Chapter 9

On Thursday morning, the doctor released Beckett, providing her with a lengthy list of instructions and dire warnings about how much more damage she would do to her shoulder if she didn't stick strictly to them.

"And just wait here," he finished up. "Chief Tully's sending Officer Dermot to collect you so they can take your statement, then you're being interviewed, and then Dermot'll take you home."

Beckett wasn't nearly as appreciative as she should have been, but she said all the right things in all the right tone to Dr Carney, and was polite to Dermot, who collected the library books for return. She gave her statement factually and in approved fashion to Chief Tully, who was grateful.

"Okay, thank you," Tully said. "Now, young Dermot's going to take you down to the radio station for your interview, and then he'll take you home. The supermarket has your groceries ready for him. Doc Carney told me you weren't to lift anything, so you let him do it all, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Beckett said, just as she would to Montgomery. Tully sounded remarkably similar.

"And he'll be around to check up on you 'bout mid-afternoon every day. You need anything, you let him know, and he'll fix it up. Marie's his kissing cousin."

Were they all related in Walton? It seemed possible.

"I put in another call to your captain, and he's expecting to hear from you later this afternoon. Don't forget, now, or likely he'll be up here raising Cain. He's worried 'bout you."

"Yessir."

Chief Tully smiled. "Get along to that interview, now. You're the most interesting thing that's happened all year. You gotta let us make a fuss about it."

"Yes, sir."

Dermot bounced in, all scrubbed up and enthusiastic. "You ready, ma'am?"

"Yes, Officer." She turned to Tully. "Thank you, sir."

"Thank you, Detective."

Dermot drove the half-mile to the radio station as carefully as if Beckett were a crystal snowflake, opened the unit door for her, helped her out, escorted her to the studio and insisted that she sit down. His well-intentioned cotton-wool protectiveness made her feel at least two hundred years old. She guessed, acidly, that the rest of her was catching up to the apparent age of her shoulder, which hurt.

"Could I get some water," she asked, "so I can take a pain pill?"

"Sure, ma'am." Dermot dashed off, and dashed back. Beckett almost expected him to hold the glass to her lips for her to drink, but fortunately he refrained. She gulped down the pill just as the radio interviewer arrived.

"Hey, I'm Annie Lex," she said. "Ready to go?"

"Yes," Beckett said, not ready at all.

"Just talk normally, into the microphone – Chuck, fix it up for her."

Dermot, aka Chuck, did. Beckett regarded it with the same suspicion that a rat would regard the cheese in a trap.

"Here we go," Annie said, and switched on the broadcast.

"Good afternoon, Walton!" she said cheerfully. "Two days ago, an armed criminal tried to rob the Walton Big M Supermarket, and as you've all heard, Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD stopped him bare-handed. Today, she's agreed to be interviewed, even though she took a bullet protecting our very own Marie Marshall and is just out of hospital." Annie finally took a breath.

"Detective Beckett," she said. "Great to meet you! You're a hero to the town."

"Thank you," Beckett said. "I was just doing my job."

"You were here on vacation, though. I bet you didn't expect to meet criminals here."

"No. You've got a lovely little town, and whenever I've been previously it's been peaceful." Flatter the locals. That way she might get out of this in one piece.

"Usually, we are. Now, Marie says you didn't hesitate to tackle that lowlife, even though he was reaching for his gun. How'd you do that?"

"All cops are trained to protect and serve the public, and I'm sure that if Officer Dermot or any of Chief Tully's force had been there they'd have done the same. I just relied on my training and I knew I couldn't let Marie or anyone else get hurt."

"That's so sweet of you to say," Annie said. "I guess we should expect it from a frequent visitor."

"I've been coming up here since I was small – but I appreciate it so much more now, especially as I'm based in the city."

Annie smiled. "Yes, so I hear. When I was making my notes for this interview" – Beckett suddenly had a horrible premonition – "I found that you're known for weird and wonderful cases. You're a homicide detective, back in New York, yes?"

"Yes, I am."

"And you're also the inspiration for the latest best-seller by Richard Castle. Tell me, what's it like having a man like that following you around to base books on you?"

Oh, fuck. Beckett called on all her media training and all her self-control, and thanked her stars that she couldn't move because she'd be out of that door and a hundred miles south in no time at all if she could.

