Katherine Beckett was many things - a smart woman, an accomplished detective, a beautiful fashion setter with high heels and leather jackets, and maybe a little bit of a control freak. Shit, who was she kidding? She was wound so tight that surviving six weeks of inpatient therapy might just be more daunting than the police academy. But she got through the academy and she knew she needed to be grateful for the strings Lanie pulled to get her in this place.
It was her own fault. She derailed her physical recovery because she refused to acknowledge her psychological trauma. Traumas - plural. The result was a woman broken emotionally and physically. The silver lining was the Second Chance Rehabilitation Campus which knew just how to deal with strong, silent types and treated the whole person. Not only were the short term goals of mental and physical health achieved through aggressive therapy, but the long term agenda aimed at creating a lifestyle of wellness for lasting resilience.
She chose group therapy in the morning. Next came physical therapy, nutritional sessions, and stupid wellness lectures and videos. In the evening were private therapy sessions so she didn't have to face anyone but her own demons afterwards.
She also had to choose "supplemental sessions to promote positive lifestyle habits." At least the massive scale of the facility gave her options. She sure as hell didn't need "Understanding the Legal System," Personal Finance, or GED classes. She threatened to shoot the cheerful little gay man who wanted her to join the craft club. Ditto the game club. Pet therapy made her think of Royal the dog and a big teddy bear of a man, so that option was rejected. Her medications made food taste like rusty metal, so cooking class was out. She seriously considered drawing instruction. It might come in handy to be able to sketch a crime scene or a suspect's face. It was something Detective Beckett would choose, but Kate didn't. It bugged her that she might know why, but she shoved those nagging thoughts in a mental box and looked again at her dwindling options. The music therapy might work if she weren't afraid of the melodies reminding her of blue eyes and lost love.
The book club was an obvious choice. There was both a fiction (no murder mysteries) and nonfiction (currently a biography), but it was only twice a week and she needed another "creative outlet" to learn new coping mechanisms to fill her schedule, so she ended up in a fiber arts workroom.
Iwoona, the small, rotund woman in the workroom knew exactly who the 'extraordinary KB' was when she reluctantly got pushed into the room on her first day. The intake file stated only basic history that the patient was here for complications after a single GSW. Even an untrained observer could tell Kate didn't want to be there. Iwoona was more than a quilt maker and avid reader, she was a historian and knew she could draw her reluctant newcomer into the fold. She nudged Kate's wheelchair over to the wall with an old quilt hanging proudly in front of other more modern and abstract pieces. "What can you tell me about this quilt?" Kate looked at her like she was nuts, so the African American woman goaded her, "It seems like nothing but an old ratty quilt, not worth a second look, but maybe your training might let you see what others missed."
Beckett studied the quilt. It was old and simple. The fabric was a mix of plain hardy swatches and quality cloth probably from dresses and shirts. There were a dozen blocks. Some were just squares of different fabrics but others had a pleasing variant of light and dark color. She kept looking at the big picture like she would a crime scene. A few seemed to be symbolic or represent objects.
She zeroed in on those. Okay, the top row had a block with seven blue stars and another one was a big leaf. Unusual that the leaf was red and not green. Down one row, a blue strip zigzagged across a block of green. The third row had a big triangle with four smaller triangles pointed in towards each other. The pattern repeated in each corner of the block. It represented something, she just can't say what. She needed context. It was next to a square with three large overlapping peaks in dark colors. The last row had the easiest symbols to decipher. There was a crescent moon and a big yellow flower, but why were they included, what story made sense?
She turned to the other woman and pointed, "This block with the four sharp designs in each corner. I assume it has a name. Tell me that and I'll know if my theory is correct."
The dark skinned woman beamed at her, "Sharp is exactly what the pattern is trying to convey. That block is called a bear paw."
The detective nodded and fit the clues together in her mind. "It's about a journey. The seven stars represent the big dipper and implies north. The journey is through woods with wild animals and mountains and crossing a river." Beckett pointed at the three peaks then to the blue zigzag. Then she points to the flower and red leaf, "The trip began in the spring and doesn't end until autumn?"
The detective pauses, "Oh how could I not see it before! I'm guessing this is the story of a slave's escape to freedom."
