Chapter 6

"Jake Marley?" Beckett demanded.

"Who's askin'?" He stood foursquare, blocking his doorway.

"Detectives Beckett and Ryan, NYPD."

"I ain't done nothin'."

"I didn't say you had. We've got some questions for you, and we can ask them right here where all your neighbours can hear them, or we can have a nice private chat down at the station. Your choice."

"An' if I say no?"

"I'll arrest you for obstruction. Again, your choice."

Marley smiled sleazily. "I don't like any of the choices. So I'm just gonna shut this door" –

Beckett took one fast step forward and grabbed him. "Jake Marley, you are under arrest" –

His arms came up to try to fight her off, but Ryan was there in an instant, wrestling Marley down and cuffing him.

"I guess he chose arrest," Beckett said.

"Guess so," Ryan agreed. "Wouldn't be my choice, but I'm not him."

They stowed Marley in the back of the unit, and transported him back to the precinct, where they left him in Processing and found themselves coffee.

"No problems?"

"He tried to run. We stopped him."

"Your arm okay?"

"Yeah. He didn't make it any worse," Beckett said. It was almost true. Marley hadn't made it worse, though her automatic lunge to stop him escaping them hadn't helped any. Then again…a little distraction. Espo was far too interested in her injury for her taste. "You got any Icy Hot in here?"

Espo rummaged in his desk, and found a battered tube, which Beckett removed, with her battered arm, to the women's restroom. She returned smelling of the slathered salve. "That's better," she said. It was better. She'd proved her point to Espo, and he'd stop with the dumb comments about not being fit for duty.

"Marley's in Interrogation," an officer informed them.

"Shall we?" Beckett said to Ryan.

"Okay."

Beckett marched into Interrogation One a critical two steps ahead of Ryan and stopped, unable to see Marley.

"Where" – she began, and instantly discovered where he was as he punched her. Her last thought as she fell was He should have been shackled!

Ryan crashed through the door yelling for back up and with his gun up: pinning Marley into a corner for the few seconds until four more cops raced in and immobilised him, not gently.

Ryan bent over Beckett, and gently touched her shoulder. "Beckett?"

She didn't open her eyes or move.

"Beckett! Say something?" She didn't. When Ryan picked up her hand, it was completely limp. "Get a bus!" he yelled, and sat there on the floor, holding her wrist to check her pulse was still beating, until the EMTs rushed in and threw him out.

"What the fuck happened there?" Espo demanded.

"When they put him in Interrogation, he wasn't cuffed to the table – or at all," Ryan said bitterly. "Beckett went in first, like she always does, and he punched her out."

"Fuck."

"The EMTs are working on her now."

"Looks like they're taking her away," Espo pointed out. A stretcher was departing, with a swirl of dark hair the only real evidence of it being Beckett. "How'd he manage to punch her out?"

"Surprise, and she fell – maybe she hit the door or the table. Or he got a good one into her jaw."

"It'll be on tape. Those rooms are all recorded."

"Let's go look."

"Which hospital are they going to?"

"Bellevue. We'll go see her after we've worked out what happened – she'll wanna know."

They grabbed the recordings and started to review. There wasn't much to review, and it didn't take long. The uniform, shortly to be a very miserable uniform, had dumped Marley into Interrogation with no cuffs and no shackles, despite the fact that Beckett had clearly stated she'd arrested him. Marley had simply stood out of instant view, and as soon as Beckett had entered, swung a haymaker punch which caught her squarely on the jaw.

"Oh, shit," Espo said. "She hit the table on the way down."

"Better call the hospital – or even better, go."

Espo went, at speed.

Left behind, Ryan pondered. If he did what he was considering, Beckett would kill him, slowly. If he did more, everyone would kill him slowly. But if he did nothing…he didn't like that either.

Slowly, he tapped out a text. Castle. Beckett ditched Demming. He didn't say when. When will you be back? Ryan. He stared at it for a while, wondering whether to add something to say she'd been injured, then set his jaw and pressed Send.

At the hospital, Espo managed to locate the doctor attending to Beckett, and informed him that the tape showed she'd hit her head on the way down.

"Okay," the doctor said. "Thanks for telling us, but we'd already found it."

"How is she?"

The doctor's face blanked. "Are you next of kin or emergency contact?"

"Uh…no. That's probably her dad. She should have her phone with that on."

