Author's note: Dates in this fic are deduced from canon where possible, in particular following the rule that the story of each episode ends on the day it was first broadcast unless there is a reason to think otherwise. Notably, the events of 3x24 "Knockdown" up to Montgomery's death span at least five days, and so the story as a whole must span more than a week. Thus the stories of 3x23 and 3x24 cannot both end on their original broadcast dates (9/16 May 2011). Therefore this fic has Montgomery's funeral on 20 May.

This is a less analytical chapter that explains how we got to the start of this fic. I think I'm not very good at writing personal conversations, but I hope this chapter at least succeeds in indicating why in this AU both Castle and Beckett are psychologically in a better place at the end of summer 2011 (the start of this fic) than they are in canon. There is some limited discussion of the case, but no more detailed analysis until the next chapter.

Chapter 3

Flashback: Interventions

Friday 20 May 2011

"Stop it, all of you! Just stop it." Jim Beckett stepped between Castle and Josh. "I won't have you acting like three year olds while my daughter is fighting for her life."

Beckett was still in surgery, her very survival uncertain, after having been shot by a sniper while giving Captain Montgomery's eulogy. Dr Josh Davidson, her boyfriend, had been forced to begin the task of saving her life, relinquishing it only when another thoracic surgeon had arrived to take over. He had emerged angrily into the waiting area and shoved Castle against the wall, accusing him of being responsible for Montgomery's death and Beckett's shooting through pushing her towards re-opening her mother's case. Castle had been on the verge of lashing back until Alexis restrained him and Beckett's father had intervened.

Josh glared at Castle over Jim's shoulder and stalked off down the corridor. Castle sank into a chair and stared at the floor.

"He's right, you know. This is my fault."

"No, it isn't, Rick." said Jim, his voice free of the anger he had shown only a moment before. "Don't blame yourself. You are not the one that shot her."

"No. But I put her in the crosshairs," said Castle.

Jim sat down next to Castle. "Rick, after I talked to you, you tried to get her to back off, didn't you?" Jim had met Castle for the first time during the hunt for Lockwood, asking him to convince her to stop investigating and put her own life ahead of solving her mother's murder.

"She wouldn't listen... because I lost my temper. I got angry and accused her of being afraid to find out who she was without her— without your wife's case. If I had just—"

"I don't believe you," said Jim simply.

Castle jerked his head up, meeting Jim's eyes.

"Knowing Katie, I expect she didn't listen and because of that, you lost your temper. Or at least that's part of it. I know how stubborn she can be. It's something she inherited from her mother." He put his hand on Castle's shoulder. "I came to you because I knew you were the one person who had a chance of persuading her."

"But I—"

"You didn't manage to persuade her. Join the club." Jim closed his eyes. "And then you saved her when Montgomery died. Katie refuses to tell me what happened, but she said you saved her life." He opened his eyes again and held Castle's gaze. "And I just watched you come close to taking a bullet for her." There were tears in his eyes.

"I just wish I had moved sooner..." Castle shook his head. "I saw the sunlight glinting and I knew what it was. I knew it. But I just hesitated. Part of me just didn't believe that anyone could be so... so barbaric as to try that at a funeral." He spit the words out. "So that's why your daughter is in there, Jim, because I couldn't believe that anyone would stoop so low — because, despite all the prior evidence, when the moment came I refused to accept that whoever is behind this had absolutely no standards." Tears were welling up in his own eyes.

"Rick, you were the only one — in a crowd of cops — who saw or did anything. You tried to save my daughter's life, at considerable risk to your own, and for that you have my eternal thanks. I don't think this was your fault, and I know Katie won't either. It might take a while, but I hope you'll come to understand that too."

Castle looked down at the floor again, wiping his eyes. "How can you— I mean, she's— and you're trying to comfort me."

"Just do me a favor, Rick."

"Anything."

"Hold on to that hatred you're feeling for the bastards that did this. Use it. Use it to find them."

Friday 15 July 2011

Kate looked up from her book as her father opened the door of the cabin. "Hey, Dad. How was the drive up?"