Iwoona nodded. "You are one of only a handful of people to decipher it. Hiding something in plain sight was the only way slaves could keep a map. The special blocks were memory joggers to go with the oral history of successful escapes." She pointed to the bear paw block, "This is literal. Follow the bear trail because you a less likely to run into a white man, and the bear trail will lead you to water and berries."
She moved her new participant to another quilt and continued enchanting the reluctant woman. "All these can tell stories. They may not be as monumental as the underground railroad, but everything in this quilt is here because of choice a woman made to either include it or cut it out. She chose the color palette - light, dark, pastel or vibrant. Are the designs symbolic or pictorial?" The instructor started pointing to quilts, "This one is a farm quilt with blocks that have names like log cabin, barn door, and wagon wheel. This one is the opposite with hand dyed fabrics meant to invoke feelings like a Picasso art piece with its discordant colors. This one is all about the fabrics - it's a time capsule - using old baby and school clothes, and then sports teams and state flags." She looked at Kate, "What secret do you want to hide in plain sight? What story do you want to tell?" Kate had become a willing convert to quilting world.
Somehow finding symbolism in scraps of fabric with swirling winds, angry sea waves, and dark clouds meshes with her current emotions. She adds fabric with a compass, magnifying glass, treasure chest, pirate knife, and, of course, a rook and pawn. It is like hiding puzzle pieces among all the other visual clutter and telling a story just like a crime scene. The quilt block is called Storm at Sea, and the gray, blue and orange fabrics are bold and strong. And just maybe after a few breakthroughs in counseling she admits to herself that it might make a special gift for a man who has everything. As she fights off tears at night she can dream about being in a house by the sea with someone who loves her, with someone she is allowed to love once the danger has passed, a story with a happy ending.
The therapy sessions are gut wrenching, but the reward is worth it. She is getting better, trying to be whole emotionally and repair the hole in her heart that had been there long before the sniper tried to send her to her mother. She reminds herself that nothing could happen until the dragon is slain, or she would lure him into the cross-hairs.
Instead she thinks about Espo's cryptic text: My ghost is ready to kick your ghost's ass! That would make a hell of lot more sense coming from Ryan (or Castle, but she is not going to think about him. The universe might realize Kate is pining and conspire to make him appear.) So she debates the fabric choice for her next quilt piece and can't quite decide if a skull on black background or ghost surrounded by midnight blue works best. And damn, when she looks up she actually conjured the real thing to appear, or an actual black t-shirt with a Heat Wave logo.
Shit, he's here!
No, it's not him and she deflates at the sadness that he hasn't chased her down and found a way to cheer her up.
An African American man is smiling at her (okay, he is a friend not foe) and he looks familiar. Damn the medications for slowing down her thinking.
"Hi Kate. I'm Fleming from Black Pawn Publishing and I have a very special delivery for you." He bores in on her eyes and gives and infinitesimal nod. "Let me wheel you someplace where we won't disturb everyone." He flashes her a reassuring smile and quickly evaluates the room. No tactical problems, but Beckett's wheelchair is a huge unexpected development. Thank god for recon. Espo wanted to snatch Beckett immediately, but Castle's plan made a lot more sense. The delivery man continues to play his role. He's had a lot of experience pretending to be something he's not, so he slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and starts moving her.
Beckett goes from startled to confused. His name was Ike. Well, it still is. Why is he calling himself Fleming? Like Ian Fleming? She tries to shake the cobwebs out of her brain. Ike Thornton. Esposito's old partner - the one that was dead and they helped get back his life. Okay - Espo's ghost. Why is he here, and why in the hell is he acting like a Black Pawn employee?
Thornton is already steering her wheelchair away from the room and out the nearest door. He's chattering about how nice is was to get the assignment to deliver this to her because it's a pretty day and an awesome excuse to get out of the city. He finally stops moving and ends the inane chatter at a picturesque spot near a koi pond. They've got a little space around them although others are close enough to overhear what he's saying. No one seems unduly focused on them, but the plan assumes she is being watched. With another scan of the area he finally faces Beckett.
This is critical and he owes her so damn much. The by-the-book detective covered for her team while they had his back. He is desperate to repay the debt. Please let her read between the lines. "As I said I'm from Black Pawn Publishing. I've got an advanced copy of a Nikki Heat book for you but there are some conditions you must agree to." He get the clipboard out of the messenger bag and is about to hand it to her when she stops him with a question.