She smiled, and Annie didn't notice its falseness. "It's certainly interesting," she said, with a light laugh. "He thinks very differently to cops, but he's managed to fit into our team pretty well. Of course, we don't let him have a gun or arrest people: we do that."

"Have you read Heat Wave?"

"Yes. It's a good book, but it isn't reality. He leaves out all the tedious paperwork and all the things that wouldn't be interesting; but what's in there is accurate in terms of police work. The characters and their relationships are all fictional, though."

Annie looked disappointed, and clearly scrapped any idea of asking whether page 105 had been based on reality. Beckett smiled insincerely.

"Chief Tully tells me that he's sent a commendation to your captain."

Beckett nearly choked. "That's really kind of him, but honestly, I was just doing what any cop would do. I just happened to be there at the right time."

"The town's really grateful to you. Thank you for coming on the show, Detective Beckett, and best wishes for your recovery."

"Thank you," Beckett managed.

Annie switched off the microphones and cut to local adverts. "Thanks," she said. "I really like Heat Wave. Will you tell Richard Castle?"

"Sure I will."

"If he's ever up this way, I'd love to get my copy signed."

"He'd be happy to do it. He's always keen to meet his fans."

"Thanks again." Annie turned round. "Chuck, you make sure Detective Beckett gets home without a single bounce, you hear me?"

"Yes, Annie."

"Good."

"Ma'am, you okay to go now? We'll pick up your groceries and I'll take you back to your cabin."

"Yes, please," Beckett said, suddenly utterly exhausted with the after-effects of her shooting and previous injuries, and especially having to hide her feelings about Castle, Nikki Heat, and everything connected with him.

"Are you really Nikki Heat?" Dermot asked as they went out.

"No. She's not really like me at all." Beckett sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry, but I'm just so tired. D'you mind if I just close my eyes for a minute?"

"Sure thing, ma'am."

Dermot drove Beckett home, made sure she was inside and seated comfortably, with her arm propped on pillows, and then brought in and put away all her groceries. Then, under her direction, he found her phone, plugged it in to charge, and awaited further instructions.

"I think I'm good, Dermot," she said. "You've been great. Thank you."

"I'll be out tomorrow, around about five. Here's my card, and if you need anything you just call me right away."

"Will do," Beckett said, knowing that she wouldn't unless she absolutely had to. "Thanks again."

"Seeya," Dermot said, and marched out with a decided spring in his step, which Beckett regarded with a jaundiced eye. That sort of enthusiasm should be left to the very young, well away from Beckett, who felt very old.

She felt even older when she struggled up from the couch to make herself coffee, retrieve her phone, and call Montgomery.

Yet another thing that wasn't going to be fun.

She gritted her teeth, sitting at the table so that she could have the phone on speaker and her coffee beside her, and dialled.

"Captain Montgomery – Beckett?"

"Sir. Yes, sir."

"What the hell have you been doing? You are on medical leave. Why were you taking down criminals outside of your jurisdiction when you're injured?"

"Uh…"

"I'm waiting, Detective."

"There wasn't anyone else, sir, and he was going to attack the cashier. I couldn't let that happen."

Montgomery made a series of noises that added up, collectively, to around five minutes of commentary on Beckett's idiocy, stupidity, lack of any sense, dumbness and headstrong recklessness. Beckett said nothing. She wouldn't have got a word in edgeways in any case, so why try?

"On the other hand, Chief Tully thinks you're a hero, and you acted in the best traditions of being a good cop – even if it was a really, really dumb thing to do. He's sent me a commendation for you, which I shall endorse. Well done."

"Thank you, sir."

"But," Montgomery said ominously. "But, what are you going to do now? I have had the report from the doctor. You can't even start to use that arm for at least six weeks. You're on your own, which you shouldn't be" –

"Sir, Officer Dermot of the Walton PD will be checking in on me every day."

"Not the point."

"Sir," she said unhappily.

"You can't leave the cabin except on foot, and if I hear about you trying there will be trouble. So you're stuck there for the next six weeks. I am not impressed."

"No, sir."

"I don't want my best detective reduced to investigating why the squirrels steal nuts."

"No, sir."

