A/N - As Promised.

Enjoy

~GeekMom

Breaching The Castle

Chapter 21

Occlusions

Beckett looked at her watch for the hundredth time that morning, or so it seemed. She, Esposito, Ryan, and Gates had been summoned to the Sheriff's office in Kingston at eight the next morning at the behest of Commandant Woolford, who was acting as secretary to Walter Hoade, the investigator assigned by the SAG to take their statements. They were being seen individually and two hours later, only Esposito had finished. Gates had gone to see Callis while she waited and Ryan was interviewed.

She looked up from her wrist to the bemused face of her partner. "What is it Espo?"

"Nothing," he grinned openly. He looked back down at the outdated Arms and Ammo magazine and absently flipped through the pages.

"Really?"

"It's just that you have definitely picked up some of Castle's characteristics."

"You are out of your mind."

"No, seriously," he said through a smile.

Beckett pursed her lips impatiently.

He counted on his fingers. "How many times have you looked at your watch? You're jiggling your leg; you've never done that B.C., you're running your hand through your hair every ten seconds and I swear you've reached for your phone seven times." He conceitedly grinned. "You look like an apprehensive witness. Maybe one who may be hiding something?"

She inhaled and looked at her watch. Esposito chuckled. Kate stood and paced. Castle never paced; he bounced, spun, danced and indeed he jiggled, but she'd never seen him pace. She reached the wall and turned. Esposito wore a broad smile while he deliberately ignored her. She stuck her tongue out at him and he responded by pursing his lips and shaking his head.

The conference room door opened and Ryan emerged with Hoade directly behind him. He shook Ryan's hand and said, "Thank you again, detective." He turned to Beckett and smiled. "Detective Beckett, I'll just be a moment and then we can get started."

Beckett turned to her boys. "What are you going to do?"

Ryan and Espo traded a look. Espo grinned again. "We're going to visit Castle because you're stuck here…"

"And he's all alone," Ryan finished. They punctuated their assertion with a subdued and horizontal high five.

Esposito and Ryan arrived at the hospital shortly before eleven, having stopped at a coffee house for breakfast for them and contraband in the form of a large caramel cappuccino and a bear claw for Castle.

"Aw, son of a…" Castle moaned hoarsely followed by a coughing fit. Ryan and Espo exchanged looks. They weren't sure what they would find on the other side of the door.

"No, no, no! Get it! Faster, faster would be better! Damn."

They poked their heads in the partially open door cautiously. Castle was sitting up with a laptop open in front of him, wearing the hospital gown and a pair of headphones. All of his attention focused on the screen in front of him. Ryan waved which caught Castle's attention. He held up his index finger and smiled.

"Anatoliy, no, yeah right. Hey Toley, I have to go man. Yeah, you wish. Dosvedanya." He took off the headphones and smiled. "Hey guys," he greeted.

"You sound better Castle," Ryan said as he handed Castle his coffee. Castle took off the top and inhaled the aroma through his bandages.

Espo slipped him the bear claw after making a big show to see if the coast was clear. "Dude, where did you get the laptop?"

Ryan frowned. "I thought we collected yours back at the hotel."

"You did? Thanks. I bribed a pretty nurse for this one," Rick said rubbing the back of the computer. He was delighted. After obligatory fist bumps, he said through a mouth full of pastry, "You guys are the best." He swallowed, wincing, but then took another bite. He savored that one, letting the flaky tartlet melt in his mouth. He swallowed with difficulty again before he spoke. "They served runny scrambled eggs and this grey stuff that was supposed to be no fat, no sodium bacon. I ate the toast."

"So, how are you doing, Castle?" Espo asked as he tore an icing swathed corner off the bear claw. He pulled up the mustard yellow vinyl covered chair, plopped into it causing it to emit a rude whoopee cushion sound. Espo, delighted, chortled, and popped the stolen confection into his mouth. He grinned at the miffed writer.

"Besides hungry, I'm fine," and then loudly he said, "They need to let me get out of here." He grimaced and rubbed his throat. He shrugged. "It hurts, but I just want to move on, you know?"

"How about all of this?" Ryan asked making a circular motion around his own contorted face while squinting at Castle's.

"Nothing permanent," he grinned, "Butches me up though, right?"

Espo shook his head and muttered, "Jackass."

Castle smiled more widely, taking the insult as a compliment from his friend. "Yeah. Where's Beckett?"

Ryan looked at his watch. "Damn. Seven minutes," he said as he reached for his wallet, opened it, and slapped a twenty in Esposito's palm.