"Why didn't Castle bring it to me?"
Her voice is quiet. Damn that look of hurt and longing was the same on his wife's face every time he had to leave her behind and go underground until he could clear his name. "Paula - the publicist - said Mr. Castle was respecting your request for personal space."
She snorted, "Since when..." She shakes her head and lets it go with a sigh, "Never mind."
Ike, a.k.a. Fleming the supposed Black Pawn employee, keeps the top sheet and then hands the clipboard to Beckett. "Please pay special attention to this part." He points to a large paragraph then starts reading his script out loud for anyone who is eavesdropping. "The following manuscript is proprietary property not yet released to the public." He glances at Beckett just in time to see her eyes wide betraying that she is reading the secret message.
Beckett's version has phrases interspersed like "Assume you are being watched" and "you are in immediate and grave danger."
The man drones on "You must keep the unpublished work from being seen by anyone else. No spoilers can be posted via social media or other platforms. No portion may be reproduced or uploaded..."
Beckett nods at the clause "a burner phone is hidden inside the book so don't open the cover around other people. Details about the immanent danger and the extraction plan are also inside. Pretend to sign your name with any details we need to know. Check the box Yes- you want the plan to proceed to get you out of here or No, you are going to stay here but understand help is a phone call away."
Detective Kate Beckett has a million questions swirling through her head, with the loudest one asking how Castle found out about this. Regardless, the text Espo sent now makes sense because his once dead partner is now trying to help her stay alive. She checks the "yes" box to proceed with the plan and scribbles on the signature line "stuck in a wheelchair" because making a run for it -literally- is out of the question. They part ways and she eases the messenger bag over her shoulder so it nestles on the side away from her incision. It's finally healing after the wound got infected and a drainage tube had to be put in. Now she has a lot to do and the proverbial snail could move faster than she does thanks to her broken ankle. She wants to go hide in her favorite corner of the library and open the book and find out what in the hell is going on, but doesn't want to attract any more attention. She wheels back to the fiber arts center and starts gathering her fabric blocks and material, "I guess I'm a little behind today. Can I take everything with me and work on it during my free time?"
Iwoona beams at her, "Don't ya think you might be too distracted reading?" She winks at Kate. "Of course you can take it with you. Once you paid the extra fee, this became yours. I'm glad you are motivated to finish it."
Kate nods gratefully and gathers up all the fabric and pieced blocks. She doesn't own a sewing machine, but even if she just takes the parts that are done and makes pillows out of them it will be positive reminder of her time hanging out with all the women in here. She hates to admit it, but this place, the rehab, the therapy sessions, the full schedule, it's all been good for her. Lanie was right and she will have to tell her.
She reads the brief on what prompted this. She appreciates what Demming has done, and what everyone is doing to keep her safe. The extraction plan is detailed and it helps to know what's going to happen so she will trust the strangers that are involved. The only concern that settled in her gut after extracting the burner phone was finding Harvey Zeetoe and John Bennet as the only contacts. Wouldn't Castle be able to talk more freely? Regardless it will make the confession to Javi easier that she already knew the dragon was coming after her. They talk briefly and promise to have a longer discussion once she gets to the safe house because neither of them currently have time. He gives her the important updates on the exit plan.
Meanwhile she texts the name of the medications she is taking. (The nurses dispense them so she doesn't know how they'll manage to get her more prescriptions without leaving a trail, but of course, Castle probably knows a guy.) She can only take what won't look suspicious, so she stuffs what she can in the backpack on her wheelchair and in the messenger bag. Everything else gets left behind.
A mere two hours have passed and she pretends to read. The "advanced copy of a Nikki Heat book" is really the galley copy of Naked Heat with a new cover on it. The fan girl hidden deep inside Beckett is relieved because the center of the book was cut out for phone and it would have cruel and unusual punishment for Castle to send her the new book with most of the story missing! She'll have to tease him about that as soon as they connect. She has Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None on her lap. She's under a gazebo near the parking lot and thankfully she knows the story well enough to turn the pages while really watching for a Mercy General van which is ten minutes early. Ike backs the van in and stays with the rig while a burly man with crew cut dressed in scrubs approaches her. "Ms. Beckett, are you ready to go to your appointment with Dr. Drake?" It is the code phrase for asking if she wants to proceed.
