Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: In addition to the characters I don't own, you'll recognize a few snippets of dialog from the show - those aren't mine, either. More comments down below.

.

Castle

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Castle speaks clearly from the podium, "friends and donors." Castle waits while the low hum of activity at each table ebbs to silence and attention shifts his way. He looks like a consummate master of ceremonies: well-fitted suit, shoes that sparkle almost as much as his eyes, hair coiffed, and demeanor joyous.

Looks like Paula's efforts didn't bear much fruit – only a few media outlets sent representatives. Our little party didn't seem newsworthy, eh? Well, the few who attended will soon find themselves very popular.

"When we started the Johanna Beckett Scholarship Fund, I promised each of you that we'd be making progress towards investing in our city, towards providing a more stable future for all of our brothers and sisters, especially those most at risk of suffering injustice without redress." Castle pauses to survey the room. The eyes of today's luncheon attendees are on him, but it's Gates he seeks out. Finding her at the back of the room, her small head shake tells him to keep talking.

Who would've thought there'd ever be a day when Captain Gates encouraged me to keep talking?

"Ours is an aspirational goal, no easier to attain even though Johanna led the way," Castle emotes to his rapt, captive audience. "Progress is difficult to measure, so we consider our steps on the path to a better city. Today, I've asked you here to celebrate two major successes of Johanna's Fund, and to thank you for your efforts to get us here."

Castle steps around the podium and down the two stairs to speak to the crowd without a barrier. Strolling among the tables, he deftly makes his way while avoiding the members of serving staff, who are delivering the salad plates. Heading to the bar at the back of the room, he makes eye contact with Gates on the way. No change.

Taking a flute of champagne from the bar, he turns and lifts it high. "Our first success," he speaks loudly and clearly, without the aid of a microphone, "is that the Fund is now fully endowed for two annual, full-ride scholarships. Our balance is protected, allowing us to provide top-flight legal education using only the accumulated interest from your generous contributions. Don't worry," Castle soothes as he surveys the room, "we'll still be hounding you for donations to build the endowment," he says with a smile, winning a handful of generous laughs, "but we've got traction now."

Good turnout for the lunch. I owe Bob for helping out, and for distracting everyone from the Judge's absence.

"But, Rick," he says as if someone else was talking, "what good are two undoubtedly brilliant students in a city of eight million?" Castle makes eye contact with those around the room as he lets the question sink in.

There are only four on our homicide team, and I know we matter.

"Two students a year!" he says suddenly, excitedly, startling two of the nearby guests who'd been staring adoringly at him. "Two students with the energy, intelligence, and education to bolster the ranks. Two students of the hundreds of applicants. We're creating demand," he says as he looks around, eyes shimmering. "We're creating leaders," he says proudly. "We're creating hope."

Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gates subtly move her hand, extending her fingers. Five minutes.

"Two might not seem like many, but I'm thrilled with two. Why?" he asks as he roams among the tables, this time looking up at the table of dignitaries next to the podium. Jim looks slightly uncomfortable, but proud. Bob looks engaged. Though with his training, he might be taking a nap. And the keynote speaker looks anxious to step into the spotlight.

"I'll give you two reasons. Two reasons I'm happy about two students. First," he says easily, "you can't get to more without going through two. Don't think we're going to stop. Our city deserves more." Castle's happy to see Bob nod at this point, proving that he's awake. "But the second reason, the real reason? Two is fantastic because we only had one Johanna Beckett. If one vibrant, compassionate attorney could provide such hope, how can we not be exhilarated by the prospect of two?"

Time to move the pieces into place.

"So – thank you," Castle says sincerely as he starts his walks back to the podium. "We know we wouldn't be here without you, wouldn't have this good news to share."

Stepping up to the elevated platform, Castle walks behind those at the head table to resume his starting position, giving Jim a comforting pat on the shoulder as he walks by. Standing at the podium again, Castle adjusts the microphone, using Beckett's interrogation tactic of silence to ensure that his audience is focusing on him.

"Our second success," he says while raising his flute again, "is that we're, like, popular!" he says in his best imitation of the intonation from Alexis' high school friends, again winning an indulgent chuckle from the crowd. "Applications are skyrocketing. Other law schools know us – they are reaching out to us about expanding our idea. The top national law firms know us and have so far done us the favor of helping. That'll change," Castle says conspiratorially, "when they realize we're stealing away the best legal talent. Shhhh!" he says with a finger to his lips and a twinkle in his eye.

