Good responses. Thank you so much everyone. But was it enough?

When Rick woke up –

Well, "woke up" is a horrible choice of words, the pounding in his skull thrummed and pulsed and hurt like a sonofabitch. It ouched him awake. Not like a hang over. No hangovers have a reason. It was cause and effect. You celebrate and party and pay the price later. This was like a mallet from a demi god crushed into his face on the rock holding Excalibur while someone did a one man rendition of Stomp! on your eyes. Then while you were out someone chiseled scars in the shape of penis' like some frat house prank from a torture porn movie and –

Fuck

It throbbed again. It. He didn't know what else to call it. Hell week was hard no doubt but that was all mental. Yes you ran, swam, shot and crawled but you had the guy next to you and going through the same damn thing with just as little sleepand just as much shit as you and damnit you wanted to cry and give up but this was the test. And that was the point. They were testing you. They wouldn't let you die. They encouraged you and hurt in places you didn't know you had but they wanted to get all the bullshit out. See if you got the steel to keep fighting when there was no reasonable reason for you to keep fighting.

Getting his degree, his masters at an ivy league school, was tough but different. It was just him slaying away. Pleading for accelerated courses and convincing administrative types that he could handle it. Handle it he did and he joined the academy.

That was a cake walk. Running. Obstacle courses. Shooting. Classes. Blah blah blah. He got enough sleep at nights to make up for time lost doing college and his time in Spec Ops. Being a cop was a lot easier, you didn't get shot at as and you had to write a whole shit load less.

He'd take any day in the academy over his face feeling like that of a pug.

The blur was the worst part. He could admit he got beat because of the obvious pain in his head from the surprise attack. Admit he got what he served from the blood that was drying from the punch from Kate after basically calling her a whore (a slip of the tongue in the heat of anger that he would regret once he had the time to regret it) but hehated the blur because it wouldn't go away. It was like something had been knocked loose in his head. A retina or perhaps a screw. The stars that could orbit around his head after the wallop had been knocked out of orbit.

He shook his head slowly in some sort of self-diagnosis to fix and focus and find out where he was. Then he saw the felt. Poker table felt.

Then he saw the figures across from him which he quickly recognized as Kate and Alex bound and gagged.

He motioned to stand and free them but constrained himself.

A single light beamed down from above and it took Rick some time before he realized he was back at the loft. A few blinks of the eye to gain further focus and he spotted a red light about three feet off the ground and then a silhouette of a camera.

They were being recorded.

"It's common when realizing your current state to panic. To fight back. I would advise against that."

Rick heard a woman's muffled scream. He turned to face the sound to his left and it was Johanna. Her red, wide eyes pleading for him to do something. A glint of light caught his eyes quickly and he noticed a knife beneath her throat.

Johanna was tied up as well and short of a Houdini reenactment wasn't going anywhere.

The lighting now becoming more apparent and the situation like that of a prisoner of war he followed instruction. Rick fought through the pain in his face head to determine it was being staged. All of it. The theatrical nature of it all made him want to throw up. The perverse setup like he was in some snuff film.

He heard the sound of foot steps and saw the gauzed hands that had clobbered his face lay a gun on the table.

It was a silver .9 mm bull barrel Berreta. Ramped front and fixed rear sight with nine mag clip capacity plus one. The handle had been customized for a fitted grip indicating someone of some practice was the previous owner or at least someone knowledgeable or enthusiastic enough to pursue the capability such a feature provides.

Then the most unlikely thing occurred. The hooded man, made hard to see by the lighting above, walked behind Rick and cut free one hand. The gun just slightly out of reach! If he moved fast enough he could –

"Ah ah ah"

The knife was placed flat side to Rick's throat.

"If you think you can move fast enough to grab, turn and shoot me before I can gut mummy dearest like a stock pig then go ahead and be a hero."

Sure Rick was likely fast enough. But his face and eyesight had been damaged and he wasn't sure he could get an accurate shot off.

The killer leaned in.

"It would be an interesting exercise in your skillset but alas, that is not why you are here."

Footsteps were heard going away and Rick grabbed the gun and the movement of his body alone let his vision tumble and he knew there was no way he could get a shot off accurately.