"Yes, I'm hoping he can work some magic and make all the pain go away." Her reply has to include the key words of 'magic and yes' to go, or 'no and local doctor' to stay.
A second guy in matching blue scrubs pushes an ultra light wheelchair -the kind that doesn't have arm rests - and joins them. "What help do you need to transfer to this chair?"
"I don't need help. I can stand and even take a few steps. The doctors don't want me walking because the cast on my ankle makes my gait unsteady and I can't use crutches without straining the incision in my side. She shrugs, "I'm a bit of a mess."
"No worries, mate," the beefcake assures her. "We just don't want the rehab place to think we absconded with their wheelchair. Lots of places put trackers on their medical equipment because it is so expensive and ripe for theft." The shorter medic takes her backpack and shoulder bag and hangs back just enough to watch their six as they head to the van. Ike has the wheelchair ramp down and they quickly get her loaded and on their way. No one has paid any attention to them or the other three patients getting discharged and leaving Second Chance Safe Haven convalescent campus.
The burly guy gets behind the wheel to drive them away and the smaller guy slides in to ride shotgun. Ike takes a seat beside her and he's all business. "We need to know if you agree to go to the safe house or if you want to go a place of your choosing where there will be only perimeter security."
"Oh, is going to the Hampton house with Castle an option?"
Ike falters, "I haven't talked with Mr. Castle. Espo said you'd want to be in control of where you go."
Beckett chides herself silently. "Um, you mentioned a safe house, so that sound good."
He use to distract his wife with tasks so maybe it'll work on Beckett. "Let's go through your stuff." He gets out an RF signal indicator to check for electronic surveillance. The first thing she hands over is the classic Agatha Christie novel she was pretending to read while waiting for this drama to play out.
A chirp immediately sounds and Beckett is visibly surprised. "What the hell! I've had this since I was in the hospital!"
"It's okay. We expected something like this and we've got lots of contingency plans." He looks in the eye to keep her from getting rattled. "We can use it as a red herring and put it somewhere else so the bad guys don't know that we're on to them."
It's not paranoia; they're coming after her. "Wherever that book goes it will put someone in danger. I can't do that. Oh hell, I shouldn't be involving anyone in this including you guys. Shit. I should go it alone - just pick some random spot and hide." She's chewing on her bottom lip and her eyes are darting around and she's an inch from losing it.
Ike studies her and then reaches in folder and picks out a sealed envelop labeled RED HERRING. "Details in here."
Her eyes dart back to him. He is so damn calm. And confident. "You can't just tell me what you plan to do with a damn book?"
"Operational security - we can't betray what we don't know. Beckett, everything has been really well thought out. You've got a hell of a team on your side."
She points to the uniforms complete with name tags. "I'm guessing Martha's connections with costumes and props are playing a part. She gets a nod and returns her attention to the plain white envelop. It's Castle's writing. She looks back up with a hint of a smile. "Just how many sealed envelops do you have in case I start to panic?"
Thornton's eyes go wide. He has no idea how to respond. He got five different envelops each for a different situation. "Um..."
She laughs, freeing pent up stress. Castle is so damn good with the details. Castle is so damn good at knowing what she needs. Castle is so damn good... "When will we meet up with Castle?"
"Um, since he is a best selling author and has an obvious connection to you, he really can't come anywhere near you. It could blow your disappearing act."
She scolds herself. Of course Castle can't come anywhere near the lethal danger around her. She's a minefield.
Detective Thornton can see her deflate. Espo was right. These two have it bad for each other. He goes back to the plan of distracting her. " Let's keep going through stuff. Everything that checks out as clear goes in here." He pops the lid off a large aluminum trash can.
"I can't - don't ask me to... I couldn't bring much but what I did smuggle out is important to me. I can't just toss it out." To them it may be scraps of fabric and a journal and the plush purple elephant from her dad, but they are talismans that got her through some dark nights.
"The can is lined to block any other tracking devices that may be a different kind that this handheld unit won't pick up. No one is taking any unnecessary risks. Your people will do a different scan of each item at the safe house and make sure they're clear and return them to you."
