A/N1: Hello peoples and WELCOME to the 24th Chapter of Absolution titled 'We've Got the Bastard!' I'd like to thank all of you kind people who gave me such kind and encouraging reviews for the last chapter despite the amount of swearing and aside from the fact I wrote Kate a little out of character. It was all done to give realism to the fic which you all seemed to appreciate. I try not to make the characters I write about swear too much but sometimes a well placed F word or a 'shit' works for the situation. I am thankful I have readers who seem to grasp and appreciate that fact. Anyway here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Over the next few days Rick slipped into a deep depression. He would not have left his room at the Waldorf Astoria had it not been for Frank physically rousing him each day and taking him to the precinct to assist his team in tracking down the mystery caller who still persisted in calling him, escalating their threats each time. Ryan and Esposito much to Gates' chagrin went against their surgeon's recommendations and returned to work two days after their discharge from hospital in a show of solidarity and friendship to Rick in an attempt to pull him out of his funk. The Writer turned Special Agent sat at his desk opposite Kate's and was staring despondently into space when Esposito flicked the apex of his ear yanking him out of his reverie.

"What the?" he mumbled distractedly.

"Yo, remember uz?" Esposito said cheerfully, his voice still nasal because of the tape brace on his face.

"Hey guys, how you feeling?" Rick replied as his two friends leant and sat on his desk.

"Bedder than you by de sounds," Ryan answered. "You haven't talked to Kade yed?"

"No, she tells me to 'eff off' when I text and hangs up on me when I call. So I've given up," Rick answered despondently as he slouched back in his chair with a sigh. "But I have talked to Jim and she's safe and sound. That's all I really want, to know she's safe. What about you two?"

"No lug eider," Ryan replied.

"Lanie's tried ringing 'er bud she's nod talging to her besd friend eider," Esposito added. "I don' thingk she's gonna speeg to any of uz any time soon."

"Well I don't blame her," Rick answered, cheerless. "I thought you were on sick leave for another week? I know your surgeon didn't want you back on active duty til next week."

"Fug 'im," Esposito responded. "`Is bez friend hasn't god a sniber after him, does `e? When we find him and Momma Begged's killer, den I'll go `ome and rest. Til den, I'm `ere til de wheels fall off."

"Same `ere," Ryan countered.

"Thanks guys," Rick said gratefully. "But if you want any update on those cases, you're gonna have to talk to Frank. While you've been on sick leave I've totally been working on the Hector Martinez homicide with Gates. The only time I have anything to do with Kate and Johanna's case is when I get a call from the sniper."

"Has he called today?" Ryan inquired, his face serious.

"No, but then it's only eight thirty in the morning, lately he hasn't called before midday," Rick replied, casting a glance over at his iPhone which rested in the Darth Vader cell phone cradle Kate had given him for his birthday. "Frank reckons whoever this person is, has the precinct building under surveillance and knows Kate and I aren't arriving and leaving each day together because the calls have dropped off. In my opinion, the sniper rang more when Kate was around because he knew it would stress me out more if I got them when Kate herself was around."

"How are Marda and Alegzis?" Esposito asked. "Are dey safe?"

"Yeah, though Alexis isn't impressed by having a protective detail," Rick shared. "She calls Ray, the agent Frank assigned to her a 'grumpy old fart' who's as cheerful as a box of rocks. Apparently Perlmutter is more cheerful. She'd rather Noah, the agent with Mother who knows how to cuss out in seventeen different languages."

Esposito and Ryan laughed heartily, appreciating the joke

"Well do you want some 'elp on the Martinez 'omicide?" Ryan asked. "Looks like you need something to occupy your mind."

'Thanks guys," Rick replied gratefully. "I was about to hit his phone records when you turned up."

"We're on id," Esposito said at once. "It might not be much comfort, bro. But Kade isn't going to keep up the silent treadment forever."

"I hope not, Javier. I really hope not."