"I shall think about how best to get you back here. For now, don't you dare move. Do what the doctors tell you."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll check in with you regularly. I know you wanted to be off-grid, but you keep that phone charged and switched on."

"Yes, sir."

Montgomery's tones softened. "You did good, Beckett. But don't get hurt again, okay? It's not a good plan."

"Sir."

Montgomery cut the call. Beckett, remembering the physical therapist's instructions, found an ice pack and held it to her shoulder, breathing slowly and carefully. In two hours or so, she could take another painkiller. Idly, she checked her phone, and found Castle's two messages.

Call him? Hell, no. She wasn't going to interfere with his little love nest with Gina.

Montgomery, privately, was exceedingly proud of Beckett's actions – even if they were dumb as all get out. Still, he now had a major problem – but possibly also a major opportunity. Castle had ditched Gina. Beckett was all on her own. The solution was perfectly obvious…the only issue was how to make it happen. He smiled. By the end of the afternoon, he was perfectly confident that he'd have had a good idea. He could feel it coalescing at the back of his mind.

On reflection, though he still could not understand how Beckett could have been so unlucky as to be shot neatly into the most difficult to mend part of her shoulder without the damn dirtbag hitting a bone, it might be for the best. A good long rest and then some nice light desk duty without the chance of hurting herself was just what the doctor – and her captain – would have ordered.

For now, however, he'd better tell Beckett's team.

He poked his head out of his office, spotted his prey, and summoned them.

"Sir?" Ryan and Espo said together.

"Detective Beckett has been shot and injured," Montgomery said baldly.

"She what now?"

"While grocery shopping, she disturbed a robbery in progress, and while subduing the perpetrator, he shot her through the shoulder."

"Fuck," Espo muttered.

"She'll be in a sling for six weeks, and physical therapy for months afterwards."

"Jesus," Ryan put in. "How" –

"Bad luck," Montgomery said. "The local police have commended her, but that doesn't get her back here."

"We could" –

"Nope," Montgomery said, and smiled evilly. "I'll arrange it. With Beckett unavoidably absent, you two are badly needed here. You wouldn't want to let her down by letting your solve rate drop, would you?"

"No, sir," Ryan said, "but it wouldn't take long to go get her and then she'd be back here where she's got support and everything. I don't guess there's much around her up in the boonies."

"I said, Ryan, that I would arrange it. Don't you think I'm capable of that?"

"Yessir, but" –

"Then leave it to me."

"Yessir."

Espo suddenly examined Montgomery's expression, and blinked. "Leave it, Ryan. We'll make sure Beckett doesn't have to worry about anything, sir."

"Good. Dismissed."

Back out in the bullpen, Ryan looked plaintively at Esposito. "Why don't you want to go fetch Beckett?"

"'Cause Montgomery's plotting something, and I'm not getting in the way of his plans. I think he's planning to do a little matchmaking, and I don't want to get shot when the cross-fire starts."

"He's going to send Castle up?"

"That's what I'm guessing."

"Ohmigod. I think I'll get my vest out. We're both going to need them."

"Yeah," Espo agreed. "We sure are. But not as much as Castle's going to need his."

By only a very a little later, far in advance of the end of the afternoon, Montgomery's plan had blossomed beautifully into a full-blown solution to the mess that his best detective and his poker pal had gotten themselves into. It was obvious, really. Tell Castle that Beckett had been shot, make sure he had her address – Montgomery was quite sure that Castle could find it if he tried – and maybe already had it – and suggest that he went and helped.

After that, it was up to them.

Perfect. He patted himself on the back, and then turned to the rather more urgent question of filling the Beckett-shaped gap in his duty rosters. That done, some time later, he called Castle.

"Rick, it's Roy."

"Yeah?" Castle said, not particularly civilly.

"Uh, it's about Beckett."

"And? Tuesday you warned me off. I'm still in the Hamptons, so you can lay off the warnings."

"She got shot," Montgomery said flatly.

There was a horrible silence. Castle's chest hollowed out. "She's not…" He couldn't say it.

"No. But the bullet went through her left shoulder and she can't use her arm for some time."

Castle breathed, very slowly, until he could control himself enough to speak. "But she's okay otherwise?" he asked.

"A bit banged up and bruised, and it didn't do her previous injuries any good, but she'll be okay in time."

