Her face crumpled; her hand came up and made a fist over her mother's card, pressed it to her chest. Castle hooked his good arm around her neck and pulled her against him, his lips to her temple.

"My mother-" she choked.

"Okay, okay," he murmured, not knowing what to say, knowing only that it was too much. It had been too much for the last six months, hounded out of the NYPD only to take up with the FBI in a job she wasn't sure she wanted. "We'll figure this out, Kate. Don't lose sight of the truth."

"What *is* the truth, Castle?" she moaned, keeping her face hidden.

"You know your mother, the woman she was, the wife and mother, the lawyer. You know her."

"Do I? Did I know anything about her? Look at how much you keep from Alexis. She doesn't even know you've been shot. What was my mother involved in, Castle? What bullet wounds was she hiding?"

Well, that was a low blow, but it made sense. Unfortunately.

"All right. Okay. You've made your point," he grumbled, but there was no heat in it. "Doesn't mean your mother's character needs to be called into question here, Kate. Protecting the people you love isn't wrong; it doesn't make your mother or me a bad person. And you know that."

She had her forehead against his good shoulder, a hand over her eyes as if she could block it all out. Her other hand was uncomfortably close to his bandaged chest, but he ignored it.

"Kate, that guy scared the shit out of me," he whispered.

She gave something like a plaintive laugh, part hilarity and part hysterics. "Me too. Scared me too." Kate straightened her spine and pulled away from him; her eyes were dry, but brittle.

"You okay?"

"We can't stay here, Castle," she said, her voice like steel. "I know you're in pain. I know we shouldn't. . .but we can't stay here where he can find us."

Castle swallowed the thick knot of dread that had tangled in him the moment he'd woken up to Kate's cold, hard voice, weapon in her hand. "I had that thought too. You - uh - you noticed how he was looking at you? He called you Katie."

She lifted concerned, troubled eyes to his. "I noticed how he was looking at *you*, Castle. When he said he wouldn't underestimate you again. Nice job, partner."

"It was - just - I don't know - instinct," he said, rubbing his hand over his chin. Actually, seeing that cold devil with his hand around Kate's throat had awakened a nasty, vengeful beast in his chest. He'd wanted, so badly, to pull the trigger on Russo. "But I don't like that he knows exactly where we are."

She shook her head. "You think you can make a flight home?"

To his shame, he felt that flicker of fear struggle up; the idea of getting back on a plane and letting the stressors of gravity and take-off push and pull at his body was less than attractive. To say the least.

Worse yet was the idea of falling asleep in his drug-induced stupor, only to wake to a gunshot. Or an empty room and no Kate.

"I can make it," he said gravely. "You want to head back to New York?"

She jerked her head in agreement, crossed her arms over her chest. "I feel exposed here, sitting around. I want back our home field advantage."

And he knew Captain Montgomery's funeral would be soon. She'd been getting text updates from Ryan about it. He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to lean into his still tender shoulder. Kate reached out to steady him, a hand at his thigh, another at his ribs.

"I'm good," he promised, but he wasn't even standing and he could already feel that wave of dizziness messing with his inner ear. Still. He pictured Russo's cold, dead eyes and managed to slide a foot to the floor.

Kate hovered close, the line creasing across her forehead as she concentrated on him. With his good hand, he reached out and smoothed his thumb over that line; it was a vein or a ligament, muscle, something. She looked at him, captured his hand, and stepped back to let him get up.

He could stand. "You wanna. . .combine our stuff? Just bring one suitcase with us on the plane. Not sure I can. . ." He gestured with his chin toward the bags on the plastic couch.

Kate looked past him, set her jaw. "Nothing I can't replace. I'll get the essentials. Got anything in there you need?"

Castle reached slowly for her left hand, squeezed her fingers until he felt her smooth ring against his palm. "Got this. All I need."

"The ring or me, Castle?" she said, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"Ring and the girl too."

"The girl?"

"Dame?"

Another eyebrow.

"Femme fatale?"

He could detect just the traces of a smile there. "And what are you, Castle? The hardboiled detective?"

"I could go for that. But classic noir is just. . .too bitter and disillusioned for my taste."

"Of course. You like magic," she said softly. She headed for the bags, and he watched her pull out her ID, his wallet and keys. She rifled through, put a few other things in a little bag, including his mother's dopey pain pills, and the balled up remnants of her wedding dress, while he leaned against the side of the hospital bed, building up his strength.

She stuffed the dress into that bag - was it a cosmetics bag in its previous life? - and pushed everything else in after it. He was amused that she couldn't leave it behind; he'd seen it when he woke. It was definitely ruined.

"Got my phone in there somewhere?" he mumbled, closing his eyes for just a moment.

The next thing he knew, Kate was nudging him. "Sorry, Rick. Time to go."

He grunted, eyes flying open, and realized he might've just had a catnap. "Yeah," he said roughly, trying to blink the lethargy out of his blood. That encounter with Russo had gotten his adrenaline going, kept him alert, but now that the immediate threat was over, he was feeling rubbery, unstuck in time and space.