Waiting for the chuckles to subside, he rounds into home stretch. "Alas, every silver lining has a cloud," Castle facetiously laments. "Due to our newfound prominence, we've come to the attention of politicians," he says with a dramatic roll of his eyes. Bob, as discussed before the event, raises his arms in victory and pumps his fists a few times to emphasize the joke.

"Clearly," Castle says as he switches to an earnest tone of voice, "we're making inroads, making people excited. We are elated," he says with emphasis, "that our elected leaders are recognizing our promise and are willing to let us stand on their shoulders to elevate Johanna's Fund. Mayor Weldon, a good man and a good friend, was our very first donor and has been a stalwart supporter. And today's keynote speaker will certainly provide attention for our Fund." More than he knows.

Standing aside with an arm motion, Castle cedes the podium to the keynote speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's a good thing our next speaker needs little introduction, because I promised you a delicious but quick lunch that would allow you to return to your offices, chambers, or classrooms for the afternoon. Instead of listening to his biography, I ask you to think about what he's going to talk about," Castle says as he sees Beckett step from a back room, flanked by LT in street clothes and followed by Judge Mathis. Gates is about twenty yards to their right, standing vigil.

"Think about Johanna. Think about her hope and faith in our city. Think about how one person – just one person – can make a difference, can alter history." Despite the subject of his talk, Castle can't help looking at the speaker and thinking that his words apply to him, too, in a much different way. "Think about her life, her sacrifice," Castle finishes, looking directly into Beckett's eyes from across the room. He almost cracks a smile when he feels her rub his cheek. It takes all his reserve to keep a straight face and to not pretend that he's been slapped again.

"Friends and donors, I promised you an eventful lunch, and for that I now turn things over to Senator Bracken, today's keynote speaker. Fortune smiled upon us when he decided to help lend attention to our cause. So, please, get ready for what I'm sure will be an event to remember. Because I can assure you," Castle pauses to survey the room one last time before looking at Beckett again, "we wouldn't be here without people like him."

Jim Beckett

Rick's such a natural at this. He worked the crowd like a magician, all while I sat here and tried to keep myself under control, sitting next to the monster that tore our lives apart. I hope Katie's ready to make her move – I don't think I can bear the thought of listening to him talking about Jo.

"Thank you, Mr. Castle," Bracken says from his newly-claimed spot behind the podium, using his dazzling smile and open expression divert attention from the note cards he pulls from his pocket and props on the podium. "Or can I call you 'Rick'?" he asks good naturedly as he smiles while surveying the audience, missing Castle's brief grimace in response.

No, you can't. That's my daughter's partner up there. He's ours.

"I've been aware of the Johanna Beckett Scholarship Fund since it was created and let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to be a part of today's celebration. It's all too rare these days to find an event that's just a thank-you, just a celebration. And while it's no surprise that Rick likes a good party," he mugs it up for the audience, which delights in seeing Castle's slight blush, "it's to his credit, and to those others who oversee the Fund," Bracken says as he extends an open arm to Jim, "that they thought to take the time to show their appreciation. It's fitting that even the celebrations are a pleasant reminder of the woman who inspired us all."

Don't pretend that you know her. To you she wasn't an inspiration, she was a threat, a loose end. Well, guess what, Mr. Senator? My Katie's on the move.

"Ah, Detective Beckett," Bracken announces from the podium as he notices Beckett moving toward him, "I feared that you'd miss this event. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Katherine Beckett, Johanna's daughter and the youngest woman to make detective at the NYPD."

All because of you, bastard. She should be sitting at one of the donor's tables, a happy and successful attorney. Instead, she's here as the instrument of your downfall.

While the audience breaks out into isolated spots of polite clapping, anyone who can see Beckett as she walks a path through the tables and towards the podium is dissuaded from clapping by her deliberate stride and serious countenance. The intensity around Beckett builds, creating a sense of suspense.

"I found the tape," Beckett says clearly from about ten yards away from the podium. Bracken attempts to look calm, casually glancing to his right, where Castle stands in place with a grim smile on his face. Swiveling his head to the left, he sees LT standing with legs apart, arms crossed, and an easy smile.

"I found it," Beckett repeats, "it's over," she says as she vaults onto the raised platform, walking behind the head table and letting her hand drift across her father's back as she approaches the podium.