"We'll check. I can't tell you anything if you're not either." He regarded Espo sympathetically. "Sorry."

"Let me know if she doesn't have her phone and I'll call her dad. I'll wait."

The doctor hurried off, throwing instructions at a nurse and an orderly. The orderly ambled over to Espo. "Hear your pal oughta have a phone?"

"Yeah. If she does, it's got her emergency contact in it. Someone oughta call them."

"I'll go look right now for you."

While he waited for the orderly to return, Espo called Ryan. "Waiting here to find out if Beckett's phone is with her. I'll be back after they call her emergency contact and he gets here. I guess it's her dad."

"'Kay, bro. Call me later."

Espo acquired a cup of thin brown liquid that claimed to be coffee, which he'd finished before the orderly returned. "We got her phone, and called. Her emergency contact'll be here shortly. Looks like it's a relative."

"I'll wait for them."

Around twenty minutes later, a medium-height, grey-haired man of around sixty arrived. Esposito, listening in, heard him announce himself as Jim Beckett. He bore no resemblance whatsoever to his daughter. Espo had heard about him, occasionally, but never met him. He marched up to him.

"Mr Beckett?"

"Yes?" the man said.

"I'm Detective Esposito – Javier Esposito."

His face cleared. "Oh, yes. Of course. Espo, she calls you. What happened to my daughter?"

"A suspect took a swing at her and she hit her head when she fell."

Beckett Senior paled. "Is she okay?"

"The doctors won't tell me anything because I'm not next of kin or emergency contact. Now you're here, they'll tell you."

Jim sat down heavily. "I…I guess I've been lucky so far. This is the first time…" He trailed off.

Espo didn't comment, but his thoughts were racing. Beckett hadn't been hurt often, but more than once she'd been checked over in the ER. Her dad didn't know that? "Yeah. She doesn't take unnecessary risks."

Well. She hadn't used to take unnecessary risks. She'd been a little less cautious these last couple of weeks – but she still hadn't taken unnecessary risks. Not quite. Espo, very privately in case Beckett Senior could read faces like their Beckett could, suddenly wondered whether that might be changing. In which case…he needed to talk to Ryan.

"She doesn't?"

"No," Espo said reassuringly. "She never has." Reassurance wasn't his natural state of being, but Beckett's dad was shocked and upset enough. "D'you want me to stay till you've heard from the doctor?"

"Please," Jim said. "Company would be good."

Espo sat down next to Jim, and tried to smile. It wasn't exactly the epitome of genial warmth, but it was a good effort.

"You work with Katie and, um, Ryan, is it? And Rick Castle follows you all around?"

"Yeah. Though Castle mostly follows Beckett, um-uh-Kate."

Jim produced a weak, but sardonic, smile, instantly giving him a resemblance to Beckett. "Call her what you usually do. I won't mind. So Rick only follows Katie?" He smiled mischievously. "Well, well. She hadn't told me that. Not that I hadn't guessed. I had the impression" –

The doctor hurried towards them, and Jim stopped short. "Mr Beckett?" Espo tactfully moved away before he could be shooed off.

"Yes. What's up with Katie?"

"She has a concussion, and a nasty bruise where she's hit her head, but no significant damage to her skull. Her arm is another matter. She's just coming round now, if you want to see her?"

"Yes." Jim rapidly stood up, took two fast steps after the doctor, and then stopped. "You'd better come too," he said to Espo. "See for yourself."

"Thanks."

"I know you want to know. You wouldn't be much of a team if you weren't worried." Jim's stride lengthened to cover the corridors to Beckett's room as fast as he could without actually running over the doctor.

"Here she is," the doctor said. Jim gasped, swiftly stifled. "We're keeping her under observation – concussion protocols, you know – but though it looks bad, she's going to be fine. We can discharge her, if there's someone who'll stay with her tonight and wake her in accordance with the protocols – I'll give you them – or she can be kept in. She's not to be left alone for twenty-four hours." The doctor sighed. "After that, she should have a few days' medical leave. The arm should probably be in a sling to rest it. It's a very nasty bruise."

"Not broken?" Jim asked.

"No."

"Did she do that when she fell?" he asked Espo.

"I guess." Espo lied, straight up lied. Just like he now knew Beckett had lied by omission to Ryan and him. But he couldn't worry Beckett's dad more than he was already worried.

So he thought.