So now what? One free hand with a gun. Video camera and Kate Beckett opposite him. Her son just to her left. The two of them stirring slowly gaining consciousness.

The killer began talking.

"You see when I was a child I was told I had demons inside me. The voices were the devil. That if I prayed hard enough and gave myself to the Lord I would be free."

Kate moaned, wincing her eyes and motioning to try and move her body.

"You can imagine my surprise though when I killed my own mother and the voices stopped."

Rick got the sudden sense that this man was most definitely not afraid to turn Johanna into a pin cushion.

"Turns out it was all just a bunch of chemicals in the brain. The occipital and auditory regions of the brain are overloaded. So much that they just make shit up! Combine with an immature development of the 'moral center' of the brain, beit genetic or environmental, all kind of lead up to this perfect storm. I really don't stand a chance. Life is just period of waiting to the next kill."

Kate's eyes began to open. She noticed Rick and the table and her son and the lighting and her mother and everything else and began trying to wiggle out of her constraints.

"I originally was going to have Kate make the choice. Mum or kid. You see since she seemed to love writing about murder so much I thought I'd give her a chance to experience it first hand. Not the sloppy seconds. Not the crime scene after. But – but – but the release!"

Richard felt the killer become anxious. He visualized the knife in his hand shaking in anticipation.

"The knowledge and the feeling of ending another persons life. To sending them on to whatever is next. Then something interesting happened Mr. Castle. I read about her following you."

Alex was awake now.

"I saw your file. Graduated Cum Laude. Marine Recon. Football stud. Tragic thing about your father. Sounds like he was set up. Like an inside job if you ask me."

Richard hadn't thought about the case that way. In his time investigating he had trusted the sources of the document and just relied on the techniques he had learned from experience and the academy.

Perhaps an angle he could pursue when he – wait – was that what Kate was trying to tell him?

Kate began screaming through her gag and seemed to begin begging.

"So I'll have to come up with something new for her. But for now…"

The sentence was left hanging.

Richard looked at the gun in his hand and saw the two people in front of him.

"I'm giving you the chance to complete my masterpiece. You have to choose. The mother or her son."

The gun shook in his hand. He thought about one of the last things he said to Kate.

One. More. Time.

The gun raised and pointed to Kate. It was an outsiders preference. No one should have to see their child die before they do. It was a diastopic answer. Sacrifice the few for the many kind of response but his arm couldn't hold the aim for long as a twinkle of feelings for her took hold.

Somewhere deep inside he still wanted to be with her. To be with her. With her.

There was no anziety thinking about now. Perhaps it was numb face or the adrenaline but his sins, the womanizing, the people he'd killed in the name of country or on the force were put to the back burner.

He saw Alex.

The idea of even pointing the gun in his direction froze him. He couldn't shoot the kid. It wasn't an option.

"Don't be a hero detective. Mummy dearest here will pay the price if you do."

Then a sharp squeal from Johanna let Rick know he meant business.

Rick laughed. A low chuckle. He was fucked but he had this.

"You know," Rick started, "It's a shame you got the jump on me."

The killer was silent.

Rick still tied to the chair and left hand bound he continued.

"But even with all the preparation and delusional thinking I know how to get out of this."

The killer grew edgy, "I'm warning you detective!"

"I've made my choice." Rick looked to Kate. She began shaking her head. Pleading him not to do it. Not to choose. To wait. In someway something was going to happen. Something was going to change scenario. A SWAT team through the windows. The killer would have a heart attack. A deus ex machine of some kind.

"When I get to Hell I'll tell 'em the Tooth Fairy sent me and I kicked your ass with one hand tied behind my back."

Rick put the gun to his own temple and pulled the trigger.

See what happens when you don't leave a review! You see!

Bwahahahahaha

Because it'll be a few days before I finish the last chapter then set up season two I'll let you know that he doesn't die.

YET!

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *COUGH* AHAHAHAH *COUGH* *COUGH*

Ah damn where's my cigarettes?

And yes I've decided I will do a season two. Is there a few episodes you'd like me to touch on? Few cases perhaps?