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Chapter Twenty
Daybreak

Kate shivers. She hasn't been in an air-conditioned building in days, and they've got the newsroom set to morgue-standard temperatures. She tries to concentrate on the papers in front of her, the speech written in Castle's slanted capitals that is minutes away from being delivered to the world. Castle and his dad are getting food from the canteen, so she's alone. Less than twenty minutes ago, the three of them had arrived outside the towering skyscraper, climbing out of their cab directly into the waiting arms of two patrol cops on loan from the 12th. Now she's seven floors above Broadway, mentally preparing herself for what she's about to unleash.

Through the thick windows behind her the horizon is just starting to brighten. The sky turns into a dewy watercolor painting of pink and orange, and even though she knows the colors are from the haze of pollution hanging over the skyline, the sight makes her nostalgic. She's happy to be back in Manhattan.

On her other side is the bustling insanity of a New York City newsroom just before the morning broadcast. She's cocooned in a bubble of silence, separated from the rest of the floor by another wall of glass. There's too much glass. Kate instinctually rolls her chair to the corner of the room, putting a heavy metal filing cabinet between her and the outside world. Just in case. She has to live long enough to break this story.

Grayson Yates is on the prowl, pacing up and down a bank of desks and computers that reminds Kate of the command center at NASA. She let Castle do most of the talking during their meeting with the network exec. It hadn't lasted long, and after hearing their story, Yates burst out of his office barking orders. His employees have been fizzing every since. Every phone line is in use and fingers are flying over keyboards. They're doing some last minute digging on Joseph Madison before the impromptu press conference.

A few familiar faces guard the elevator doors, beat cops in their crisp navy blue uniforms, standing in solidarity for Detective Beckett and her partner. She knows that Kevin and Javier are downstairs on the street. They'd refused to take anything but the front line to protect their friends. There's no question in her mind that Madison knows exactly where they are, but hopefully he doesn't know what she's about to do, and if she can just get on the air and speak her piece, the world will crash down on him before he can get to her.

Castle slides into the office with a steaming cup of coffee and a plump cream cheese Danish on a napkin.

"Maybe we need to consider a career change. The buffet out there is seriously amazing, Beckett," he says around what she assumes is his last bite of a cherry Danish, if the smudge of pink on his lower lip is anything to go by. She stands and kisses the sweet stickiness away.

Castle stands there stupidly for a moment, letting Kate's tongue flick naughtily over the corner of his mouth, and then he sets the food down on the desk and pulls her roughly into him. But just as he's about to deepen their kiss, there's a perfunctory knock on the door. His dad bursts in without waiting for a response, pale-faced and more on edge than Castle's ever seen him.

"You're mother is in the building," he says. "And Alexis." In the cab ride over, Castle called a private security firm to pick the two women up and bring them to the studio. He doesn't want them finding out about everything on the morning news, and he just wants to be close to them now that he's home.

"I, uh, think I'd better make myself scarce," Hunt says. He doesn't wait for acknowledgement, just turns and leaves, disappearing neatly into the throng of journalists.

"Huh," Castle speculates. "Secret agent and ruthless assassin, yet mortally afraid of my mother. Can't say I blame him."

And then he sees the elevator doors slide open and his heart does a funny twirl in his chest.

Alexis bounds out of the elevator as soon as there's a gap wide enough for her to fit through, and then she runs full-force at her father. He's not exactly being slow about making his way across the room to her, either. Castle scoops her up and spins her around, and when he sets her down, she refuses to let go.

"Daddy," she whispers. "I love you, Daddy. I'm so glad - " she breaks off, burying her face in his shoulder, her body jerking with broken breaths. She's getting tears and drool all over him, but he doesn't care, because his eyes are pink and he can barely see through the blur of tears. He inhales the clean, green apple scent of his daughter's shampoo, then snuffles around until he finds the spot at the crown of her head where she'll always smell like a brand new infant to him. She doesn't even pull back to give him the teenage eye-roll, just clings tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Alexis, I'm so sorry. Forgive me." Castle looks up at his mother and sees a single tear tracking down through the makeup on her cheek. He's never seen her cry. Not even when Chet died. Well, except for onstage. He's seen her cry a lot onstage.