Jim hugged Kate. "Surprisingly quick. I must've caught a lull in the traffic."

After the initial period of her bed rest at the hospital had ended, Kate and Jim had headed for the family's cabin. The peace and quiet had been conducive to Beckett's recovery. Initially, Jim had had to wait on her hand and foot, even physically support her as she walked across the room. But Kate had been in superb physical condition before her shooting, and her strength had already started to return.

Kate nodded. "Are you hungry? I know it's only four, but I was just about to make some food. My appetite is definitely getting better."

"Good to hear, Katie," said Jim. "And sure, I'll eat too. But listen..." He trailed off.

"What?"

There was a long pause before Jim spoke again.

"I think you should call Rick. Maybe even invite him to visit."

Beckett almost dropped her book. "Dad, no... I'm not ready—"

Jim cut her off. "Katie, the man looks like he is about to collapse."

"What? Why? Did you see him?"

"I stopped by the precinct again, just to let your friends know you were recovering well. They all send their best wishes. Javier and Kevin looked tired, but Rick looked... exhausted. Beyond exhausted. And he's lost a lot of weight." He paused. "Katie, remember in the hospital, the first day you could get out of bed? You recoiled at how sick you looked when you saw yourself in the mirror."

"Yeah..."

"Well, Rick looks a lot worse now."

"W-what happened?"

"According to Kevin, he was working around the clock on your case, not really sleeping, just taking naps on a couch in the precinct and showering there. Eventually, the acting captain barred him from spending more that ten hours each day at the precinct, but Kevin thought he was working on the case at home as well. He gave me Rick's mother's number and I spoke to her. She sounded frantic with worry. She said that she has never seen him like this. Even when he's at home, he misses meals and barely sleeps. Apparently he finished the new Nikki Heat book way ahead of schedule, just to fulfill his contractual obligations so he had no distractions from the case. He's driving himself into the ground, Katie."

Kate said nothing, but her breathing was ragged.

"And it might be my doing," said Jim quietly.

"How—"

"At the hospital, while you were in surgery, he was taking it badly, blaming himself. I talked him down, and I asked him to hold on to the hatred he was obviously feeling for whoever was responsible, and to channel it into finding them. I think it helped him then, but it's harming him now. I would talk to him again if I thought it would help. But his own family haven't been able to talk him out of this. Neither have Kevin or Javier. So I don't think I can. The way I see it, the one thing that might stop him is talking to you." Jim paused. "If you won't see him, will you at least call him?"

"Dad, I'm sorry, I don't know if I..." she trailed off.

Jim sighed. "Katie, I'm not going to push you on this. I know seeing him again or talking to him might be difficult... Just think about it. I know he's been there for you in the past. I think you need to be there for him now."

Monday 18 July 2011

Castle answered his cellphone, not taking his eyes off the files on the table in the conference room. "Castle."

Silence.

"Hello?" He took the phone from his ear and looked at the caller ID. "Beckett?"

"Hey, Castle." Her voice was unsteady.

"Kate, are you all right?"

There was a sound half-way between a sob and a laugh. "Castle..." she whispered. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"I didn't call for weeks. I must've hurt you... and your first reaction was to ask if I was all right."

Castle pinched the bridge of his nose. "Beckett... I'm not going to deny that I wish you had called earlier. And I am... not exactly angry, but I am bitter. You said you'd call. I know you didn't give a time-frame, but it's been eight weeks."

When Beckett had regained consciousness after her shooting, Castle had visited her in the hospital and learned that she had no memory of the shooting itself or his declaration of love as he begged her to stay with him. Beckett had indicated that she needed some time and, seemingly not knowing how long, had simply said she would call him.

"I'm sorry, Castle. I... look, I couldn't call you," she said shakily. "Not without dragging myself into everything that I was just trying to get some space from. I needed some time to just work through everything."

"Josh help you with that?" he asked bluntly.

"We broke up," said Beckett with a tone of surprise. "I thought—"

Castle sat upright. "You did?"