"So why's Rick not here? If he follows Katie around all the time, where is he?" Espo gaped like a guppy. "Come on. Everything I've heard says he's practically her partner. So where is he?"

Espo was immediately and unhappily reminded of Beckett's interrogation style, as applied whenever he or Ryan displeased her. "Uh…"

"Yes?" Jim produced the patent Beckett glare.

"Uh…he's out of town."

Jim's eyebrow rose. Espo recovered some semblance of composure – and self-preservation from Detective Beckett's likely wrath. "You'll have to ask her. I'm not your stool-pigeon."

"I'm her father."

"I'm her friend."

"I've got a headache," came feebly from the bed. "Shut up."

"Katie!" Jim whipped round and was by her bedside in a moment.

"Dad? Why…?"

"I'm still your emergency contact."

"They didn't need to" –

"Yes, they did. You've really banged your head and they're going to do concussion protocol."

She shut her eyes again. "Ow," emerged.

Jim patted her hand. "Now, Katie. You can come home with me and I'll do the protocols, or you can stay here. Either way, you're going to have to take a few days off and you need a sling for that arm, they say."

Beckett's face twisted. "No," she said, but it wasn't clear to anyone else to what she was objecting.

"Yes. You need to rest up and anyway, as soon as your Captain hears about this you'll be benched."

Espo sent a quick text to Ryan, asking if Montgomery knew, and received a swift affirmative. "He knows," he said. "You'll be benched, Beckett." There was an unhappily disgruntled noise, but no comment. "I better get back. Let me know what's going on."

"'Kay," Beckett forced out. Espo left, rapidly, before he had to succour the sick.

Beckett's head hurt. Her arm hurt. Opening her eyes wasn't an option, since even her eyelids hurt. Her dad was here, though. Espo had been here.

Castle wasn't there. Of course he wasn't. Why should he be? He was in the Hamptons with Gina, where he'd been for the last three weeks. So it was pointless being disappointed and upset and wishing he were there, because he wouldn't be.

"Dad?" she whispered. "I wanna go home."

"Have you got room for me to stay?" Jim asked. "You can't be left alone tonight, and your Rick isn't here to look after you."

Beckett turned her head away so that her dad couldn't see just how much that statement hurt. "Yeah," she managed. "You'll need to make the bed."

"I can manage that. I can even do hospital corners."

She forced a smile, so as not to worry him more. "'Kay."

"I'll get a doctor to release you, and then take you home."

"'Kay," she said again, barely audible.

She heard her dad's footsteps leaving the room, and let her control over her face slip away. She wanted Castle, but that was not going to happen. She'd already told herself that, so she should stop her pathetic hoping for him and just grow the fuck up. She heard two sets of footsteps, dashed a hand over her eyes, sniffed before they could hear her, and returned her face to something she thought would represent hopeful blandness.

"Yo, Ryan?"

"Yeah? How's Beckett?"

"Concussion. Massive bruise. No breakages. She should'a had a sling on that arm, though, and she didn't. I don't think she went to the ER about it. You told Montgomery?"

"Didn't need to tell him. He couldn't've missed the EMTs. But you've to report to him to tell him what the hospital said."

"Ugh," Espo gloomed. "Better do that first." He marched to Montgomery's office, and tapped.

"Come in." Montgomery looked up. "Ah. Detective Esposito. What's Beckett done to herself this time?"

"The suspect punched her out and she hit the table on the way down, sir."

"And her arm?" Montgomery watched Esposito closely.

"I guess she hit that too."

"Since she's been favouring it for three days, how about you try that again?"

Espo looked around the office for inspiration, and found precisely none. "The suspect on the previous case punched her."

"Whole lotta punching going on. Who was with her?"

"Today's happened in Interrogation. Duty officer didn't shackle the perp, sir. Sergeant's dealing with him."

"And previously?"

"LT went with her."

"I see," Montgomery said thoughtfully. "She's not going out alone?"

"No, sir," Espo said truthfully. Beckett had taken Ryan with her to see Rourke.

"Yesterday, however, you, Ryan and LT were all here, but Beckett was not. How does that translate to not alone?"

"Ryan had gone with her, but Rourke" –

"Finn Rourke?" –

"Yes, sir. Rourke wouldn't talk with Ryan there, and since we all knew where she was and who she was interviewing we, uh…"

"I see. None of you felt this was a risk that shouldn't be taken?"

"Ryan said Beckett faced him down and he completely caved."