"Come here, Mother," he says, pulling her in so that they're sandwiching Alexis.

"Richard, I hope you're planning on telling us what on earth has been going on, but for now, I'll just say that I'm very, very glad that you're okay," Martha says, her voice husky. "And where is Katherine? Is she alright?"

Kate. Yes. She's part of this family too. He turns his head to find her watching from the office, a longing little smile on her face. He jerks his head, beckoning her over, and she comes to them nervously. After all, she'd advocated skipping town and keeping Alexis in the dark. They're both going to need forgiving.

Martha wraps her up in a perfumed hug before she can say anything.

"You brought him back. Bless you, Katherine, you brought him back to us."

Well, only after she helped him to run for several hundred miles in the other direction first. They'll have time to sit down and explain everything later, for now, they just need to heal, to be together and whole.

"Um, Mrs - Miss - uh, Beckett?" A bespectacled young man approaches shyly, clutching a clipboard to his chest. Castle's been on enough movie sets to recognize a brand new intern, and he doesn't blame the poor kid for being nervous about approaching his gorgeous partner. If he's stuttering now, when Kate's wearing a baggy sweatshirt and running low on sleep, he'd have no chance with a well-rested and well-dressed Beckett.

"Um, I've been sent to show you to hair and makeup? We're going live in twenty minutes."

"It's okay, I'll just go on like this," Kate says dismissively. "Thank you though."

"Um, Mr. Yates said you might say that, and he said to tell you that 'you're a politician now and that people will be judging you all the time,'" the kid relays nervously.

"Excuse me?" she bites out. "I've just been on the run for four days, after finding my fiancé's car on fire in a ditch, trying to hide from a power-hungry jackass who's too afraid to confront us himself. And I'm not a politician, I'm a cop, so no, I won't be getting glammed up for this."

Castle lays a friendly hand on the kid's shoulder and tries to diffuse the situation. "Detective Beckett just wants the public to know exactly what's happened to us over the past few days, to show how much we've been through to get here." He turns to Kate. "Do you need to use the bathroom or anything though? Run a hot washcloth over your eyes?"

God, he knows her. And she'd be pissed at him if a hot washcloth didn't sound like heaven right now. So she lets the intern lead her to the dressing rooms and leaves her partner to reconnect with his daughter.

Alexis is clinging. It's lovely, but they're minutes away from the broadcast, and as much as his daughter needs him, Kate needs him too.

"Sweetie, you should really get some breakfast, you look like you haven't been eating enough. Can you get me another strawberry Danish? I'm just going to go check on Kate," he says gently, bracing himself for an outburst. But Alexis just nods quietly and sniffles her way to the canteen, arm linked in Martha's. The two of them have always been close, but he can tell they're even closer now, after what the last few days have served them.

Castle picks his way through the bustle of journalists to find the quieter corridor of dressing rooms. Officer Hastings is standing guard over the main hallway.

"Officer Hastings, hi!" Castle shares a broad conspiratorial grin with her. He and Kate should really ask Ann and her boyfriend out on a double date. Writers and Muses. And he would be totally okay with it if Kate decided to become a masked vigilante. Hell, he'd help design her outfits.

"Hey, Castle, it's great to see you. I just talked to Detective Beckett and assured her that we've got the place on lockdown. Gates sent everyone she could spare, and it looks like she called in a favor with the 54th as well."

Something's just a little off about that statement, and Castle feels the creeping fingers of premonition inch up the back of his neck.

"What do you mean, the 54th? I only asked for officers from the 12th," Castle says.

"Oh, well, it's just that I don't recognize the guy by the stairwell," she says, nodding to the emergency exit door at the end of the hall, "or the woman guarding Beckett's dressing room around the corner. But don't worry, Castle, I'm sure Gates just called in a favor to get more uniforms."

But after all the ridiculous things that have happened to them, Castle is absolutely going to worry. He tries to toss a quick glance towards the man by the stairs, but he's obviously not subtle enough, because he's met with a hard, questioning look.

And then the man draws a gun and takes aim.

Directly at Castle's chest.

Dread settles thickly over his limbs. He's usually better in these situations, but for some reason, right now, he simply can't move. He's just so tired. And surprised. He thought they were safe. Almost safe.