"I thought my dad had told— I thought you knew. It was a couple of weeks after we talked at the hospital, as I came off medication. My dad told me what he said to you. That would have been enough for me to break it off, but it had been coming anyway. I really, really liked him... but that wasn't enough."

Castle was silent for a moment. "You didn't tell me if you were all right."

"I'm getting better. It's been slow. My dad's been helping me... I'm staying at his cabin. He was here with me all the time until last week; now he's going back to the city to work part-time, three days each week."

"I know. He came to the 12th last Thursday to tell us you were recovering well."

"He told me." Beckett took a deep breath. "He also... suggested that I call you... and invite you to visit."

"I see..." said Castle uncertainly. There was a moment of silence.

"So?"

"You only said your dad—" He broke off. "Are actually inviting me?"

"Do I need to spell it out?" asked Beckett, with a touch of acerbity.

Castle smiled. "Apparently, yes. When?"

"You sound like you want to leave right now."

"And would that be...?"

"Fine with me," said Beckett hurriedly.

"How long is the drive?"

"Maybe five hours? Longer if traffic in the city is bad."

Castle checked the time. 17:45. He sighed. "I want to leave now, but... Beckett, I'm actually tired. I'm not sure I can drive safely for that length of time. How about I come up tomorrow? Aim to arrive about lunchtime?"

"That's fine. I'll text you the address."

"Thanks. And Beckett... it was good to hear your voice." He smiled again.

"Good to hear yours too, actually. So, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Castle hung up, rose, and stretched. He noted where he was in the files, re-packed them into the boxes, then walked out to the bullpen. "Hey, guys, I'm heading home."

Ryan and Esposito looked up.

"Already, bro?" asked Esposito. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah, what's up, Castle?" said Ryan. "You've not been leaving until somebody forces you."

"Beckett called," said Castle. "She invited me to visit her at her dad's cabin. I'm going relax a bit and get an early night so I can drive up early tomorrow." Ryan and Esposito's eyebrows had risen simultaneously as he spoke.

"Yeah, well, tell her we said hi," said Ryan.

"And help her out. She'll have needs," said Esposito, suggestively.

Castle seemed to completely miss his meaning. "Will do." He smiled. "Have a good one." He turned and walked to the elevator.

Ryan and Esposito looked at each other.

"Wow. He was smiling. Really smiling," said Esposito.

"And he's actually going to sleep," Ryan shook his head. "Unbelievable."

Tuesday 19 July 2011

Castle's cellphone sounded. He woke with a flail, then groggily grabbed it from the nightstand and fumbled to accept the call. "Castle."

"Castle? Is everything okay?"

"Beckett? Sure, everything's fine... Why'd you call?"

"Castle, it's two in the afternoon," said Beckett pointedly. "I kind of thought you'd be here by now, or at least have let me know if you were delayed... but it sounds like you just woke up."

"Two..." he repeated dully, rubbing his eyes and looking at the time. "Uh, wow. I must have slept sixteen hours straight."

"Well, you did say you were tired..." said Beckett. "Wait until tomorrow to come?"

"Uh... no, no. Look, I need to shower and get some food and coffee. I'll be on the road in thirty minutes. Text you with updates?"

"Sure, Castle. See you tonight."

Beckett's phone chirped a regular half-hourly series of progress reports plotting Castle's progress from Manhattan to the cabin, until she heard the crunch of gravel as a car pulled up outside. Through the window, she saw Castle swing himself out of a silver Mercedes, stretch his shoulders and legs, and slowly look around the woods surrounding the cabin. He lifted a small duffel bag out of the back seat and turned back to the cabin just as Beckett opened the door.

"Hey, Castle," she said, looking him over.

"Beckett! You look... vastly better than the last time I saw you, but... tired?"

"I look tired? Castle, you look like a wreck."

"A ruggedly handsome wreck, of course," he said, with a grin.

"No, Castle. A well-dressed wreck, but you look too physically drained to possibly be called handsome, let alone ruggedly so. And you're clearly already exhausted. After having been awake for... what? Less than six hours?"

"Well, I pulled some late nights, working."

"So I heard."

"Who—"

"Ryan and Martha, via my dad."

