sides.

"This is not a joke." She kept a straight face. Tom didn't spare her a smile.

"To hell with that." Tom shot back, "What was that all about, huh? That wasn't part of the plan, E. We almost died in there!"

"Oh, boo, boo," the woman teased, in a way that got Tom's blood to boiling point. "Don't be such a baby, Krauss. You know very well the boss won't kill you. Not you, at least."

"No, no…" Tom walked ahead of her and held her by the shoulder. A gesture she was quick to shrug off. "Kate Beckett will not be harmed, you understand?"

The woman's face only stiffened. Tom could see flames of hatred from her calm, green iris. "I'm afraid it's not up to you to decide, Krauss."

Tom wasn't the kind of man to get physical on a woman, and guilt ate away at him when she hit her hip on the edge of the table when he shoved her back to the hallway. "In that case, I am out, E. Tell that to your boss. Katherine Beckett is under my protection." He paused, letting his words sink in on both of them. "You hear that?"

The woman gave a sly smirk. A smirk that told him he wasn't going to be safe from this day on. "Message sent, Krauss."

He'd take a bullet for Kate Beckett. He knew how stupid of a move it was to protect someone who didn't even see him as a person besides the FBI agent part of him. But if it had to be his last stand, he'd be pleased to do just that.

Tom shut the door in front of him, counting the days—if not hours—he had to live.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Castle couldn't tell how long he had been sitting at her feet, watching her as she slept through the medication. He couldn't keep his mind off of the things she said, doubting the decisions he had made in her absence. Kate came back for him. She thought she had a relationship to come home to, and Castle didn't blame her—didn't regard her as selfish. He would've thought the same if the circumstances were different. To hell with circumstances. He would've thrown himself at her the moment she got off of the plane from D.C. The old Castle would have still chased her, no matter what. But there was something inside him that tugged him back. Of course, it was his new and refreshing relationship with the woman who meant the world to him. Stefanie's this, and that, and all jazz. But Kate; Kate and her big, green eyes, Kate and her soft, soft, brown locks, Kate and her beautiful smile, Kate and her fat heart, Kate and…NO. Stefanie. He should be thinking of Stefanie.

The doors unlocked—about time Lanie came home. The smell of garlic chicken filled the room, and he followed the aroma to the living area. Lanie gave him a glance, before pulling out one carton of chicken from the bag. "You're still here, Castle?" she asked, surprise imminent on her features. "I'm sorry, I didn't buy extra dinner."

He mimicked a sad kid face, earning a glare from Lanie.

"Well, seriously, writer. You're still here." Lanie repeated, this time, a little more serious than the last.

"I thought Beckett could use company; she's napping in the room. Temperature's fine, and the stitches look OK." He replied, avoiding the question hidden in subtext.

Lanie sighed. "Castle, with all that's been going on—and I don't mean the shooting—the last thing that poor girl could use is false hope. I know you care for her; I do." She inched closer, and looked at him straight in the eye. "Don't tell Kate I told you this. She's hurt. She's been crying a river over the things she lost when she decided to take the job she didn't get to love."

Castle opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off again. "—I'm just saying, I know she hurt you. But you turned out alright with that new girl of yours…" she hinted sarcasm, and hoped Castle missed it, then continued, "I'm saying she broke her heart. And unless you want her back, having you around won't help her move on."

He let the weight of Lanie's words sink in. It pained him more than anything, to learn how much pain he caused her. Castle wanted her to be happy. Kate broke his heart when she turned him down, but he never wanted for her to be as miserable as she made him.

And Lanie was right. If he really wanted Kate to move on, he'd have to stay away.

"I'm sorry, Castle." She said, a little softer now.

"No, I, I think you're right, Lanie." He nodded, and grabbed his coat that flopped on the kitchen island. He hugged Lanie goodbye, and she hugged him back, then he motioned to the front door. "Tell her I'd be up at The Hamptons for a few days."

"I will, Castle. Have fun out there."

Fun? Good luck with that fun after learning that the woman he'd been in love with was still in love with him. He had a box of video games to distract him; but then that would just remind him of Kate, and the way she seduced him into getting his hands off of the console. He could always write. And channel surf.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

If he stared long enough at the white board, maybe something will speak to him. The FBI toys didn't work for him. Esposito always preferred old school; traditional. Sometimes, when the bullpen was quiet, and he focused enough, he could almost see the pieces of a big puzzle fit. But not right now. The pieces weren't ready yet. There were still a lot of missing pieces to find.

"Hey, bro…" he called out to Ryan, idle with a cup of coffee at his desk. He soon heard footsteps coming his way. "Where did Jed Hudson work as a lawyer?"

Ryan flipped through the case file ad ran his finger on the paper. "Tollen and Tollen. Why? We already interrogated the employees. Most suits didn't even talk to the guy. Said 'he kept to himself' and 'good with his job', nothing out of the ordinary."

"And the four other?"

"Tollen and Tollen, too. Same as Hudson." Ryan pointed. "No connection other than the Finn Taylor case—the only case the five all worked on. So ten bucks says Tabitha Draughty has something to do with the deaths—lawyers and detectives. And the shoot-out too, I bet."

"FBI's still running financials. She could have paid someone to do the job. Draughty has what—a dozen bank accounts, not including the close kin."

"Javi, let's call it a night. We'll get on it in the morning."

He shook his head. The woman from the shoot-out was yet to be identified. Connections were all but a blur. Beckett was injured. Their own lives could very well be in danger. Sleep was the last thing that came into his mind.

"You go ahead, bro. Think I'll stay for a bit."

Ryan nodded. He knew better then to test the soldier in Esposito. He, on the other hand, was more than happy to close the day with his wife and baby boy.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

"Hey, don't you have vacation days left?" Castle asked Stefanie, who was snuggled close into his chest, one arm across his waist. Her hair gave off a hint of vanilla, refreshing as always.

She looked up, confusion written in her eyes. "Yeah, why?"

"I was thinking…" More like he thought of it when Lanie told him all those things about Kate, "…I was thinking we could go to The Hamptons. Maybe I'd get an inspiration for a new novel."

"Hmm," she sat up, cross-legged beside him. "I think I can make a call. When do we leave, though?"

"Tomorrow?" Castle answered in haste, taking Stefanie by surprise. But she only smiled and nodded. He smiled along, took the baseball cap that had been sitting on the coffee table, and set it on her head. "Looks good on you."

She smirked. "Yeah, well. You have a great taste. That's why I love you."

Castle opened his mouth to return the words, but it ended up lodged deep in his throat. For the first time in their relationship, he hesitated telling the magic words. Stefanie eyed him, hinting at his hesitation. So Castle leaned forward, and closed the distance between their lips, hoping to act on the words at the tip of his tongue. It turned to a heated kiss, and only pulled apart when air became of need. And, just like oil to a machine, he said,

"I love you."

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Thoughts? I hope you don't hate me after this, though?

So, my classes are back. I know, it sucks. That means I'll have less time for writing chapters. I'll do my best to keep you on track, but I can't promise quicker updates.

Send me in suggestions.

Reviews! The support is amazing, guys. I love you so freaking much!