As close as he's been to danger in the past few days, nothing has been as real as being two yards away from the bleak void he sees at the end of the man's gun. The air around him wavers and slows, and when the man switches his thumb over the safety catch and flexes his index finger to fire, Castle wonders if he has enough time to yell out stupidly that he loves Kate. His daughter. His mother. Instead he whispers to himself, they know. They know.

There's a sharp crack as flint meets steel, as spark meets gunpowder, and then everything goes silent.

Castle took a bullet to the vest last year, and he's surprised at how much softer the pressure is now that it's real. Muted. And then he falls heavily to the floor, and the lightbulb above him pulls into sharp focus, as if he's trying to hold on to every last detail.

The vacuum of silence erupts into chaotic noise, and Castle wonders why there isn't any pain yet. If there's no pain, does that mean he's already gone? How many more milliseconds will his brain last before it shuts down? But through the bending weave of sound, he hears his dad's voice, louder than everything else.

"Don't move, Rick."

Castle cranes his neck - should he be able to do that if he's almost dead? - and he realizes why the weight on his chest is soft and warm and painless. His father is laying across him.

"Dad? What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know, just saving your life. Again," Hunt grunts.

Castle snaps back to awareness, out of the surreal speculation of a near-death experience, and sees dark red liquid spreading slowly through the fabric of his father's shirt.

Holy shit. Did his father just take a bullet for him?

His father just took a bullet for him.

The way Castle tried to do for Beckett three years ago.

Hunt drops limply over his son's body. "I love you, son. Sorry I've been such an ass." He grimaces then waits for the next bullet to come.

It doesn't.

Castle raises his head slowly, looking cautiously over his father's shoulder. The man who shot him is still standing, staring blankly at them. Then he coughs once and a fine mist of blood sprays through the air. He crumples and falls forwards.

His first thought is Kate. He didn't hear a second gunshot, but he was a little busy getting sentimental with his dad. She must have come out of her dressing room and shot the guy.

A woman's hand wraps around Hunt's bicep and starts to pull him up. It's not Kate. It's the other unfamiliar beat cop, the one who was guarding Beckett's door. Hunt sees her and … smiles?

"Dad, no, she's in on it too." Castle panics, tugging on his father's other arm, eliciting a heavy groan of pain.

"No, she's not." He nods weakly at the weapon in the woman's hand, its muzzle elongated by a graceful silencer. She's the one who saved their lives.

"Castle? Are you hurt?" Kate yells out, voice rough with the kind of panic he only hears when he's in danger. Castle rolls out from under his dad and sees Kate's gun peeking around the corner.

"I'm okay. You can come out, I think. Keep your gun on the woman though. Just in case."

Beckett sidesteps out into the hallway, gun trained on her target, taking in the situation. Judging by the noise coming from the newsroom, no one has figured out where the shots were fired yet, but they will soon.

The woman with the silencer must be thinking the same thing. "J, we need to leave. Now."

Castle just loses it then. He fires a line of questions at his dad. "J? Is that short for Jackson? Who the hell is this woman? Do you know everyone?"

"Not everyone. Not him," Hunt says, gesturing to the lifeless body sprawled on the floor. "But Julianne, yeah, I know."

"Now. Come on, J," the woman warns. She's not exactly beautiful, but she's impressive, and she looks foreign, Eastern European maybe. Not a trace of an accent, though. When she helps his father up, Castle thinks he sees a certain familiarity between them. Something he used to daydream about seeing between his dad and mom.

"Wait," Castle blurts. His father is about to disappear again, just like he has twice before, and even though he expected it this time, it's still painful.

"Dad, you need a hospital."

"Bullet's in my shoulder, luckily. Julianne's an expert at getting them out. I'll live," he smiles.

"Will we see you again?" Castle asks weakly.

"I hope so. I'll get settled and let you know when you can come visit. Now, get this story on the air as soon as you can."

Julianne helps him limp down the hallway. Just before they disappear into the stairwell, Hunt looks back at them and winks.

Kate slides stiffly into one of the two chairs that have been set up in front of a long white table. They're in the sports press conference room, and there's a row of microphones in front of her. Everything is starkly white.