I have 'people?' she wonders to herself. Instead of Alice going through the looking glass she's landed in the middle of a Storm novel.
A voice from the front seat cuts in, "Trailing car now going ahead."
What? Damn she has lost her cop intuition. She whips her head to check the dark blue Ford zipping by. "We're being followed?"
"Our guys. Sorry. Should have explained more. A second vehicle fell in behind us as soon as we cleared the facility. Once they confirmed we were not being followed, the plan calls for them to run ahead as a scout vehicle. We will be transferring you to a different vehicle in about ten minutes. The three of us are returning this vehicle and going back to the city. No one in this vehicle knows where you are going to be."
"Oh, good plan. Of course." She'd make lousy detective these days. She's jittery and feeling lost and she needs the solid bulk of her partner but he's no where in sight and...
Ike tries to soothe her, "Hey, we've got your back. I know going to an unknown location and trusting your safety to strangers is hard. Take it from somebody who had no choice but to go it alone - this is better. You'll be ok. Espo interviewed the people at the safe house." The former partner pauses and then snickers, "The 'interview' concluded at a firing range and Javi got humbled! He said these people can't be bought and their skills are top notch. There are also electronic counter measures in place at the safe house."
"Yeah, I'm thankful for everything but it's tough knowing there is a target on my back. I want to crawl in a hole and push everyone away but at the same time I want the people I trust with me. There's more going on and my actions, no matter how well intended, end up hurting those around me. Damn it. I just need to... " she trails off, her eyes darting around trying to focus.
"Beckett, it'll work out. Keep being smart about this."
She fixates on a random detail to distract herself, "I need to get some clothes because I had to leave all my stuff behind unless Castle bought me a new wardrobe, too?"
"I understand a person named Lanie went to your place last night and packed. Clothes and other necessities are at the house. One of the gals there is a physical therapist. She's going to help with the medical stuff. Oh, the guys in the chase car swung by and got your prescriptions. You should be all set."
Beckett tries to focus. Ike is still waiting on her to secure the stuff she brought with her from rehab. She hands over the messenger bag but digs into the backpack. She pauses and sizes up Ike. "I need you to do something for me. Actually two things."
"Anything. I owe you. Name it."
"First, give this to Castle" She holds out a sealed envelop with a lighthouse logo. 'Hey Castle' is scrawled on the front.
Shit. He promises her anything then has to baulk. "We assume that your father, Castle, Esposito and Ryan are being watched or monitored. I don't have a good reason to meet up with a multi-million dollar best-selling author. Can I give it to Javi?"
She grimaces and shakes her head no. "Give it to Lanie -the medical examiner Dr. Parish - obviously you can find a reason to interact with her? Tell her I haven't spoken to Rick since I was in the hospital, and he needs to know what's going on with me."
"I can do that." He looks her in the eye, knows all about danger that hides in high places, and they both know the odds are long. The thing that helped him through was keeping an eye on the goal - looking past all the shit to that magical day when the million small actions finally pay off. "Beckett, when this is over, you and me need to sit down and swap stories. Have a drink."
She smiles and it's genuine. For the first time since she's been shot, she feels like that glimmer of hope has a chance to grow. There are good people on her side. She needs to remember the strides she made in therapy and keep being smart. "I'll hold you to that. We won't invite Javi. He'll be pissed so that'll be extra fun." Everything is sorted into to the metal can and a jamming device gets put on top. The lid firmly comes down. This may be 'so much bigger' than she is, but it may not be bigger than all of them combined.
She reaches out for Ike's phone. "May I?" He unlocks it and hands it over. "The second thing is there is another player already involved. Here's his number. You may need to be the intermediary between him and my team."
"Who is this guy and how is he involved?"
"It's too much to explain now, but tell him I said 'my guys understand cop humor.' That will tell him you've talked to me. Have Espo give him whatever my burner number is. Tell all of them I need everybody to play nice." She hands the phone back.
Detective Ike Thornton looks at the new contact and groans, "A fed? We have to be nice to a G-man? Come on, Beckett..." he pretends to grumble and whine. "Damn FBI. He even sounds like a pain in the ass. Agent Will Sorenson..."
A/N: Yeah, I did it. I brought in another old flame of Beckett's. Don't hate me! I promise to tie up all these little threads into a big picture that has a valid place in the story.