"What?" Castle asked while watching the transaction.

"Doofus here bet that you could go ten minutes before asking about Beckett. I said it would be sooner," Espo explained while pocketing the cash.

"Well why wouldn't I ask about her?" He scowled. "Is she all right?"

Ryan watched as the monitors attached to Castle spiked and said, "Castle, she's fine. Settle down." He put his hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back against his pillows. "She's giving her statement to the state police."

"The state…" He scowled. "Do they have questions about what happened? They haven't been to see me yet. There were only the two of us there."

"Yeah we know," Espo said quietly.

Castle narrowed his eyes: his investigative brain already working out the motivation behind the inquiry. "Wait, they don't think…"

"We don't know what they think bro. We both had to give statements."

Ryan interrupted, "Yeah, Gates too, but I think they're just making sure they have all their facts straight. You know, because the case has had so much publicity."

"Yeah bro, that's all it is; dotting the I's and crossing the T's."

"Guys…"

"Nothing to worry about."

"Guys, it's okay." He lifted his hand to rub his face, but thought better of it and let it drop to the scratchy blanket. "I knew I'd have to give them a statement. You don't have to worry that I'll go off the deep end."

Ryan cringed, but then spun on his heal, hiding his smirk.

"Too soon?" He asked; giving them his best crooked, 'I am absolutely up to no good,' smirk himself. He could get away with the dark humor with the boys, not so much with Kate, not concerning himself anyway.

"Dude!" said Espo as he shook his head and scowled. Despite the detective's scolding tone, Castle could still see the hint of amusement in his dark eyes.

Castle gingerly wiped the tear from the corner of his eye and grinned. "Seriously, I was telling Beckett that I feel like I've turned a corner, you know? I thought I was having a panic attack on the golf course, but it turned out that Derrick drugged me. It was so cool."

His partners both raised their eyebrows simultaneously.

"Not being drugged or…" he scowled, "betrayed. No it was just that I was in control…sort of." He yawned. He couldn't sleep after the nocturnal visit from his father, so he had been awake for several hours. "I guess I don't feel like I'm at the mercy of the PTSD anymore." He stretched his neck, leaned back on the pillows and yawned again.

Esposito stood and gripped his shoulder. "I'm really glad to hear that Castle," he said sincerely. Even though every person's struggle with PTSD was different, Esposito along with Beckett had a good idea of what he'd gone through.

"So am I," a rich, low, tranquil voice proclaimed from the doorway along with an easygoing knock on the wooden door frame.

Castle and his two partners looked toward the sound. Dr. Carter Burke tentatively stood just outside the door, his knuckles still poised for knocking.

"Carter," Castle said as he cleared his throat. His voice was starting to tire and with the fatigue, the hoarseness was returning.

"Is this a good time?" The doctor asked, gawking intently and unintentionally making the detectives uncomfortable.

Rick smiled, "Yeah. Guys? Can you give us a few minutes?"

"Yeah," Espo said with Ryan's enthusiastic nodding backing him up. "We'll just go get some real food; something greasy."

"Not cool. Oo, bring me back a cheeseburger," Castle yelled to Ryan who was backing out of the room and swinging the door closed behind him.

Carter held his overcoat draped over his clasped hands in front of him as he openly assessed his patient.

Castle carefully avoided eye contact at first until the curiosity became too great. He had to try to read the man's thoughts. He'd never been successful before, but he'd always tried. As Castle predicted Carter's windows to his soul and mind were shuttered. He twisted his lips.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor's silky baritone, which had calmed him on too many occasions, filled the small room.

"It's mostly swallowing that hurts. I mean it's going to take a while for my arm to heal, but aside from that and my neck, it's pretty superficial. My voice is gravelly: I finally can do an authentic imitation of Jedediah Jones." He demonstrated, 'Well done, Derrick Storm."

"Rick."

Castle looked at his friend and doctor. "What?"

Burke laid his jacket over the back of the arm chair and took a seat. "I've spoken to Kate." Carter didn't like using ambush as a therapy in general, but he knew that Castle would try his best to slough off his feelings about the events of the past few days, yesterday in particular.

"So, then you know everything and we can chat about the Knicks."

Burke smiled. "You don't have to talk about anything; I came here to check on a man who I consider to be a good friend who has been through the wringer. If he happens to want to get anything off his chest, I'm here. If not, I know I'll still see him at his appointment on Monday at my office."

Castle arched an eyebrow. "Is emotional blackmail a beginner or advanced course in psycho school?"