Feeling much more motivated to work after Ryan and Esposito's arrival, Rick dived into the Hector Martinez case with his friends and managed to successfully distract himself from the fact Kate wasn't talking to him. He conducted two interviews, one with Gates and one with Esposito and began building a case to arrest the main suspect. He was just putting the paperwork in order for the Captain when his iPhone rang with a phone call. Instantly Ryan, Esposito and Frank's heads snapped up in perfect unison.

"Remember, try and keep them on the line as long as you can!" Frank hissed as the three friends approached his desk. "Everyone shut it!"

Instantly everyone in the room quietened and all eyes were trained on Rick as he reached for his iPhone and answered.

"Castle," he answered in his usual cheery manner.

"Mr Castle." the computerised voice began.

Rick groaned. "What the hell do you want?" he asserted. "I'm busy at the precinct and can't really be bothered with your shit. Haven't you got any work to do? Like real work? Or is your job to crank call people who won't do what you want? In fact I bet you were the bully at school who dunked little kids head first into toilets and pushed people into lockers. Where the hell do you get off bothering me? I've told you I can't and won't pull the feds off the investigation. I don't know any of the people conducting the investigation and I'm not a Special Agent, so how do you expect me to do anything? You must be as smart as a box of rocks if you believe I have any influence over the FBI. I'm a Writer for chrissakes. If I had any contacts with the FBI I'd use them to track down your pathetic ass."

"Oh I believe you have more influence than you say, Mr Castle," the voice answered. "You like to portray the image of a playboy who can't keep it in his pants, but behind the scenes you're dangerous and could very well pose a threat to my employer, you're costing him a lot of money, you see."

"Big deal," Rick replied. "He ought to have better business acumen. If a mystery writer is costing that asshole money, he's doing things totally wrong. Tell him he ought to leave politics and get into real estate or buy a racehorse. The Keeneland Yearling sales are on in November, I'm sure he could pick up the next Kentucky Derby winner there. Mind you if he's as stupid as I think he is, he might have trouble understanding what a horse is."

"You're a mouthy asshole, aren't you?" the voice shot back. "But keep in mind there are eyes on you, Mr Castle. And you cannot win. No one wins against my employer. He has more power and influence than you can possibly imagine."

"Where?" Rick asked sarcastically. "In the big men with little weiners sandpit? I know who he is and what he does and he has as much influence over me as the tooth fairy does. You can tell him nothing he does scare me, nothing he could do will scare me. I am stronger than he or you will ever be and when I reveal to the greater public who you two assholes are, you will both regret the day you were born. And mark my words, when this goes to court. I will be there every day for every minute and when you are handed a death sentence, I will be there to see the state put you down like the rabid dogs you are."

The voice on the other end of the line scoffed. "You've got nothing on us, Mr Castle," it proclaimed. "You'll never find out who I am or who my employer is. You haven't found out who we are in the past and you won't find us in the future."

"Yeah, that's what you think," Rick shot back. "I don't care how long it takes. I will work every day of my life in the attempt to bring you down. I swear on my life, you will regret the day you were born when I find out who you are."

"Not gonna happen," the voice countered. "Remember what I've said before, back off the investigation or I will put another bullet in your girlfriend. Back off the investigation and both parties will be happy. Continue on and you get it too."

"If you were serious about that, you would have moved weeks ago," Rick shot back. "You're like everyone else in this case, you're a gutless mouse and all talk to action. You were an ass kissing rank climber when I met with you and Kelly back in March and you're still an ass kissing rank climber now. A petrol bomb? God, juvenile college students on Spring Break put them in suburban letter boxes. Are you getting your ideas from a dumb practical jokes dot com? You've gotta work on your material if that's the best you can come up with."

"Oh trust me when I say the petrol bomb was only the beginning of things to come, Mr Castle," the voice said. "My employer and I have a list of things a mile long and we will go through every one of them to get you to back off. You're screwing with the wrong people, remember that. You're a little ant and at any time we could squash you."