At last. At last we'll see some justice for Jo! Thank you, Katie.

"Senator Bracken," Beckett says while utterly ignoring the audience from whom Bracken is trying to hide, particularly the flanking tables of media representatives who can't believe their good fortune at being here, "you are under arrest for conspiracy, fraud, and the murder of my mother, Johanna Beckett. Turn around, please."

The murmurs turn into a near roar at the ratcheting sound of the cuffs securing Bracken's wrists. Someone from his entourage steps forward to intercede, only to be cut off by Captain Gates, brandishing the freshly-signed arrest warrant.

Castle

Castle waits until Beckett finishes the Miranda warning, certain that the vast number of attorneys and judges in the room would notice any irregularities, before stepping quietly to Beckett's side. "Don't leave without me," he reminds her.

I'm with you to the end of the road, partner.

"Of course not," Beckett says simply, the look in her eyes speaking volumes. "I need you with me. Go charm them," she says with a nod to the audience, "then come back to me."

"I'll meet you in back," Castle replies. Then, with one quick, phantom kiss to the cheek, he turns to return to the podium. Meeting Gates' eyes, he gives her a nod of respect and nearly falls over when she returns the gesture.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated and allow law enforcement to clear the room," Castle requests politely once back behind the podium. Surprisingly, most people listen, though the gossip is flying and almost everyone has pulled out cellphones, either to document the event or to break the news. Unsurprisingly, the media members ignore Castle and chase after the procession like abandoned terriers. All except the lone photographer who remains in place long enough to record Jim Beckett, sitting quietly in his chair at the head table, silent tears coursing down his cheeks.

Hold on, Jim. We're almost there.

"Well," Castle says exuberantly into the microphone, commanding attention by both volume and tone, "I promised you excitement, didn't I? Unfortunately, it's caused a bit of a wrinkle in our lunch plans. Captain Victoria Gates of the NYPD's 12th precinct asked me to request that you remain on the premises until the NYPD has departed," Castle says with a nod to the main exit doors, which are flanked by two uniformed officers. "As you might imagine," Castle says conspiratorially, "transferring a detainee of such prominence requires a little more than a squad-car."

Though I wouldn't've minded a hearse.

"Luckily," Castle continues, "I had the foresight to have a backup plan ready to go. Just don't tell the media, we don't want to tarnish my terrible reputation," he says with a laugh, which the audience joins. I could tell them that I had porridge for breakfast and they'd laugh, just to release some of the lingering tension from this event.

"I've already introduced you to my friend, the mayor," Castle says with a smile and an arm extended to Weldon. "Bob's going to tag-in for me on the hosting duties. But, I've got another friend here tonight who will pinch hit for us on the keynote speech."

Jim, I'd introduce you as my friend, too, but you look like you've got more than enough attention right now. So, maybe this next surprise will be a welcome lark, if you can manage to hear or think about anything but Bracken right now.

"Our new-and-improved speaker also requires little introduction," Castle says grandly as the doors at the back of the room open and Castle's "pinch-hitter" makes his way toward the podium. "And," he continues to speak with his usual spark of mischief clearly on display, "I'm pretty sure the only things he's been accused of killing are the playoff aspirations of the other teams unfortunate enough to reside in the AL-East."

Thank goodness for Rocco. Joe probably would've agreed to do this just for me, but having a brother who was in the NYPD certainly sealed the deal.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I turn you over to the capable hands of Mr. Joe Torre. For those of you who aren't big baseball fans, just hold on. Joe's an excellent speaker and if for no other reason, give it a shot for Johanna. She managed to put up with being subjected to full Mets games," Castle says with a wink to Jim, "so a twenty-minute chat from one of the greatest managers in history should be a dream in comparison."

After exchanging pleasantries, Castle turns the podium over to Joe, who's good enough to launch right into a story to provide some cover for Castle's departure. Nodding to Burton and Erickson, the uniforms at the door, Castle makes his way to the group of officers assembled around Bracken. As he approaches, Gates intercepts him while holding a flak jacket.

"Nicely handled, Mr. Castle," Gates says, shocking Castle again. The only response he can manage is "This doesn't say 'Writer,'" in reference to his vest.

"Don't worry," Gates replies directly, "the rest of the plan is proceeding as discussed. We'll move as soon as you're suited up."