"Look, Beckett—"

"First of all, come in and sit down before you fall down," said Beckett. "I'll get you a coffee... which I am perfectly capable of doing by myself." She forestalled his protest. "I still need to rest a lot, but I've been preparing food and drink for a while now."

Castle lowered himself onto the couch, wincing slightly, without taking his eyes off Beckett. She moved slowly and carefully, without difficulty, but with none of her usual confident grace.

She brought him a coffee, letting him stretch up to take it instead of bending down herself, then fetched one for herself and carefully sat.

"So, Castle," she smiled at him. "I thought I could focus too hard on a case. Sounds like you're just as bad."

Castle huffed. "I'm sure that my mother and Ryan were exaggerating."

"I can see with my own eyes that they weren't. You've lost weight. And like I said, you're exhausted... Okay, Castle, answer me this: before last night, when did you last sleep for more than a few hours straight? Honestly?"

Castle stared into his coffee. Beckett waited. He looked up at her again.

"The night before the funeral."

"And how many proper meals have you had since then?"

Silence.

"So for more than eight weeks, you haven't been eating or sleeping properly."

"Beckett, the case—"

"Castle, I know," said Beckett gently. "I've been there. When I first joined the NYPD and started looking into my mom's case, I drove myself like this. I came close to... Look, Montgomery — he was still a lieutenant then — took me aside and told me I was in danger of impairing my abilities and failing my physical evaluation. He warned me before he had to do anything official, but he made me back off. I still couldn't leave my mother's case — that came later — but I forced myself to eat and sleep normally. Well, normally for a cop, as least."

Castle shook his head slightly. "I..." He paused and and took and breath and started again. "In the hospital, while you were in surgery and we were waiting, I was wallowing in self-pity, blaming myself. Your dad talked me out of it, and I told him about the moment when I saw the glint of the sniper rifle, and how I hesitated before moving because I couldn't believe—" He cut himself off as the anger built in his voice, and ground his teeth for a moment. "Your dad told me to direct my hatred into finding them." He paused, lips pressed together, taking shuddering breaths through his nose. "And that has been driving me ever since."

Beckett reached out and put her hand on his knee. "Castle... Rick, I understand. I really think I do. I wouldn't say what happened to me was exactly the same, and it was definitely more gradual for me, but I think the parallel is close enough that I can really understand." She paused, looking straight at him. "And just as Montgomery told me I had to slow down and get under control, I, as your partner, am telling you that you have to do the same."

Castle shook his head, refusing to meet Beckett's eyes. "I'm not sure I can," he whispered.

"You can. I need you to," said Beckett quietly. That got his attention; his eyes snapped up to look at her. "I'm still recovering, but in another couple of months, I'll go back to work. I want my partner with me. I need you recovered too."

Castle sat in silence for a minute. "I'll try. I can't promise."

"That's a good place to start," said Beckett, nodding. "All right. Here's what we'll do for now. You go unpack — that's the door to your room." She pointed. "I'm going to heat up mac 'n' cheese for dinner. There's a couple of bottles of wine left from my last visit here, if you think a drink would help you relax. Then we'll go to bed early."

Castle nodded. "Okay. But at least let me help with a salad or something..." He trailed off as he saw Beckett looking at him with raised eyebrows. "What?"

"If you really need to be convinced that you're not yourself right now, think about what just happened," said Beckett.

Castle frowned in thought.

"I said 'we'll go to bed early', and you completely missed it," explained Beckett, smirking.

Castle brightened. "Oh, so that's why you need us both to recover. So we can go to bed."

"In your dreams."

"And there's my motivation for sleeping more. You're a very persuasive woman, Detective Beckett."

Wednesday 20 July 2011

Castle awoke gradually, blinking at the sunlight hitting his face. He stretched and winced slightly before levering himself out of bed and opening the bedroom door.

"Morning, Castle," Beckett said, looking up with a smile. "Only twelve hours this time."

Castle just looked at her. "What?"

"It's almost ten. You went to bed — at least you went to your room — a few minutes after ten last night."