Carter's lips curved slightly upward. "How about those Knicks?"

Kate closed her eyes. 'How could this man be associated with the attorney general?'

The SAG was a quick-witted, fiercely intelligent man named Bryant Maxwell. His political star rose quickly, starting his career as an ADA and rapidly rising before being head-hunted by the SAG. According to Bob Weldon, Rick's friend and Mayor of the city, Maxwell was on the fast track to D.C. and an appointment in the Attorney General's office. She had met him at a fundraiser Castle attended and truly liked the man. She couldn't say the same for his investigator.

Hoade nasally called her attention back to the present. "Detective Beckett, please answer the question."

Kate swallowed as she composed herself. "No."

Hoade looked up from his notepad, surprised. He hid the emotion quickly, but Beckett had seen it. She knew what she was doing in an interrogation. "So, to the best of your knowledge, you are stating, for the record, that Richard Castle did not have any vendetta against Joseph or Liam Buchanan."

"No, I am stating for the record that Richard Castle did not in any way shape or form have a vendetta against Joseph or Liam Buchanan. They came after him. Joey tried to kill him. Castle did his best, despite personal injury, to help with their apprehension not their deaths."

"And yet, they both ended up dead."

Beckett held her mouth firmly closed, preventing her knee-jerk response from escaping. She inhaled and calmed herself before looking back up into Hoade's eyes. She knew he was baiting her; she had used the technique herself. Say something so outrageous that the suspect would take umbrage and try to set the record straight, usually incriminating themselves or others in the process. "Look, Liam and Joey escaped standing trial for crimes committed against Richard Castle and myself. We were their victims. We could have ignored the fact that dangerous fugitives had escaped and let the locals deal with it…"

"Why didn't you?"

"What?"

"You're right; you should not have been involved. Why were you, Castle, and your team still here?"

"We were helping."

"You pushed your way onto the task force."

"We're investigators; a highly effective team and yes, we were willing to help."

"Ignoring any potential conflict of interest."

"Yes, but..."

"And now, your persecutors, your antagonists, the same men you pushed your way on to the task force to apprehend are dead; one of them, allegedly at the hands of Richard Castle."

Castle surveyed his hands. Not too worse for wear: his fingertips of his right hand were tender from the abuse he'd put them through escaping Derrick's adhesive scheming. He let his mind focus on the various body parts affected. His nose felt three times bigger than normal, his arm was sore where Joey had sliced it. His left forearm was healing along with the other scrapes he had received at the business end of Ryan's tackle, including his concussion. Apparently sloshed brains didn't stick with him; he no longer felt dizzy or nauseous, maybe he no longer had brains. Maggie cautioned him as she guided him back to bed when she checked on him just moments ago, that a concussed brain could take weeks or months to fully heal. She told him that post-concussion syndrome symptoms could include what he recognized as a lot of the same symptoms he had as a writer: irritability, anxiety, insomnia, loss of concentration and memory. Rick smiled; if he ever needed a full time nurse, he'd do everything he could to hire Maggie. He earned her latest huff and eye roll just after the hospital served lunch. Directly after that, the boys smuggled in his cheeseburger flavored contraband. He owed them and they let him know.

The other injuries were healing and aside from his neck, they didn't bother him. The strangling was traumatic, both physically and emotionally. He now knew what Lanie meant when she described a strangulation as a violent act and how victims fought back. He would have done anything to have the belt off of his neck. Burke had skated around the subject when he had visited, but left what they discussed up to Castle. He knew that he'd have to talk to the doctor about it sooner or later, but until then, he just wanted to move forward. Unfortunately everything that would allow him to move forward was out of his control. He sighed and climbed out of bed, checking the door to make sure he wouldn't get caught. He smiled defiantly, like a kid getting away with busting his curfew and walked to the window. Even though Doctor Jones, (Castle was sure he was a neo-fascist and always pronounced his doctor's name with a German accent, like the Nazis in the Indiana Jones movies) wouldn't let him out of the hospital; at least he could look out.

He wondered where Beckett was and hoped that whoever was questioning her was professional and competent.

Almost as if a cosmic stage manager read his mind, his door opened and she entered on cue. Castle turned from the window at the sound.

"Hey," Beckett said as she glided into his room. The door clicked closed quietly behind her. She fell into her habit of assessing him when she saw him. "You look like you're deep in thought, what's up?"