"Yawn," Rick retorted. "You've known it's me investigating the case from day one if you were going to 'squash me' you would have done it long before now. You're all talk and no action. Man up and actually do something until then, to me you're nothing but an insecure bottom dwelling ass kisser. Oh by the way say hi to Robinson for me, let him know I'll be voting democrat at the next election."

And with that the writer hung up.

There was a short silence before Frank and the two agents who were monitoring the trace on Rick's phone let out a collective cheer.

"You legend, Castle. You kept the sunnofabitch on the line for two and a half minutes!" the youngest of the agents the Writer knew as Collins. "That was more than enough, we've got the bastard now!"

Rick remained silent. He rubbed his face then got up and made his way into the break room. Frank followed and closed the door behind himself.

"Hey you alright?" he inquired.

"Oh yeah, I just feel freaking terrific!" Rick replied, sarcastically. "God, that was hard. I was on the brink of totally breaking down, Frankie. I don't know how much longer I can do this. I haven't got Kate and Alexis is with mother on the other side of town. I don't know if I can do this without the support of my girls. I'm cracking here, barely holding on. I'm on the brink of quitting everything."

"Hold on for a short while longer and we'll have him, Ricky. I swear we will," Frank promised his friend. "Just a little while longer and then you can hand in your badge. You're doing brilliantly, really you are. Once this is all over I'd like you to stay in the service, you could be an excellent Special Agent."

"Not gonna happen," Rick replied tiredly. "Not at this point in time anyway. The minute we catch these sons of bitches and they have a conviction, I'm handing in my badge and service weapon. I'm even giving second thoughts to the commissioners offer to join the NYPD. I'm not entirely sure a career in law enforcement whether it be state or federal is for me."

"Ah, I wouldn't be so sure about that," Frank said with a chuckle. "You've got a real analytical mind, Ricky. That's why you've done so well as Kate's partner. If you became a cop, you'd have the full resources of the NYPD at your disposal and your efficiency would increase. I wouldn't totally dismiss it. You'd do well as a homicide detective. Everyone I've talked to since I've been in Manhattan, they haven't seen a team work as well together as you and Kate do, even Ryan and Esposito. I've seen that myself. You two are in sync."

"Yeah we were," Rick replied with a heavy sigh. "God, this is so messed up. I may get the guys we're after but I've lost my girl and in the whole scheme of things, I'm not entirely sure all this crap is worth losing Kate."

"Pal, you haven't 'lost' Kate," Frank replied, leaning against the table that was the centrepiece of the spacious room. "Sure, she's pissed off at you but that's not going to last. I've seen how you two operate and I know with you two, the current situation is not going to last. Kevin and Javier have said to me, whenever Kate's been mad at you in the past. She's come around eventually and out of everyone at the twelfth, those two would recognize that fact first."

"I still feel shit," Rick answered, covering his face with his hands. "I would feel so much better if she would just talk to me. But I know her far too well and I know if I try and force her, I will inevitably push her further away."

"She'll come around Ricky, when we find the evidence to nail Robinson for Johanna's murder. I will personally go to her and make her come with me, it's only proper she gets to be the one to arrest her mother's killer. Or the one who ordered the hit on her anyway."

"Well let's find this prick who keeps calling me first, huh?"

"We're on it."

The dark figure parked his car on the curb and cut the engine. He removed his gun from the glove compartment and holstered it before pulling up the collar of his jacket and getting out of the vehicle, manually locking it as not to attract anyone with the central locking beeps. Looking around to make sure he was on his own he strode down the sidewalk and took a quick left into a wet stinking alley packed with overflowing trash cans and dumpsters. Wrinkling his nose at a snoring street bum nestled in a bed of crushed cardboard boxes he strode further down the alley til he came to a metal door. He lifted a fist and knocked three times.