If he had a blue police box. . .

Castle shook his head slightly. Definitely still on meds.

"You still got my gun, Castle?"

"Yes."

"Can you keep it on you without accidentally firing it?"

"You wound me, Detective."

"No need for that. You're already wounded, Castle."

"It's in my pants."

The look on her face was worth it.

"Your weapon, Kate. It's in my pants. Oh," he blinked and laughed. "That didn't sound any better, did it? Let's see just how naughty we can make it sound-"

"Castle," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "Just stay on my six, all right?"

"If six is a euphemism for your tail, then I am-"

Kate pinched his ear and he grinned; it wasn't the twist she usually did, so it must mean she was making concessions to his injury.

"Lead on, Kate."

She had her weapon at her side, but she was being cautious as they cleared the doorway, painstakingly cautious as they crept down the hall. Or maybe she was just going slowly in deference to his shuffling steps. "You really think he's gonna stick around to get us?"

"No," she retorted. "But if *he* found us, who else will find us?"

A chill passed over him.

Since they had just come face to face with one of his henchmen, it seemed Satan himself could find them.

Kate watched him lean back experimentally in the first class seat; he flinched but rested carefully, his eyes closed.

She'd called Lanie the moment they'd bought their tickets and settled into the waiting area. Her friend hadn't been happy about interrupting Castle's steady IV of antibiotics, but agreed that he could, since their lives were being threatened, take a flight back to New York if he went immediately to the hospital from there.

Just to make sure her stubborn partner got the message, Kate had made Castle listen to Lanie's diatribe over checking out AMA, a full twenty-six minute rant about the dangers of interfering with treatment. Kate had taken the phone back when Castle's face looked sufficiently humbled.

Then Lanie had warned her to be vigilant about signs of shock: rapid heart rate, confusion, loss of consciousness, poor circulation, clammy skin, sweating, shallow respiration. If he looked like he was going into shock, she should get the flight attendant immediately; the plane would make a quick landing for a medical emergency.

Kate was trying not to think about that. She was watching Castle like a hawk, but so far half the signs of shock were there just because he was dealing with the newly awakened pain throbbing through his shoulder.

The stress of this flight alone might kill her, if it didn't kill him first.

After a moment, Castle's eyes slowly opened, focused. He turned his head to her and lifted his hand, his injured arm once more tightly bound to his side. Kate grabbed his hand and couldn't help kissing his knuckles, overwhelmed at the thought of losing him. Again.

"I'm good," he said. His voice had an edge to it she didn't like.

"You're good."

"Soon as the plane takes off. . .gonna have to lay down," he said. He hissed through a breath and blinked.

"Castle-"

"I'm good, Kate. Just - just acclimating myself to it." She could see his nostrils flare and then his eyes opened. She knew it was costing him, but he was trying to reassure her.

She unbuckled her seat belt and rose to her knees so she could lean over him. She studied his lined face until his eyes flickered open, then she pressed soft, feathery kisses to his cheeks, his eyebrows, the turned down corners of his mouth. "I love you," she whispered against his skin. "Tell me when it gets too bad."

"Nothing you can do," he said softly back. Just the thought of Castle suffering in silence, when that was just not Castle at all, when he liked to be the center of attention and moan and be a baby about it. It filled her chest with an ache so fierce she couldn't breathe.

Kate returned to his mouth, hunched over him in the seat, a hand on the window for balance. From some distance, she knew people were boarding the plane still, were gawking at her, but she needed him to know, needed him. Period.

Kate softly tugged on his lip with her teeth, came back to capture his mouth, sweep along his teeth with her tongue. He groaned softly and she broke the kiss with a grin.

"Nothing I can do?" she whispered, her words light and airy between them.

His finger hooked in her belt loop, keeping her there for a moment.

"I amend that statement," he said back, his eyes opening slowly. "Soon as we get in the air, you're gonna have to keep that up all flight long."

She grinned back at him. "Really? You're in a terrible amount of pain, then?"

"Terrible," he agreed. But she saw something in the back of his eyes; he was afraid. Of what? How much worse the pain could get, or something else?

"You're gonna be ok, Castle," she said gently, lifting her hand to stroke the side of his face with her fingers, brushing the hair at his temple.

"Not me I'm worried about," he said. He tugged on her jeans. "Keep your eyes open, Beckett."

She nodded back once, then quirked an eyebrow at him. "Isn't it Castle now?"

"Isn't what Castle-" His face cleared, a stunned hesitance set up residence. "Is it? I thought-"

"I did marry you, didn't I?"

"I - uh - think you did? Yes, yes, you did," he said hastily. "Did you sign the marriage license. . .Kate Castle?"

She smothered her smile at hearing his voice crack. "No."

"Oh."

"I signed it Katherine-" she leaned in to brush her lips along his forehead. "Beckett." She hovered over his lips, breathing softly, keeping him waiting. "Castle."

"Yeah?"

She smirked. "No, Rick. I signed it Katherine Beckett Castle."