Castle thought, swallowing back his terror. "When you say can't use her arm, what do you mean?"

"The bullet ripped her rotator cuff, so they had to mend it. You can research the details later. Sling for six weeks, and absolutely no using it at all for four."

"But…"

"Mm?" said Montgomery, trying not to grin.

"But she's on her own in the middle of nowhere."

"The cabin's a bit out of town, for sure. A few miles. I'm sure she'll manage. From what the local cops said, they'll be lining up to make sure she's okay."

"What, visits every so often? That's not – that won't work. She'll be trying to do too much from the start."

"Not a lot I can do about that, but I'll be checking in on her too."

Castle, still in shock and consequently not thinking straight at all, said instantly, "You don't need to. I'm going up there."

Montgomery internally cheered. Externally, he said simply, "You think that's a good idea? Just turning up and hoping she'll let you in?"

"You got a better one?" Castle said sharply. "I don't hear you going up, and if Ryan or Espo were, you'd have told me already. Anyway, she's my partner. I'm going whether you like it or not."

"It's your funeral. I wouldn't, if I were you."

The goading worked precisely as Montgomery, a master of manipulation in a good cause, expected.

Castle lost his temper. "Well, it's lucky I'm not you, because for the last four weeks all you've managed is to let Beckett half-kill herself with the enthusiastic assistance of the team. If that's the sort of care you take of your people I'm surprised you've still got a whole cop left in the precinct."

"Now see here, Castle," Montgomery snapped, still wholly rejoicing in the success of his plan, "you've got no business criticising my precinct. I'm doing just fine and cops get injured in the line of duty. So butt out and leave me to manage my cops."

"Fine!" Castle snapped back, and cut the call with a vicious swipe, infuriated by Montgomery's casual attitude to Beckett's injuries. He dug out the address his guy had found, threw a bag together, checked that he had phone, laptop, and chargers; then packed his vest just in case there were more crazed gunmen in the back of beyond.

He didn't need to worry about anything else. Alexis was in summer camp for weeks longer, and his mother ought to be able to take care of herself. In considerably less than an hour, he was pulling out of his driveway in a comfortably unflashy Mercedes. The Ferrari and the boondocks didn't mix.

Later than she'd intended, Beckett made herself some lunch, with considerable difficulty; after she'd awkwardly and one-handedly eaten it, took another pain pill, considered doing the washing up and as swiftly realised that it was going to be more of a struggle than she could face right now; and eventually staggered back to the couch with another ice pack and sat down with extreme caution. She propped her left arm up on the pillows, put the ice pack on her shoulder, and thanked the heavens that she'd packed her Kindle.

Throughout all of it she ignored the messages on her phone from Castle, ignored the unhappiness in her gut which told her she should at least text him, and wished, futilely and once more, that she'd been five minutes – or several weeks – faster to ditch Demming.

Pain, exhaustion and upset combined, and she started to cry. She hated herself for it. She had no reason at all to be crying: everyone had been perfectly kind and really helpful and all she needed to do was sit quietly and heal. If anything was wrong, Officer Dermot would be only too delighted to help out.

It didn't stop her. She struggled upstairs to her bedroom, and into bed, piling up every pillow she possessed and every other one she could find so that she was sleeping semi-upright, to produce least pain. It was shatteringly uncomfortable even so, and she barely managed a doze before giving up and going back down to the couch, dropping the pillows she'd need for her arm down the stairs first so she had a hand free to hold the banister. Maybe she'd be able to doze there.

She miserably pushed away the thought that with a companion – she shoved away hard any idea of who that might be – they could help her arrange herself comfortably. She didn't have one, and even if Montgomery sent one of the boys up, which was vanishingly improbable because he'd have told her that was what would happen, she didn't want to snuggle up to them.

Another unwanted, unwarranted tear leaked out. She sat there and tried not to leak tears, only partially successful, then sniffled her way to the freezer and got out another ice pack. She remembered to put the previous one back in to refreeze, but she miscalculated slightly and touched her left arm to the edge of the freezer, yelping with the pain.

Back on the couch, she fell into gloom, still enervated, knowing she should, soon, try to eat, but too sore and aching to move or attempt heating up something.

So she didn't.

Thank you to all readers and reviewers.