Almost immediately the door opened into the alley and a massive muscular African American man with a gaudy thick gold chain around his neck appeared running his eyes up and down the new arrival. "He's been expecting you," he said, standing aside.

The dark figure strode past his greeter and made his way down a dimly lit cramped hallway til he came to another smaller door. He grasped the door handle and strode in where another dark figure well known to him was waiting at a makeshift bar stocked with all the usual alcoholic fare.

"Sit," the other figure requested.

"I'm not a damn dog," the arriving figure snapped as he dropped down into a leather armchair. "We're in this together, don't order me around."

"I have to order you around because you can't do your fucking job!" the other figure snarled. "Jesus, I only needed you to shut Detective Beckett and Richard Castle up and you can't manage that simple task! Am I going to have to do it myself? The primary race is in full swing and I can't waste time knocking off a nosey cop and writer. People will get suspicious! It isn't a good look for a presidential candidate to be busted doing something illegal. I've worked my ass off getting to this point in my life and arranged my affairs carefully. I don't need you to screw it up."

"Hey, lay off!" the dark figure snapped. "Do you know how hard it is to get to those two? They have more protective detail than the damn president! If you want me to shut Detective Beckett and Richard Castle up, give me time. It takes time and patience to get to people like that without being obvious."

"I've given you time!" the other figure snarled. "I've been trying to get rid of Beckett since Montgomery bit the dust. How the hell you managed to miss a target that big with a military grade scope is beyond me! My dog could've shot Kate Beckett from freakin' Alcatraz."

"Hey, she moved at the last second! If I had a clear shot I would have tried another shot, but have you tried to shoot a moving target from that distance when there are a million freaking cops around? No, so shut your damn mouth."

The figure at the bar turned on his guest with the venom of a thousand vipers.

"This needs to finish NOW!" He thundered. "Richard Castle is becoming a massive pain in my ass. Going after Victoria Gates, Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito haven't worked and that petrol bomb was a juvenile punk ass trick. You killed the wrong person."

"How the hell do you propose I get to Richard Castle himself?" the seated figure exclaimed. "He's around cops twenty four seven and lives in a building with twenty four seven security with more cameras than the damn Pentagon. I haven't got the resources to make a proper go at getting to him. I have a nine to five job and an image to protect too! You want to be secretive about this? You've got to be realistic, give me time."

"I've given you time!" the figure at the bar snapped. "The republican party nomination race is getting serious and my rivals are dropping out one by one. I want to be the one facing Obama in November and Richard Castle is the one person who can screw that all up for me. Get rid of him and Kate Beckett, if you can 'manage it' and then you can get back to your nine to five job and 'maintain your image.'"

"He knows it's us, you know. He knows who we are," the seated figure revealed.

"HOW?" the bar figure thundered. "How the hell does Richard Castle know who we are? There's no evidence!"

"Well there must be some out there somewhere because when I rang him yesterday. He said 'tell Robinson I'm voting democrat at the next election."

The figure at the bar paled in the dim light. "Jesus Christ," he cussed. "Halstead must have let something slip to those feds who came poking about."

"Halstead hasn't said shit. I've made sure of that he gets regular reminders to keep his trap shut," the seated figure declared. "I'm sure of that."

"What you're sure of could fill a thimble!" came the sarcastic reply. "Christ, I've never had a more bumbling 2IC in my life."

"Lay off!" the seated figure snapped. "I'm the only one who's still alive, in case you've noticed everyone else is dead. If you want to shut the right people up, keep the status quo."

"I've got no fucking choice, have I?" the bar figure snapped. "Christ, we've got to move. This time we move together, this time no stone goes unturned. Got it?"

"Got it."

Kate remained resolutely silent to Rick, Ryan and Esposito's attempts at reconciliation which pulled Rick deeper into his depression. He began missing days at the precinct because he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed and hadn't opened his laptop to write in over a week. He now had a more than a significant five o'clock shadow and to make matters worse the gossip media had picked up on the fact the Writer and his Muse hadn't been seen in public for nearly two weeks and even commented on his gaunt and sickly appearance on the one occasion he had been seen in public wildly speculating he was suffering from cancer.