"Then I guess we're ready to make the call?" Castle asks as he takes off his suitcoat and dons the police vest, looking past Gates to make eye contact with his partner. She's standing behind Bracken, a hand on his forearm, both of them wearing vests. Even cuffed, she won't let him go. Can't say that I blame her.

Castle makes his way to Beckett as he hears Gates say "We're moving" into a radio. Whether due to the Gamma connection or just their natural attentiveness to each other, Beckett's head turns away from the discussion she was watching to see her partner approach. She looks resolute. Not willing to call this a victory yet. Good – now comes the hardest part.

"Hey partner," Castle greets Beckett, earning only a sneer from Bracken. "What's with him? I figured he'd be spouting threats or spewing curses."

"His chief of staff," Beckett answers with a nod of her head toward the man who'd tried to interrupt the arrest, "passed along recommendations from his attorney to say nothing. Makes this much more pleasant."

"A silent politician," Castle muses. "Sounds like an oxymoron, or a Jimmy Stewart movie," he smirks, pulling a snarl from Bracken. Then, turning serious, he gives his partner a searching look. "Are you ready for this?"

Beckett pauses for a moment, staring into Castle's eyes. Then, hesitantly, she nods.

"Don't worry," Castle assures her with a whisper as he leans close, unwilling to let Bracken overhear this exchange. "I've practiced with Espo. If anything happens, we'll be fine." Pulling back from her, Castle gives her a look of confidence, loading his expression with as much support as he can muster.

"I know," Beckett answers in a low voice. "I trust you, partner."

They're staring at each other again when Bracken finally speaks. "Oh, for the love of God, get me out of here before I throw up. Though it's nice," he can't manage to help himself from saying, "to see how important the writer is to you."

Trying to goad Beckett into a brutality charge? That won't work. Probably.

"Please," Beckett replies flatly. "As if that's anything new." Then, with a relatively gentle shove, she starts Bracken heading toward the door. As they move, a procession materializes around them. Gates is the point, flanked by LT. Several uniforms fan out on either side of them, creating a wedge. Beckett and Bracken follow, with Castle bringing up the rear.

Showtime.

As they emerge from the restaurant that Castle booked for the event, the shouted questions from reporters and pops and whirs of the media equipment assault them from multiple angles. As they'd planned, taking time to put on protective clothing and manage the audience provided the chance for the media members who attended the luncheon to array themselves on the stairs outside of the restaurant, held off at a safe distance by more uniforms. Bracken's chief of staff is off to the side, trying to get ahead of any public reaction to the Senator's arrest, but it's an obvious lost cause. This story is just too hot to pass up, and the chief seems to realize it when the junior entertainment reporter can't help but pay more attention to the procession than to him.

Gates looks back to cast Beckett and then Castle a wary glance. This was the part of the plan that nearly blew the whole thing up. She already suspects something's up with me. If this happens as I expect, she'd be a fool to not realize something deeper is going on. Without breaking stride, Gates turns and leads the group down the stairs toward the waiting vehicles.

Castle's just taken his fourth step down when the shot rings out. It's a loud bark conjured from the depths of his nightmares and Castle probably only imagines the concussive force that rattles his chest, thinking of the booming fireworks he's loved to watch since a child. The bullet hits just to the left of his foot, kicking up marble shrapnel and irreparably pocking the stair.

Chaos ensues and reality fractures, at least for Castle. It's almost like one of his storyboards, where the layers of the plot that will eventually be woven together are all laid out individually. Layer one: Gates asserts her command, directing her troops with ruthless efficiency. LT spins and grabs Bracken, hauling him into the waiting NYPD van. Layer two: another shot fires, this one sounding shorter and sharper. It's followed by a squawking bark over the radio reporting "Suspect down." Layer three: Castle landing on top of Beckett, unaware that he'd moved even though he and Beckett anticipated the shot.

Oh, shit. Something's seriously wrong.

Sprawled next to her on the stairs, Castle realizes that they're in trouble. The replay of Montgomery's funeral has hit her hard, left her shaking and unresponsive. He can see it as easily as he can feel it through their connection. The longer they stay here, the faster the media will turn the cameras on them. But he can't scoop her up the way he'd like, can't lift her up into a warm embrace that promises to protect her from the world, if only so long as she'd accept it. Failing to come up with a better option, Castle makes his pick and sends up a quick prayer of hope that Beckett won't assault him when she comes back to herself.