He smiled. "I was just wondering if you'd been abducted by aliens and if you were would you bring me a tee-shirt from their ship's gift shop. Or at the very least a wobbly-headed geisha doll, maybe a pony or a plastic rocket." He considered her as they met in the middle of the room. "Are you all right?"

Beckett smiled and tilted her head, still assessing. "Isn't that my line?"

"Too obvious. You need to make the reader curious why the non-patient is asked the question. So?"

"I'm okay; I think I'm just tired."

He cupped her face in his hands and ran the pads of his thumbs under the dark purplish circles under her eyes. She wasn't just tired; she was exhausted. "I'm sorry, Kate."

She put her finger over his lips. "Shh; there's no reason to apologize." Her face brightened. "The good news is that Gates is going to give all of us some time off to recover."

"How much time?" He shifted his hands so they bracketed her hips and pulled her closer to him.

Kate placed her hands around his neck, but when he stiffened, she said, "Sorry," and hooked her hands over his shoulders. "I don't know; she wasn't specific. Why?"

"I think it's time for the three S's."

"Three S's?"

"Yeah; sea, sand and surf."

"You mean the Hamptons?"

"We could, but I was thinking someplace that had warmer…" he kissed her softly, "um…waters," he finished as he waggled his eyebrows and immediately regretted the motion, but tried to hide the pain from Kate.

Kate felt his body tense. "Are you supposed to be up?"

"No, but I can't lie in that bed anymore." He turned back to the window.

"It will only be two more days."

"Two more days of what? Do you know that there are forty-seven whole ceiling tiles in here? Two more that are cut away because of the air vents and three that aren't square. I'm thinking of fixing them myself. There are one hundred and seventeen parking spaces on this side of the building and someone on staff has a seventy-two black Challenger that's unbelievable. I've made new friends: Maggie, Joyce, and Anna-Maria are my nurses. Todd and another dude who doesn't like to talk, so I call him Biff, are the orderlies who deliver the runny eggs and the piece of shoe leather that was covered in gray gravy. I have completed every crossword that they have on the floor and I am going to go insane if I have to stay here another two days."

She stood behind him and laced her arms through his, kissed his shoulder blade, and laid her head on his back. She listened to his heart stubbornly asserting that he was alive. She hugged him a bit tighter and sighing, decided to change the subject. "I heard you had some visitors."

"Yeah, just Burke and the boys." He had grasped her hands in his and was absently drawing circles around and over her knuckles. "Burke says Hi and that he'll see us on Monday." His clipped tone was a dead giveaway. He wasn't happy about the appointment.

Kate bit her lip. "Sorry, I spoke to him this morning at the hotel."

Castle sighed. "Can we just check with each other before we commit?" He didn't like being handled; coddled was okay, but he preferred input and control over his life. Kate had a feeling that little Ricky Rodgers had very little control or input growing up.

"I'm sorry, babe. It will be better when we're all on more even footing." With the exception of a deep sigh, he was quiet. "Um, you said the boys were here?"

"Yeah, they brought me some contraband in the form of good coffee and a bear claw. They said that you were giving a statement. Now that everything is over, the state police are taking back jurisdiction?"

"Yeah, it's all politics. Honestly, I think Kev Callis is okay with it. The investigator they sent is an interesting man."

He turned back to her, intrigued. "Yeah?"

"Don't look so excited. You'll get your chance to make up your own mind. He hasn't been to take your statement yet, has he?"

"No; unless he took it while I was asleep," he said through a well-timed yawn. He moved back to the bed and leaned against it.

Kate followed and sat in the armchair, kicking off her flats and curling her leg under her. "You'd remember," she said and smiled ruefully. "Have you heard from Derrick? He disappeared again and no one has seen him."

"I don't think they will. I have it on good authority that Derrick is nursing his bruises far away from here."

"Whose authority? And I don't remember him getting hurt, but to be fair, I kind of was concentrating on my favorite author."

He gave her a half smile, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead before sitting on the bed. "My," he exhaled, "um…my dad came to see me last night."

'Oh,' Kate thought. He seemed more anxious than she would have thought he should have been. A visit from his father explained a lot about his mood.

Castle scooted up on the bed, looking wearier by the second. "He apologized and said that Derrick had been sent away…after he had been…" he cleared his throat, which had become hoarse again, "reprimanded."

"Who is Derrick?"

Castle turned his head toward the door. A man wearing an off the rack gray herringbone suit that looked like it had been slept in stood half in and half out of the doorway. He had larger glasses that Castle guessed hadn't been replaced since the eighties, which he pushed up the bridge of his nose twice while standing there, and wispy salt and pepper hair combed across his head. He carried a battered brown attaché case and wore the finest scuffed up brown shoes a man could buy at discount store.