"Oh what a load of horse shit!" The Writer now Special Agent bellowed one morning as he and Frank shared breakfast in the suite. "I do not have cancer!"

"You can't blame them for thinking so, Ricky. You have dark bags under your eyes and starting to get cheekbones like Ron Moss," Frank shared as he sliced a rasher of bacon. "In my opinion you do look like a cancer patient, I just have more tact than to declare it publicly. You're not eating properly and you're suffering because of it. You have to be hungry. I'm sure there are jockeys riding at Aqueduct today who look less gaunt than you do."

"Oh don't exaggerate," Rick snapped. "What a load of cr-"

"It's not a load of crap, Ricky. You're really starting to look unhealthy," Frank said mildly. "Your mother took me aside at dinner the other night and expressed concern. And I can tell Alexis is worried about you, though she's too nice to say anything overt."

Rick remained silent.

"More and more people are getting concerned about you, Ricky. Don't let yourself go," Frank pleaded with his friend. "I need you up to scratch for this case. I know you're in a bad place but you need to rise above it for just a little longer. We've got definitive proof those phone calls are coming from NYPD headquarters and have the bug and secluded cameras on Hargraves phone extension the minute the calls you get correlate with the traffic from his office we move. And not that I'm up myself or anything, but I'm the best damn interrogator at the Bureau. We get that asshole in the interrogation room alone I'll have him singing like a canary in five minutes. He's the 2IC and as a cop he knows if he went to jail he'd be someone's bitch within an hour and to get into protective custody he'd give up Robinson in an instant. Like all bullies we get him alone and he'll crumble like the Berlin Wall."

"I hope so," Rick answered with a heavy sigh. "I really hope so."

"Just trust me pal, if I didn't think we had any chance, I would say so. But we do, so get ready. We'll get a result within the week. I know we will."

"Hmm."

For two days straight 'The Caller' as the feds has christened him remained silent and this in turn allowed Rick to relax a little. He started shaving and eating properly again and even went back to the gym, sparring with Frank and even Jane Karpowski who was coming off a difficult case herself.

"Y'you're w-worse than Beck-kett!" the older female detective heaved after they ended their sparring session. "Well played, I couldn't get a hit in."

Rick got up and held his hand out to the older woman. "I've been taught w-well," he puffed, helping his colleague to his feet. "I'm q-quicker on m-m'feet because of working out w-with K-kate."

"So she hasn't been in touch yet?" Karpowski asked cautiously.

"Nah, not yet," Rick replied with a sigh as he grasped his water bottle from a nearby ledge. "The longer she goes on not talking to me, the more I think it's going to stay that way."

"Since then have you been Mr Pessimistic?" Karpowski asked in surprise. "Since you came to the bullpen all those years ago, you're the one to do all the cheering up. It's weird having the shoe on the other foot."

"Yeah well..."

"Think about it this way," Karpowski went on. "Each day Beckett doesn't talk to you, is one closer to the day she does. I tell my kids all the time the glass may look half empty but try and imagine it half full. Things never as bad as they first seem."

"Yeah, I'll give it a go," Rick replied with a small smile. "Thanks for the buck up."

"Anytime, Writer Boy."

Rick made his way to the showers and scrubbed himself clean under a hot shower before dressing in a smart casual suit and heading back upstairs to the bullpen.

"Hey, feeling any bedder?" Ryan asked as his friend as he passed his desk.

"Yeah tons," Rick replied, dropping into his chair and kicking his bag under his desk. "It was good to belt the shit out of a bag. I haven't done it since before Kat-well in a while."

"She hasn't run' you yed?"

"Nah, not even a text," Rick replied with a heavy sigh. "I talked to Jim this morning though and he said he's constantly trying to get her to talk to me, you and Espo."