"No wonder I feel stiff. Between sleeping and driving, I haven't moved much in the last forty hours or so." He shook his head. "Good morning, by the way."

"So you slept well?"

"Like the proverbial log."

"Pretty cliché for a bestselling writer, Castle."

"I just woke up. I'm off my game."

"Assuming you had any 'game' to begin with," said Beckett with a grin. "I had a light breakfast earlier, but I can make brunch for us while you shower. Go."

Morning ablutions completed, Castle returned just as Beckett was setting out plates of bacon and eggs, fresh fruit, glasses of orange juice, cups of coffee, and a rack of toast.

"Quite the feast, Beckett, thank you. Have you been doing this for yourself as well?"

"Usually just eggs and toast right now."

Like dinner the previous night, breakfast was slow and comfortable and the conversation light. Only at the end of the meal, when they retired to the couch with two more coffees, did the talk become more serious.

"So, Beckett... how are you really? I mean, you look much better, but..." He waved his hand in place of fully articulating his thought.

"Really, Castle, I am much better. The beginning was the worst. Just walking to the bathroom exhausted me. I couldn't stay on my feet for more than a couple of minutes. I had to sleep a lot and my appetite wasn't great. But about a couple of weeks ago, I reached a kind of critical point where there was positive feedback. Every day I would feel stronger and I could walk further and do more and I wanted to eat more. I started regaining muscle mass. I still need to rest a lot and take a couple of naps every day, but I'm definitely past the worst."

Castle looked at her for a moment. "So physically you are recovering well."

Beckett bit her lip. "I still have nightmares. Not as many as before. They vary a lot, but they mostly involve me being shot — not just at the cemetery, but anywhere — or being in the ambulance or on the operating table."

"Oh, shit, Kate, you don't mean that—"

"I don't... I have some... not exactly memories, but impressions of being in the ambulance and of being operated on."

Castle put a hand over his mouth and looked sick.

"I don't know if my 'impressions' are based on actual experience, or if my mind just... constructed them."

"Either way... I can't imagine..." Castle shook his head.

"I was actually worried that seeing you — or even just talking to you — would trigger more nightmares, because I remember... one of the last things I remember is the part of my speech where I spoke about finding 'someone to stand with you', and I looked at you. Yours is the last face I remember seeing."

"And did you have a nightmare last night? Or the night before?"

"Actually, no. Despite my worries, nothing happened. Maybe it's because even my subconscious realized you needed help." Beckett smiled. "I suppose it's true that 'by protecting others, you save yourself'."

"I recognize that quotation!" Castle frowned in thought. "Uh, George Santayana, right?"

"Actually, it's from Seven Samurai."

"Oh, so close!" said Castle happily.

Beckett rolled her eyes, but her smile belied any annoyance. "So where are you on the case? Not a full update, please, just an outline. I'm not ready to dive in yet."

"We're getting nowhere with the sniper. No prints, no match on DNA. According to the serial number, the rifle was issued to a navy SEAL who was killed in action seven years ago on a classified mission overseas; his body was later recovered, but not the gun. Witnesses saw a guy dressed as a groundskeeper, but none of the grounds staff were in that area. Dogs caught a scent that led to the west side of the cemetery, but lost it there. There were a lot of possibilities from traffic cams, but we've tracked down the most likely ones and they definitely weren't involved. We're down to a few unlikely possibilities.

"When the investigation of the sniper started to run out of steam, we tried looking into the Lockwood's companions — the other three guys that Montgomery shot in the hangar. Trouble is, the only records we could find for them are cover IDs like Lockwood's. Clean records, credit histories that go back between six months and a year. Nothing before that. We're circulating their photographs through other law enforcement agencies and Interpol in the hope that someone might recognize them, but that line of investigation is on hold for now. Frankly, we were running out of leads, but the acting captain has been pretty good. I don't know if you know him — Will Henderson? He was due to retire, but 1PP asked him to fill in until the new captain is appointed. Anyway, he's let us keep the case on the back burner and work on it when there isn't a fresh case. And he isn't looking over our shoulders all the time, which is a good thing, because we decided we should also look into Montgomery, McCallister, and Raglan. Get their financials and see who they were in business with back in the day. But it's slooooow, because a lot of the records from the early nineties aren't 'live'. They aren't instantly accessible by computer. Some of them are on tape. Somebody actually has to get the tape from an archive and load it into a drive. We even found one set of records that now only exists on microfilm."