Montgomery's eyebrows hit the ceiling. "Finn Rourke caved?"

"Yes, sir."

The Captain exhaled slowly. "Wow," he said to himself. "Well, I guess you all called it right, then." He regrouped. "Concussion, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. Dismissed."

Espo scarpered as fast as he could to the safety of the bullpen and then the break room. Ryan trotted in after him.

"Still alive?" Ryan queried.

"Yeah. But I'm not sure Beckett will be." He scowled. "D'you think she's starting to take more risks?"

"Like how?"

"Dunno exactly, but…she's harder. More aggressive."

"I'd be aggressive after the comments those gym nuts made," Ryan said, "but I think I get you." He shuffled. "Uh, I told Castle she broke up with Demming. I didn't get an answer yet."

"Might've been a good idea. Anyway, she won't be in for a few days. Medical leave. Maybe it'll fix her."

"Okay, Katie," Jim said, escorting her into her apartment and encouraging her to sit down before she fell down, "where's this bed linen, and I'll make my bed while you get ready for your own bed."

Beckett didn't argue. She didn't feel up to an argument and, truthfully, all she wanted was her own comfortable bed and sleep. She'd worry about the case tomorrow. She wobbled upwards and off to her room, where she sat hard down on the bed, jarring her arm in the – totally unnecessary – sling, and tried not to focus on the stabbing, pounding pain in her temple. She managed to brush her teeth, then sat to remove her make-up, trying not to rub over the excruciating bruise, and only able to use one hand. She left her arm in the sling, and didn't admit to herself that the support was very welcome. Finally, she struggled into bed, and gratefully sank into her pillows.

She didn't notice when Jim slipped in, just as he had when she was tiny, and examined her to ensure she was at rest. Jim, on the other hand, noticed that his daughter was a little pale, with darker circles under her eyes which her make-up had previously concealed; her jawline and cheekbones a little more pronounced. No fool, Jim had instantly spotted Detective Esposito's evasion on the subject of Rick Castle, and would have deeply liked to know that story. However, it would wait till the morning. For now, he set alarms for every two hours, and prepared for a disturbed, and possibly disturbing, night.

"Katie, wake up," she heard.

"Am awake."

"Okay then, open your eyes." She did, and a flashlight seared into them.

"Ow!"

"Pupils okay. You can go back to sleep now." She did.

Two hours later, and two hours after that, and every two hours until ten a.m., her dad woke her. At ten, Beckett woke herself, and staggered out of her room to make coffee and decide whether she was alive or dead. She hurt so much she guessed she had to be alive, and rather wished that she wasn't. She shuffled to her bathroom and found two painkillers, gulped them down with water and chased that with half a pint of coffee.

"You're awake," her dad said, emerging from her spare room. "Sit down, and I'll make more coffee."

"I could do it," she said sulkily.

"Sure, but you aren't going to. I will. You sit down and don't wobble your head in case it falls off." Jim grinned at her. He'd used to tell her that when she was small and had bumped her head.

"I'm not six any more."

"No, but you do have a spectacular bruise." Jim remained bright, breezy and absolutely didn't mention how terrified he'd been. "You'll need extra-thick foundation to cover that."

Beckett started to make a face at him, found that it hurt to wrinkle her forehead, and stopped. Just as she was about to comment, her phone rang.

"Beckett."

"Detective."

"Sir," she said, knowing what was coming.

"A week's medical leave, and on your return you're to schedule an appointment with a doctor to confirm that you are fit to return."

"Sir," she drooped.

"And stop letting suspects punch you, or I'll send you back to the Academy for a refresher course in self-defence."

"Sir."

"A full week. And no sneaking in when I'm not looking. The desk sergeants will tell me."

"Sir," Beckett dragged. She'd been planning precisely that.

"See you in a week."

"Yes, sir."

She put the phone down.

"Well?" her father asked.

"Week's medical leave," she growled. "It's not necessary."

"It is necessary, Katie," her dad said firmly. "You really hurt your head and you were lucky not to do worse. Just take the break and get better." He smiled mischievously. "You could always spend some time with your Rick Castle."

"I don't think so. He's out of town for the summer."

Jim said nothing, but noted the bitter tone of her voice. Something wrong there, he was sure. Not being inclined to pick a fight, he didn't ask. "Time I went, then. Anything more you need?"

"No." She hugged him. "Thanks, Dad."

Thank you to all readers and reviewers.