Kate pursed her lips and stood, slipping her feet into her shoes, not from a catalogue. "Mr. Hoade," she began and Castle was glad he was not on the receiving end of that tone. "This is a private room and that was a private conversation. What in the hell do you think you are doing?" Castle sat forward in surprise. Beckett showed obvious dislike for the man and his manners.

"My job, detective." He pursed his lips distastefully and began openly ignoring Beckett. He turned toward the bed. "Mr. Castle, I am Walter Hoade. The State Attorney General has appointed me special investigator in this whole ignominious affair." Castle raised an eyebrow at the man's choice of words. Hoade dropped his case onto the end of Castle's bed and held out his hand.

Castle looked at the case, the man's hand and then up into his eyes. "Sorry," he rasped, "infection control." He held his hands up and away from Hoade's. He tried to catch Beckett's eyes to read what was happening, but she had moved toward the window, all he could read was her back. The cause of the animosity between the two would be a story worth hearing.

Hoade's lips curled downward as if he had swallowed a pill. He turned back to Beckett. "Detective, I'll need to ask you to wait outside while I take Mr. Castle's statement."

Beckett spun to face the man. "Fine," she gritted through pursed lips.

Castle looked back and forth between the two. 'Whoa, this can't be good,' he thought. Whatever was going on, he'd have to be guarded.

Kate walked by the bed and pointedly moved the attaché case and set it on the floor. She tucked Castle's blanket around his feet and patted his foot. "Castle, remember that you're the victim here." She patted his foot and met his eyes. She turned and without another word to Hoade, left the room.

It was fortunate that the monitors had been removed after lunch because Castle was sure the readings of his vitals would have given his growing apprehension away.

"So, Mr. Castle…or Richard, may I call you Richard or Rick?" Hoade sat on the edge of the vinyl chair next to the bed with his knobby knees pressed tightly together. He bent down and opened his case and pulled out a legal pad and several sheaves of clipped together papers.

The man's nasal tone grated on Castle's nerves. Kate said that he'd get his chance to form his own opinion of the man, but he was content to follow Beckett's lead. She clearly disliked and distrusted him. Castle would have to be careful.

"I'm fine with Mister Castle," Rick's gravelly voice and blatant attempt to keep Hoade at arm's length brought the investigator's eyes up to Castle's. They were a dull gray, no life, or color revealed there, but there was intelligence, shrewdness.

"Very well Mister Castle; tell me why you're here."

Castle stared at the man as he reached for his pink plastic water cup. After taking a gulp of the tepid water he asked for clarification. "Specifically in Benedictine Hospital or in Ulster County or is this more of an existential question, trying to decipher the morae and patterns of the known universe and how we compliment it?"

"Yeah," the man was on his feet and leaning over Castle. "I've heard all about you, you think you're so clever."

"Whoa hang on there," Castle shouted. He scooted up on his bed trying to retain whatever personal space he could. Hoade had him at a huge disadvantage already; he had pants. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"No, but I know people back in the city. You're not well thought of in certain legal circles there Mr. Castle. I want to know where those opinions come from and if they're justified, could they be connected with your vendetta against Joseph Buchanan."

"Holy shit," Castle said as he frowned. He held onto the pain, it reminded him of the true reason he was there. "First, I had no vendetta against Joe. I did nothing but try to help an aspiring writer at the bequest of my publisher. He sought me out, not the other way around. Hell he kidnapped Detective Beckett and me. I am in Ulster County to give my testimony in the case of People versus Joseph Buchanan and Liam Buchanan; a trial they were to stand for that kidnapping and assault before escaping and killing and injuring God knows how many before he could get to me." Castle paused and coughed. "I am currently stuck in this hospital recovering from wounds caused by Joseph Buchanan. If I'm guilty of devising a vendetta against Joey, I'm really fucking bad at it."

"Joseph Buchanan is dead."

In frustration, Castle pinched the bridge of his nose out of habit. He yelped, "Son of a bitch," upon feeling the ache. Hoade made a note on his pad. Castle's stress level increased along with his respirations and he began to feel dizzy and coughed violently.

Hearing Castle's yell, Maggie popped her head in the door. She quickly assessed her patient's duress. "Mr. Castle, it looks like you're not following your doctor's orders. What did he say about getting upset?" Maggie took his pulse and listened to his chest, rubbing his back soothingly. She made some adjustments on the bedside oxygen and pulled the nasal cannula over Castle's head and placed it properly on his face.