"Can we even read microfilm?"

"Oh, yeah, the precinct now has a microfilm reader." Castle grinned.

Beckett looked at Castle, her lips twitching. "Let me guess: you didn't like the chances of persuading Henderson to find room in the budget for it?"

"You know me better than that, Detective. Besides, it would have taken too long. I just bought one on eBay."

Monday 1 August 2011

Beckett paused on her walk as her phone rang. "Beckett."

"Hey, Beckett," said Castle. "How are things?"

"Pretty good, Castle. I'm in the middle of my walk. I'm up to over two miles a day now." She found a convenient tree to lean against. "What's up?"

"The new captain has been appointed. Victoria Gates, AKA 'Iron' Gates. She's seriously by-the-book; came up through Internal Affairs."

"Wow. That's not going to win her any popularity points."

"Yeah. Ryan says it's like she brought a distrust of cops along with her. She clearly intends keeping everyone on a short leash."

"And what does she think about you?"

"She kicked me out," said Castle flatly.

"W-what? Why?"

"Apparently her precinct's got no room for a 'dilettante writer playing cop'."

"That's what she called you?"

"I know, it's so... unimaginative!" said Castle. "Which, if you'd met her, is exactly what you'd expect from her."

"But you're not going to stand for it, Castle? You're going to call the Mayor?"

"I thought about it, but I'm not going to just yet. I need to take a break. You said you wanted me recovered when you return to work. I'm sleeping and eating better, but I think it's best if I relax for a few weeks and spend some time with Alexis. And there's something else..." Castle paused and took a deep breath. "Gates is going to shut down the investigation into your shooting."

"What—" Beckett sputtered. "Shut it down? Why?"

"Because there are no leads on the shooter or on Lockwood and his friends. Everything we had was a dead end. And we can't tell her about following the money without implicating Montgomery. The first thing she would do is have IA start investigating him. You know what that would do to Evelyn and the kids. And it would certainly splash onto you — his protégée — and probably the boys too."

Beckett closed her eyes. "Yeah, you're right. But we can't just abandon it."

"And we won't. But right now, Ryan and Esposito can't work on it with Gates breathing down their necks. So I think it's best to step away for a few weeks. Let Gates get settled in, maybe develop some degree of trust with Ryan and Esposito. Then when you come back, I'll call the Mayor and make Gates take me back, and we can take another run at it together."

"If we want to re-open the case, it would be best to at least try to get on Gates's good side so she doesn't feel the need to watch us all the time," said Beckett. "How about I ask nicely first, then you can call the Mayor if she refuses, okay?"

"Actually, maybe you could... Bob told me that there's a report somewhere showing that I've made a positive contribution to the team. The Commissioner insisted on keeping an eye on me, because he thought I would have a detrimental effect on your work." Castle sounded hurt.

"Oh, how could he?" asked Beckett with a grin.

"I know!" said Castle. "It's like this other cop I once knew who couldn't stand me interfering in her cases."

Beckett rolled her eyes.

"I heard that," said Castle.

"What?"

"You just rolled your eyes. I heard you."

"Castle, you can't hear someone rolling their eyes."

"But you're not denying that you did roll your eyes."

"Yeah, and I'm rolling them again now, so shut up."

"Ha! I knew I was right!"

"Castle."

"Okay, okay, I'm shutting up," said Castle. "So you want that report? I'll get it from Bob."

"Sure. We should meet before I go back to work anyway."

"Do you know when you're coming back yet?"

"I'm hoping for mid-to-late September. I'll need to come back to the city a few days before I can go back on duty, for my physical and psych evaluation."

"You should come over to my place when you get back. You can pick up the report and we can have dinner with Alexis and my mother. And if you get lonely between now and then, I can drive up again."

Beckett smiled. "I'd like that. Maybe next week?"