"She'll come around evendually dude," Ryan assured his friend. "This is Kate Begged we're talking about, out of all of us she's the least likely to hold a grudge."

"Hmm."

It was a quiet day in the bullpen for both the NYPD and FBI, officers for both agencies milled about the department floor, quietly going about their business. 'The Caller' didn't attempt to contact Rick for a third day running and the Writer/Special Agent relaxed somewhat losing himself in the paperwork for the Hector Martinez case, eventually though the end of shift came and he began packing up his paperwork.

"I'm going to head across to Angelo's for a latte, you two interested? My shout." Rick called over to Ryan and Esposito.

"Sure, if it's your shout not going to say no," Esposito agreed. "Give me a minute and I'll come with you."

"Javier, I don't need an escort. Angelo's is only across the road, you can see it from the department window!" Rick exclaimed, pointing to the large window that looked over East twenty first street. "I'm going anyway whether you come with me or not. What's the likelihood of being kidnapped? He scoffed. "Besides I have a gun I'll be fine."

"Well if you're sure."

"I am."

Rick finished packing up his desk then pocketed his phone, checked his gun and left the bullpen making his way down to East Twenty First Street and across the road to Angelo's where he was greeted enthusiastically by Antonio the store owner.

"Heeeey Ricky, how's it doing pal?' he greeted the Writer enthusiastically. "What's the order?"

"Grande full fat hazelnut vanilla latte for Ryan, a grande double shot skinny vanilla latte for Espo and a Grande double shot, two sugars Hazelnut creamer for me," Rick replied with a grin as he took a note and his loyalty card from within his wallet. "How's business?"

"Ticking along, ticking along," the Barista replied as he began making his most regular customer his usual order. "How's Kate?"

Rick smiled putting on a false front.

"She's great, she's got the flu and is taking some sick leave so I'm working with Honey Milk and McChucklenuts at the moment."

"I knew that shit in the post was a load of crap," Antonio shared, making a face as he extracted some coffee into a sixteen ounce cup. "You and Kate are tight as a drum. Esposito was in here last week with Ryan and they asked if I was interested in going into the precinct pool that bets when you'll pop the question to the gorgeous detective."

Rick rolled his eyes. "I'm having words with those two douches," he said in amusement. "Been bitten twice before pal, it'll be a while before I pop the question. But know this, if I was going to pop the question to anyone again, it would be to Kate."

Antonio laughed heartily. "I knew that the minute you started at the precinct," he declared. "You've been besotted with that girl from the get go."

"That obvious, huh?" Rick replied with a chuckle.

"Yeah, that obvious."

Rick paid for the three coffees and left the coffee shop a few minutes later, the late afternoon sun warming his body and lifting his mood. Whistling a formless tune through his teeth he suddenly remembered the bag of coffee beans he had intended on bringing into the bullpen that morning and detoured to the precinct building parking garage, heading toward the dark blue Jaguar sedan he had hired til he purchased a new Ferrari. He rested the cup carrier on the trunk then unlocked the passenger side door, clicking his tongue in a random rhythm.

From a secluded spot in the parking garage out of view, the dark figure watched The Writer's activity with close interest, his weapon in hand and ready to pounce at a moment's notice. He couldn't actually believe he had been reduced to the role of a shit kicker! He held rank for chrissakes! What he had been reduced to doing was beneath his role in the scheme and he would make sure it never happened again.

Over at the Jaguar, Rick snatched up the string bag containing the three bags of coffee beans and slung it over his left elbow. He then shut the door and made his bay back to the trunk of the car where the coffee cradle sat. Just as he reached for the cardboard contraption he saw a dark masked figure rush at him. Then there was an excruciating crushing pain on the back of his head before blackness enveloped him.

A/N2: DA DA ! CLIFFIE! LMAO! Remember reviews feed the beast peoples! **Grins**