"He said don't," Castle answered hoarsely, between coughs.

Maggie brushed her hand down the side of her favorite patient's face and turned steely eyes on his visitor. "I don't know who you are, but my patient nearly died yesterday and no one in a suit and tie, especially one with the diner's lunch special on it is going to come in here and mess up his recovery. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Hoade pursed his lips defiantly, but Castle spoke up.

"Maggie, it's okay. Mr. Hoade is just doing his job. I'd prefer to get this over sooner rather than later."

Maggie walked around Castle's bed and flipped on the monitors. She had him place his finger in the infrared clamp. "Okay," she relented, "but only because Mr. Castle insisted and I'll be monitoring him. You don't agitate him again or I will have you removed."

Castle thanked her with a smile as she left the room. He took in several deep breaths through the cannula and calmly said, "Look, I didn't orchestrate or ask for any of this. I actually liked Joey when I first met him, when he wasn't trying to harm me or my family. Do you want to know what happened at the hotel or not?"

Walter Hoade learned that day that despite his self-important confidence due to his unimpeded ride on Bryant Maxwell's coattails and the preconceived opinions he had of Richard Castle and his role in the debacle in Ulster County, he could be intimidated. Not by Castle, but by his fiercely protective nurse. He quietly and civilly asked his questions and received highly detailed and complete answers. Castle didn't pause or give Hoade extra time to write everything he said. He hoped the man was up on his shorthand.

While Hoade packed his bag, Castle asked him to hand him his own laptop bag, which he did. Castle pulled out a file folder and set it on the tray table. He opened it and flipped through the pages to the last. He retrieved a Montblanc pen from the case.

"Mr. Hoade, I had time, earlier today, to organize my thoughts." Hoade looked at him uncomprehendingly. Castle sighed. "I typed a statement. If you'll witness…" he indicated the papers and signed and dated the last page. "There," he said handing the man the file. "I think you'll find that corroborates my answers of your earlier questions and in all probability elucidates them and any further questions you may have. My attorney's contact information is also included."

Hoade looked through the file briefly. It appeared to be a very comprehensive statement; like one you'd find in a police report. "Thank you Mr. Castle" the ferrety man offered his hand again.

Castle looked at him, a glint of humor danced in his blue eyes. "Sorry, still looking to control the infection risk." It wasn't true, strictly speaking, but he couldn't bring himself to shake the hand of the man who had basically accused him of taking Joey's life on purpose. That he had planned the whole saga. He shook his head. "Good bye, Mr. Hoade," he bid the man with uncharacteristic finality as he settled back on his pillows and closed his eyes. The sooner he was home, the better.

He hadn't realized he fell asleep until he lazily opened his eyes. The room was darker than it had been when Hoade had left. He propped himself up and looked around. Castle felt like he had been asleep for years, he casually ran his hand across his chin: no beard, just some stubble.

"Mr. Castle," Gates said from across his room. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you."

He combed his fingers through his hair and cursed silently. He wished he could remember not to do that. "No," he cracked and cleared his throat. "I'm…okay…um Captain?"

"Yes, Mr. Castle." She slowly walked toward the bed. He hadn't felt as trapped since, oh about twenty-four hours ago.

"Just, um…can I…um…can I do something um…for you?" It was disconcerting to say the least to wake and find Captain Gates in his room.

"No, I just stopped by to see how you were doing." She stood right next to his bed.

"Thanks…thank you. I'm better." He apprehensively pulled the blankets further up his chest.

"Good, good. I've told the team, well the rest of your team, to take some time off. I mean it; I don't want to see anybody until Wednesday." She picked up her purse that she apparently deposited on the arm chair. He wondered how long she'd been in his room while he drooled and snored. He was sure he had been snoring given the condition of his nose.

"Thank you, sir."

She gathered "No need…uh…Rick, just get well and make sure Detective Beckett…um…Kate rests as well."

"Well, okay, I'll pass that along, but you know, what she does on her own time…"

Raising her eyebrow and looking directly at him she said, "Rick," she stopped his floundering and he could see it in her face.

He met her eyes and read her silent blessing. "Thank you, uh, thanks…Victoria?"

"Captain Gates or sir will be fine." She gave him a tight smile and patted his arm before she turned and walked out the door.

"Yes, um…yes, sir." He smiled as the door clicked close and his eyes closed again as well. The next morning he wouldn't be able to tell if Gates' visit was real or a dream, but at that time he was content.