Castle sits down beside her and slides his palm over her thigh. She reaches for the glass of water that's been placed in front of her, and he notices that her fingers are twitching. She's so brave for doing this, even though she hates being on camera.

The room buzzes with journalists. They greet one another cordially, shaking hands and taking seats, setting up their own recording devices, and staring curiously at Castle and Beckett. Yates invited reporters from every other major news station. He'll be the first to break the live feed with video, then they'll go back to their own stations to do their own follow-ups.

And then suddenly the room is full, and everyone is sitting down, waiting patiently. It's almost time. The floor manager comes over to them and asks them if they're okay, then scuttles off behind the camera line to countdown. "We're live in five … four …" then she holds up three fingers, then two, then one.

Kate stares silently into the camera for a moment. Somewhere, Joseph Madison is watching, and she hopes he feels like the ceiling is collapsing on him.

Courage gathers in her like a brewing storm. She sits a little straighter and begins to speak.

"I am Detective Kate Beckett. For the past four days, I have been considered a missing person. Four days ago, my partner Richard Castle was declared dead in what was reported as a tragic accident. On my wedding day, I found his car - my fiancé's car - burning in a ditch. As you can see, he is actually alive, by no small amount of effort on our parts. We've been on the run trying to hide from the person who wanted so desperately to end his life."

"Just minutes ago, another attempt was made on Castle's life, in this very news studio, so before another bullet is fired, I will tell you that the name of the person who has sent assassin after assassin after us is called Joseph Madison. In the coming days, I'm sure Mr. Madison will say any number of things to refute my claims, but I have documents and recordings that prove a handful of his many crimes, all of which have been copied, vaulted, and will be aired live to the nation in the next few minutes.

"If Mr. Castle or I, or any of our family members, disappear or die from seemingly natural circumstances later this week, month, or year, please turn your attention onto Joseph Madison and his subordinates.

"For those of you wondering what a novelist could have possibly done to anger Mr. Madison, in this instance it was simply writing the next Nikki Heat book, which has some fictionalized speculation about corruption in government. Just a few weeks ago, Senator William Bracken was arrested for murdering my mother, amongst many other crimes. I thought that Bracken was acting alone, and that by incarcerating him, Washington would be a safer and more just place. We now have intelligence that Mr. Madison is linked to Bracken, and that there are many more like him holding public office.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm living in a television show, because this kind of unprovoked violence is something that I didn't think happened in the real world. As many of you know, I'm a homicide detective with the 12th precinct, and I have no delusions as to the potential darkness of human nature. But in homicide, we can fairly reliably attribute murders to a handful of motives - money, love, the need to cover up another crime, or, rarely, mental instability. The idea of doing something for power is the motivation you'd expect to find in a comic book villain, but apparently it's something that is becoming an increasingly dangerous problem in our own government.

"So that's why I have decided to hang up my badge. Solving homicides has been my life for the last decade, but if I can make a difference elsewhere, if I can root out all who have been involved in Madison's crimes, every politician who has ordered a hit to get someone out of their way into office, I will happily take up that mantel.

"I realize that in doing this, I've probably severely shortened my life expectancy, but these people cannot continue to operate in the shadows. The only thing that can keep my family safe now is sharing our knowledge with every citizen of this country. I hope you'll agree with me in the opinion that killing innocent people is wrong. I hope you'll support me in my endeavor to end this. I have some ideas about how to correct the injustices, and you'll be hearing from me again in the coming days, but for now I'll turn it over to the staff here to explain the situation more clearly than I can. Thank you."

The room erupts with flashes of light and applause.

Beckett is dizzy with it.

The following weeks will be the hardest ones of her life. But beside her, beaming with pride, is a great, good, generous man, who understands exactly why she needs to do this. Who wants to do this with her. And that's more than she could have ever asked for.

He leans over and whispers a question into her ear after the room full of journalists have asked theirs.

"Katherine Beckett, will you marry me tonight?"

She nods, because it feels more right than it ever has. The little girl inside her that used to sneak into her mother's closet to try on her white satin peep-toe heels radiates with light.

And just before midnight, in the mahogany-walled office of Mayor Robert Weldon, she finally marries Richard Castle.

Epilogue to follow.