Well, if she does, it'll be a clear sign that things are back to normal.

With only a momentary sigh, Castle reaches out to lift Beckett, but not with his arms. Beckett's walk down the stairs isn't as ungainly as the way she rose on the steps, but Castle's still hoping that any camera footage of their flight is too harried to notice, or that Beckett's movements can be explained by a reaction to a sniper attack.

A human marionette isn't the easiest thing to maneuver.

Thankfully, the process of moving seems to trigger some autonomic responses from Beckett, who starts walking under her own power, though she still looks vacant. With Gates's vehicle screaming away from the curb with Bracken inside, Castle guides Beckett to Esposito's cruiser, where they both pile into the back seat.

"Kate," Castle whispers urgently, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. It's awkward, crammed into the back seat of the car, but Castle's desperate to reach out to his partner. When nothing seems to break through her fog, Castle makes another executive decision – five minutes. He'll give her five minutes to come around before he'll jump in front and haul them to the nearest hospital. Esposito will kill him for taking the car, but he'll work that out later.

After a brief pause to set his phone out where he can reach it to check the time, Castle resumes rubbing Beckett's arms.

But our physical connection is new. Maybe she needs words. And maybe we should start with where we left off last time.

"I love you, Kate," Castle says thickly, what was meant to be a lighthearted déjà vu reference instead emerging as even more emotionally raw the second time around. "Kate, I love you. I'm here and we're safe. Please come back to me." After mentally kicking himself to stop sounding so worried, Castle starts a constant stream of words, hoping the rumble of his voice will serve as a beacon to lead Beckett back home.

Castle's just considering giving himself an extension on his self-imposed deadline when Beckett shows signs of coming back to herself. There's no grand reaction, no sudden clutching at Castle. Instead, it's as if Beckett's swimming slowly to the surface. Her trembles slowly recede, her breathing slowly evens out, and her eyes slowly come back into focus. After a short eternity, Beckett's back. She's still withdrawn, perhaps embarrassed or exhausted, but she's back.

Come on, partner, talk to me. Otherwise I'm not going to stop talking and that'll drive us both crazy.

Movement outside the window draws his attention to where Ryan's stopped on his approach to the car. There's no sign of Esposito, so he's probably still dealing with the formalities resulting from his shot at the sniper. Shaking his head to warn Ryan off, he's warmed to see Ryan spin in place and take up a defensive posture as he guards them.

"I remember," Beckett says, calling his attention back to her. Staring at her beautiful face and clear gaze, he forgets her comment momentarily. "I remember, Rick. You said you loved me."

Of course I do.

"I did," Castle huffs emotionally, "and I do. Welcome back, partner. I'm so, so sorry about that."

"Did we get him?" Beckett asks, probably wondering if the trauma was productive.

"I think so," Castle answers with an embarrassed shrug. "I heard 'suspect down,' but to be honest, I was mostly concerned about you."

"Thank you, partner," Beckett says, finally wrapping Castle into a hug. "You were right about the sniper and you were right that you could protect me. But, Castle?" she asks and waits for him to pull back and look her in the face. "Let's never do that again."

I don't know, Kate. I'd do that and more to keep you safe.

"Agreed," Castle huffs, giving her a warm squeeze. "Definitely agreed. But, there's one thing about this debacle that you'll find interesting."

"Oh?" Beckett asks, surprising Castle by not pulling out of their embrace. "What's that?"

"I had the shield in place before we left the restaurant," Castle confides as Beckett nods, since this was part of the plan. "I know exactly where the bullet hit the shield before it was diverted. You weren't the target," Castle says slowly. "The sniper was gunning for Bracken."

A/N2: Happy Boxing Day! I managed to get a little writing time in when the kids went off to play with their new toys and before the relatives arrived for Christmas dinner. I'd hoped to get farther – this is only about half of what I wanted to accomplish in this chapter – but it felt like it was getting a little long. Plus, we're leaving town for a few days. So, I thought I'd post what I've got so far. Apologies for the short chapter, but updates are on the way (especially if my wife handles the driving duties again). Gates will have to explain the reason for their set-up when the next chapter begins. Of course, writing is a little less likely with the bounty of new stories to read (thanks for the Christmas present, Aalon!), but I can't seem to put this story down for long, even when I should.